Page 20 of Crazy In Love
“Trustyou? Woman, you already don’t like me! You’d be happy if I missed out on this.”
Her eyes shutter, from faux comfort to the real, angry person she is beneath. “I do not intend to miss it, Christian. Not the end, when Tommy comes out and tells us everything is okay. Which means for as long as I’m right here in front of you, you haven’t missed anything. Now breathe.” She inhales again and nods when my lungs do the same.
Traitorous fuckers.
“Feels better already, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t…” Shit. She’s not wrong. “You?—”
“You’re lucky she didn’t tell you to dance,” Franky drawls. “She’s real annoying when she thinks dancing will fix a bad mood.”
Pleased, she drops her hands and strides away, the absence of her touch as startling as if she’d smacked me on the side of the head with a two-by-four. Instead, she claps her hands and beams for Franky. “Do we have to go to the bakery to get the stuff, or does the bakery deliver to us?”
“Theycome to us.” He studies his computer screen, the reflection of spreadsheets bouncing off the lenses of his glasses. Hell, it’s almost like his world wasn’t just fucking turned on its head, right here in the middle of Alana’s bookstore. “They usually come at nine, right after Mom takes me to school and opens up. But since it’s Saturday, they’ll come at about ten-thirty.”
“Makes sense. Not many folks are heading to the bookstore as soon as they wake on the weekend.”
She has a way of dancing while she walks. It’s not an overt sashay and sway, but a more discreet roll of her hips. Which, unfortunately for me, is a million times more pronounced now that she’s wearing denim shorts and those high-top sneakers she seems to favor.
“Can you teach me how to work the coffee machine?” She wanders around Franky’s desk and kisses the back of his head. “Aunty Fox needs a hit of caffeine before she turns herself inside out. You know how dangerous no-coffee can be, right?”
He scoffs in agreement.
“So if you could peel yourself away from all those numbers, I’d be hella grateful.”
“Hella is not a real word.” But he slides off the stool and walks her to the machine, tapping buttons and catering to her the way he does his mother. He likes caring for them, and I think both women know it. So they give him tasks and save him from his racing brain.
It’s me. My brain is racing.
“I’ll go get the pastries.” I stalk toward the front door, hunching my shoulders and digging my hands into my pockets. And though I draw both sets of eyes, curious stares following my progress across the store, I stride through the doorway and onto the sidewalk outside without a single added word.
Fresh air hits me like a wall, pushing my hair back and attacking my lungs. And though itshoulderase that suffocating squeeze crushing me from the inside out, I can’t quite find a way to get my brain to talk to my lungs. So I press my fingers to the blazing point in the center of my chest instead, right where Fox touched only a moment ago.
But I don’t have that same magic touch she has.
It doesn’t work when I do it.
I can’t find the calm.
“Shoulda told her not to fuckin’ touch me.” Frustrated, I lower my hand and stomp toward the bakery. “Should’ve smacked her away and told her to get jacked.”
Yeah, right, dickhead. You wouldn’t dare.
ROUND SEVEN
FOX
“How is she doing?” Barbara—that’s her name, according to the discreet note Franky slides under my nose—hands me just enough money to pay for her pastry. No tip. No payment for the book she’s been reading between the stacks. Not even a kind smile. Just a sneer and enough derision in her stare to make my hands twitch. “I heard Alana and Tommy are at the hospital.”
“She’s doing as well as we can expect.”Be nice, Fox. Be polite.I ring up her purchase and make a note for Alana to deal with when she gets back.
Barbara’s a cheap ass wench who steals entertainment, but thinks it’s not stealing, because she hasn’t left the store yet.
“Tommy sent a text a little while ago saying everything is fine.”
“And how about you, Franklin?” The old bitty shuffles along, dragging her purse across the desk and hunching until they’re on the same level. “How are you feeling about all this? A new sister will take all of your mom’s attention, don’t you think?”
Unimpressed, he stares right into her eyes, flat lips, expressionless face, and like the pro he is, unflinchingly cold until she gives up, snatches up her purse, and turns away.
