Page 20 of Hopelessly Teavoted
Vickie bounced over to the counter—a feat in the heels she was wearing—and spoke to Hazel, who looked over at him, grinned, and nodded.
Within a minute, Vickie was bustling about, delivering the last pastries and placing a little cup with a black cat and amatching saucer on his table. She set the plate of donuts next to the cup, which he recognized well.
It had been his mother’s favorite, and he watched Vickie’s short red fingernails against it as she put it on the tabletop.
“I thought you might like to use this one instead.” She smiled at him, and he nodded, tracing the familiar design.
“Let me know if you need anything else, Az.” Vickie’s voice was like a cloud, a dream, and he almost groaned, knowing that refrain would take days to leave him now.
He ached for her desperately. Again.
She had no idea how much else he needed.
CHAPTER 6Victoria
Business was picking up.
She tried to reassure herself that it was good news, both to keep the store afloat and to keep her distracted from thinking about how badly she missed the idea of maybe one day working it out with Azrael. How much she had been lying to herself for years now, shoving away the memories of dancing in his bedroom to her favorite music as a kid, the occasionally haunted armchair rocking back and forth along with her.
How she had pictured, even then, what it would be like, to live in Hart Manor with him. Embraced by his family and his house, where she felt much more alive and welcome than next door in her parents’ cold, modern monstrosity.
How she had loved Benedict and Persephone, and how they had been so much warmer than her own parents, despite what the town often said about their macabre and morbid ways. There was love, real love, in Hart Manor, in the very beams of the house, which creaked and yawned and lived with the family that loved there.
It had always been her and Azrael, and Vickie had told herself for too long that they were just friends. And now, when he was back in front of her, she remembered how hard it was to be just friends with him. She saw his tentative smile and curly hair, and felt the same way she felt walking into HopelesslyTeavoted. Like she was home. Seeing Azrael felt like really, truly coming home.
“He likes you, you know,” Hazel whispered conspiratorially, running a finger over her pink hair.
Vickie rolled her eyes. She loved Hazel, but her teenage insight was failing her in this moment. Azrael sat there, shifting his coffee cup from hand to hand. The way Vickie clutched the tray of donuts she was putting away had nothing to do with her feelings for Azrael. Not a thing.
“He—no, he’s my old neighbor. We had a weird moment once in college, but trust me, it ended badly enough to avoid. You’ll get it when you’re older. Some people seem like a great idea on paper but just never really click in reality.”
Hazel smirked. “I knew it. You totally love him. Oh my god, and look at him just sitting there for this long. Hetotallyloves you too.”
“Hazel. He willhearyou.”
Vickie really didn’t know why the idea of Hazel thinking Az liked her bothered her so much. Maybe because she knew how far it was from the truth. It had been so many years since he had walked out of her dorm after the rain, his wet shoes and clothes pooling tears of regret on the linoleum floor behind him. The remaining dampness had soaked into the fancy striped throw rug her parents had bought for the room after scoffing at what they considered to be slumming it in the dormitories.
Freedom was what she had called it. Freedom to make her own choices, like the disastrous one she made with Azrael her sophomore year.
It had been a disappointment then, but she was old enough now to know that this was not unusual for matters of the heart. People either disappointed you or they didn’t, and she wasn’t going to let Azrael Hart’s rejection six years ago drag her down. She’d had plenty of great sex and even a sort of love with Robbie in between.Clingy, both he and Natalie had called her. But neither of those relationships defined her.
If Robbie breaking up with her hadn’t been devastating, Azrael’s behavior after one brief lapse in judgment shouldn’t be either after all this time.
Vickie returned to the pastries and checked her watch. People were starting to leave, the little set of skull bells jingling pleasantly with each departure. She smiled, thinking of Persephone Hart and how people so often misjudged her because she looked the part of a gothic vampire in a house guarded by wicked iron spikes. It had always struck her as ironic that the tidy white colonial mansion with its pristine blue shutters was inhabited by her awful, calculating parents, and the haunted, perpetually foggy grounds of Hart Manor hosted so much earnest affection.
In the corner, even Hank was starting to finish his crossword and his muffin.
From across the room, Vickie saw that asshole regular who always gave Hazel grief. He was eyeing Hank. Chet something. He was a teacher at Hallowcross High, too, and Hazel had told her he was famous for making a student and her parent cry at a back-to-school night once. Vickie glared at him, daring him to try anything in her shop. He made eye contact and raised his eyes suggestively, of all things.
With a flourish, Vickie walked over to the Hex Bigotry, Witches sign that hung over the wall display of stickers with the same slogan, and adjusted it, giving him a pointed look. He rolled his eyes and returned to his coffee and pretentious reading selection. Hank, walking over, presumably to use the restroom, but also quite possibly simply to gossip, stopped at the counter.
“He’s been reading that same page ofMoby Dickfor thirty minutes, and I saw him open it to a random place when he got here.” Hank smiled at her knowingly, leaning in.
“I guess the whale isn’t the only dick in that book,” he said, chuckling with glee, and made his way to the bathroom.
Vickie was feeling cross this morning, but in her defense, she had seen Chet do the same thing withOliver Twistthe lasttime he was in here. It seemed that there was no limit to the dickish behavior of this particular customer.
Something nagged at the corner of her mind as she watched him, the cruel set of his mouth souring a face that might otherwise be nice to look at.
