Page 85 of An Unexpected Kind of Love

Fuck.

And thank God it’s lunchtime and that Gemma’s gone out, so nobody sees me crumple alone in my shuttered shop. I slip the note into my pocket. Something I should have the good sense to throw away.

However, because I’m daft and a sentimental fool committed to self-torture, I keep not only the note but also the book of poetry safe up in my flat.

The sun is shining but it doesn’t reach me in August, the first stirrings of autumn in the air.

Later that afternoon, calmer and restored after some tea, my pocket buzzes. Checking my phone, there’s a text from Lily.

Don’t forget the private view tonight. Please come. You can bring a plus-one if you want. Or not. I’ll leave a couple of tickets at the box office under your name. Lxx

I would much rather run full tilt toward the typical introvert response, which is the opposite direction of a private view for Lily’s exhibition. I’m in no sort of mood for people, especially upbeat people. If the private view was guaranteed to be full of sullen, moody goths, I might be in for a round of emo and The Cure. If only they had cocktails tailored to that niche, something over the top like the Velvet Tear.

This is why I’m destined to be single forever from this point on.

No more men. No more heartache. No more putting myself on the line like that, opening myself up to more raw vulnerability, because it doesn’t pay off. I’m not cut out for this.

Gemma gives me side-eye. “Aubs? You’ve been staring at the Romance section for five minutes.”

I side-eye her right back. She’s right—I have been rooted in place, staring dejectedly at the wall of books I’m arranging. Foolishly I started another romance novel last night. This time, I found one with a man falling for another man, the poor arsehole. And yet I stayed up far too late reading.

“Not you too. That’s Mr. Barnes. Remember?”

“Chill.” Gemma shakes her head, her dark ponytail swinging. “I mean, you should be happy, right? The shop’s been fixed up. It’s gonna be ready to reopen in, like, a day or two.” She gazes at me. “And…I heard you were in the papers kissing Blake Sinclair.”

My face warms at the mention of his name. “Never mind Blake Sinclair.”

“That’s juicy, Aubs. Well done.” She looks pleased. “Why’re you upset?”

“Because tabloids. Because invasion of privacy?” I say immediately, getting worked up. Never mind the ache of missing Blake terribly.

She considers me. “I guess now that the filming’s done you won’t see him, huh.”

I scowl. “Let’s focus on the shop.”

There’s also still the not so trifling matter of the whopping council tax bill. It’ll be a bit better with the payout from filming. That’s for future Aubrey, not today’s Aubrey, who has an explosion of book boxes everywhere to deal with. Gemma’s hip-deep in sci-fi and fantasy.

“Reopening’s good at least?” she tries.

I chew my lip. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Gemma smiles at me. “So, good news. Cheer up.”

If only it was so easy to cheer up on command. Everything just seems duller. I stare down at my cuff watch, absently rubbing at it, and the hidden heart tattooed inside my wrist. At least I was clever about that: hearts were meant to be hidden.

“Any chance you want to go to a private view tonight?” I ask her. “I’m really not up for it.”

“Why, Aubrey, I didn’t think you felt that way about me,” she laughs, clutching at her heart in a faux swoon, an obvious effort to try to make me laugh. “I might need to tell my girlfriend you’re making a play for me.”

“What happened to the boyfriend? I’m not going to use the ticket, so you can take a plus one.”

“Oh, I still have him too, but he’s not my primary right now,” Gemma assures me easily, shelving a tome on dragons with a satisfyingthumpon the shelf. “Don’t worry. I’m hardly exclusive. Polyamory is where it’s at.”

My eyebrows climb. Imagine the heartache involved there for someone like me. “I think you’re made of stronger stuff than me. Power to you.”

“You should try it. You might even like it.”

My lips twitch. “Well. Do you and your partner or partners happen to want to go to a private view?”

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