Only You

by Marie Landry

  I glance at my watch; it’s half past three here, which means it’s eight thirty in Scotland. “Bridget told me to take off early. Who am I to say no to an order from the boss?”

  His low chuckle warms me from head to toe, and a few key places in between. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

  “Yours too.” I lean against the brick facade of the consignment shop. “I have to say, you look pretty spectacular in that kilt. I think you should only wear that from now on.”

  “Think it may be a wee bit chilly this time of year.” His accent seems a bit thicker than it did when he was living here. The last time we spoke on the phone, I’d wondered if it was my imagination. “Now, fair is fair. I think you ought to send me a picture of what you’re wearing.”

  “What I’m wearing? Well, I happen to be wearing nothing at all at the moment.” I turn my head just in time to see a middle-aged guy lingering in the doorway of the shop next door, his eyes wide as they sweep over me. Shit. I whirl away, putting my back to him and unsuccessfully trying to stifle a laugh.

  “You okay?” Hugh asks.

  “Fine, other than giving some random guy a mental image I’m sure he could have lived without.” I push off the wall and start walking again. “I’m actually heading to the bookstore. And in case you’re still wondering, I’m wearing normal work clothes with my very unsexy fluffy winter jacket.”

  He chuckles softly. “You could never be ‘unsexy’, Ivy. I should let you go so you can browse for books without distractions.”

  I stop outside Pied Piper Books. “You’re the best kind of distraction. I don’t want to stop talking to you.”

  “I don’t either.” His voice has dropped again and it sends a shiver through me. “I’ve been cursing these blasted time zones. By the time you get home, I’ll be in bed.”

  This has definitely presented a problem over the last few weeks. We had never discussed the possibility of phone sex or even sexting, but between both of us being busy, plus the fact it’s the middle of the night in Scotland by the time I go to bed, it hasn’t come up. In the week and a bit we’d been having sex before Hugh left, we managed to have a lot of sex. It’s just one of the many things I miss about him. That pink vibrator he found our first night together has been getting quite the workout lately.

  “I really should be off anyway,” he says, his voice tinged with regret. “I need to send a couple of emails before the end of business day in your time zone.”

  I groan. “These short conversations are such a tease. And so was that picture of you in the kilt, by the way. You’re playing dirty.”

  “How ’bout I make it up to you this weekend? We’ll Skype and I’ll wear the kilt again. If you’re good, I’ll give you a peek at what’s underneath.”

  Talk about playing dirty. “You mean I’ll find out firsthand the answer to the age-old question of what a true Scotsman wears under his kilt?” He rumbles out a laugh, and I continue. “Fine, I can wait until the weekend. But in the meantime, when I get home tonight I’m going to send you a selfie of my own. Remember that tartan underwear I told you Bridget gave me as a gag gift for Christmas? Turns out I really like them and wear them often. I have a feeling you’d like them too, especially since they happen to be a thong.”

  Now it’s his turn to groan. I picture him sitting on the side of his bed, bare chest rising and falling quickly, maybe his hand snaking under his kilt…oh god, I need to stop or I’m going to be forced to jump into the nearest puddle of melted slush.

  “I’ll look forward to it,” he says in a rough voice. “I miss you, Ivy.”

  “I miss you too.” There’s a loaded pause and then we promise to speak again soon. I take a minute to gather myself before entering Pied Piper’s. It’s quiet inside, except for the soft music that always filters from hidden speakers. A loud thump, followed by what sounds like a cry of pain comes from the back room.

  “Piper?” I call.

  “Just a…sec,” she calls, her voice muffled.

  I’m about to go investigate when the back door swings open and Piper hobbles out. She’s clutching the portable phone that’s like an extra appendage whenever the store is open. “Oh, Ivy, it’s you.” Normally when someone says this, it gives you that gee thanks feeling, but she sounds relieved. “You know Cami, the blond girl who’s been working here for awhile now? Well, she kept calling in sick and when she called in yet again today, I asked her if everything was okay. She said she was going to make a doctor’s appointment to see what was going on, and then I heard some girls giggling in the background. Turns out she’s not sick, just lazy and unprofessional.”

  She’s breathless by the time she gets all this out. She takes in a huge gulp of air before continuing. “I had to fire her. I can’t have people pulling shit like this. This is a small, independently run business, and I need people I can count on. But now I’m one person short and I hate the process of finding new employees. It took me weeks to find her.”

