Page 39 of Haunted Hearts
I don’t know who this guy thinks he is, showing up every place Lydia goes and yanking her chain, all while spending the other days of the week with another woman he flaunts on social media. This guy is messed up—and he’s sorely mistaken.
Lydia Chandler isnota side piece. Lydia Chandler is the main fucking deal. And if this guy’s too stupid to realize that, I’m more than happy to spell it out for him.
“I’ve got a recommendation,” I say. I move to the other side of the table and start digging through the titles Lydia said were children’s books. I draw one out, present it totally straight-faced to Dylan. “Here. This one.Magic. Mummies. To go back in time, two friends need look no further than their backyard.Trust me, this one’s a gem.”
Dylan only looks at the book, clearly doubtful but trying to play it cool. “I don’t know if that sounds like my kind of thing…”
I unwrap the parcel, surprised but glad when Lydia says nothing. I glance at the cover, trying to keep my lips fromtwitching, and hold it up to Dylan with a huge, opened-mouth grin of faux amazement.
“Oh, my god. Look at that—Magic Treehouse! Mummies in the goddamn morning. I know it’ll take you a while to get through, but you’re in for a treat.”
Beside me, Lydia stifles a snort. Dylan’s lip curls and he huffs out a breath. “Wow, real mature, man.”
I nod solemnly. “I know. It is. I didn’t read Magic Treehouse until I was nine, but I think you can handle it. I have faith in you.”
“Dude. What’s your problem?” Dylan’s neck is red. I can tell it’s taking everything he has not to snarl at me, and I absolutely love it.
I keep my face light, my expression stoic, as I plant my palms on the table and lean toward him. “I’ll tell you what my problem is, Dylan. My problem is that Lydiatold you no. And if you think that’s your invitation to just try harder, then I better find you another book—because you’re even more of a child than I thought.”
Dylan snorts, like he can’t believe I just said that to him. Lydia sighs, flicks her hand at the two of us, and goes to join Nancy, who’s still chatting obliviously away with a group of visitors. I keep my eyes trained on Dylan. I’m not kidding around here.
“Whatever, man,” Dylan says, scowling. “You’ve got issues.”
“Sure do. And you’re one of them. Now get walking.”
When he shoves his hands in his pockets and finally turns to go, stalking across the street without a single look behind him, I chance a glance at Lydia. She’s still talking with Nancy, sifting through the books, but she catches my look and gives me a roll of her dark eyes.
I’m really hoping I didn’t overstep and piss Lydia off—that she’s not going to accuse me of trying to play the hero again. ButI was sick of watching that dickbag slink around, trying to get back what he gave up.
Because… god. Lydia can do so much better.
twenty-one
WILL
The market picks up from there, and there’s almost always a cluster of visitors around our table. Lydia’s blind date books are a big hit, and we get a lot of folks asking questions about the renovation plans. Whenever someone picks up a brochure, Lydia’s careful to busy herself with the books, not wanting to appear too interested in any of the questions they ask me.
And, for my part, I’m careful not to say anything too concrete about timelines. I’m still trying to figure out the best time and way to tell Lydia that the board approved my finalized blueprints, and that time is most definitelynotin front of a bunch of people at the Hawthorne Bay fall market. I’m going to have to tell her soon, though. I’m starting to feel downright dishonest.
As the sun sets and the chill of the evening starts to creep in, the groups of people milling around thin out. We’ve sold most of the books Lydia wrapped, and although they haven’t counted the donations yet, quite a few people have been giving more than the suggested five dollars. That’s a good sign.
Nancy glances at her watch, then nudges Lydia. “Hey. I told you we’d go ’til seven. If you want to head out, I can take it from here. There’s not much to pack up.”
“Really?” Lydia looks dubious.
Nancy waves a hand. “Yes, yes, yes. Plenty of people around to help me load up the table and chairs. Books will be a cinch.”
“Okay…”
“You too, Will,” Nancy says. She flicks her hand at me, beaming. “Enjoy the evening.”
Lydia gives Nancy’s arm a little squeeze, then grabs her purse and gives us a wave. Almost before I even realize it, she’s taking off down the sidewalk, and I have to mutter a quick goodbye to Nancy so I can catch up.
As I fall into step beside her, Lydia turns to glance at me. I’m still worried she’s pissed at me about Dylan, but right now she just looks resigned. “What?”
“I need to talk to you about something. Can I walk with you?”
Lydia sniffs. “Looks like you already are.”