  “Oh no.” My brain is whirring. Loudly. I think back to my conversation earlier with Bridget. ‘What would you do if you left?’ My gaze sweeps the store—bright, colorful, spacious. Then, of course, there are the books. All those glorious books. “Hire me,” I blurt.

  There’s a beat of silence before Piper starts laughing. She sobers quickly when she sees my face. Her amusement morphs into confusion, then disbelief, then something akin to hope. “Wait, what? You already have a job.”

  “Yeah, a job I’m not happy with,” I tell her. “You know it’s always been my dream to own a bookstore, but it’s just that—a dream. I can’t imagine actually doing it. Aside from the fact this city is fairly small and another bookstore would be direct competition, I don’t know the first thing about running a business. This would be ideal. I’d get to work with books without the responsibility of actually running the place.”

  Now I’m the one who has to pause to suck in air because I’m talking so fast. “Think about it. This would be the perfect way for me to get to know your customer base firsthand and plan my marketing strategy accordingly. It’d be like killing two birds with one stone: filling the now-empty position, plus helping me do the job you’ve already hired me to do.”

  Piper looks stunned, but her eyes are bright.

  “You don’t have to decide right now,” I say. “Think about it and call me when you’ve figured it out. I’d need to give notice at work, but if you needed me to do evenings and weekends, I could do that. I got used to ridiculous hours while I was working at the Village. And if you decide to hire someone else, no hard feelings. I’ll still put my all into a marketing plan for you.”

  She bobs her head slowly. “I’ll think about it,” she says at length. Despite telling her to do just that, my heart drops. I guess I can’t blame her for not deciding on the spot. I have no retail experience, after all. “I promise I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

  I leave an hour later with a few new books and a reiterated promise from Piper that she’ll let me know her decision soon. I swing by Luigi’s and get Don to put together a takeout order of the night’s specials for Celia and me. I’ve been coming here at least once a week since Hugh left, either dining in or getting takeout. Don has practically accepted me as a member of the family, and I think even his mother is warming up to me. She often looks at me with sad eyes and mutters something in Italian about Hugh.

  Celia and I eat together in front of the TV—our new ritual when both of us are home—and then I go to my room to snuggle with Fiddlesticks and read. I’m nodding off when my phone buzzes. Hugh’s name pops up and I do some quick math; it’s nearly four in the morning there.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask by way of greeting.

  “Fine, love.” His voice is soft, soothing. “I couldn’t sleep and I hoped you hadn’t gone to bed yet. Thought I’d try my luck.”

  “This feels like my lucky day, getting to talk to you twice.” I settle back in bed, nestling into my pillows. Fiddlesticks climbs into my lap. I won
der if she recognizes Hugh’s voice coming from the phone. “Fiddlesticks says hi.”

  “Give her a pet for me,” he says. “And one for yourself too.”

  I laugh, surprised. “I’ve got that covered, don’t worry.”

  He makes a soft moaning sound. “I was thinking we could pick up our conversation from earlier.” The way his Rs roll makes heat zing right to my center. “You never did send me that picture you promised.”

  “Damn, I forgot.” My please-hire-me pitch to Piper this afternoon threw me for a loop. “I can do it right now.”

  “I’d rather hear your voice. I suppose I should’ve done a video call so we’d have the best of both worlds.”

  “You sound tired.” I have a sudden vision of him setting his alarm clock to wake up this early just so he could talk to me.

  “I am,” he admits. “Been working all hours, in and out of meetings, handling endless stacks of paperwork. Almost fell asleep during a conference this afternoon.”

  “Poor baby,” I coo, and he huffs out a laugh. “I know something that’ll wake you up. Why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing.”

  “I’m not wearing anything, love.”

  I swallow hard. “You sleep naked? Isn’t it cold there?”

  “I have thoughts of you to keep me warm.”

  I cover my mouth to smother a laugh. “Best line ever.”

  He chuckles, and I can picture him shaking his head. “Not a line when it’s the truth. Before I went to bed tonight, I—”

  My phone beeps with an incoming call. Who the hell is calling me this late? I check the display and see Piper’s name. “Shit. I’m so sorry, that’s my other line, and it’s something that might be important.”

  Hugh sighs softly. “It’s all right.”

  The phone beeps again. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry.” I think I was finally about to learn the fine art of phone sex. “Can I call you back?”

  His low laugh in my ear makes me wonder if I should ignore Piper and see where this conversation leads. “I suppose I should try to get back to sleep. We’ll talk again soon, yeah?”

  “Definitely. Good night, Hugh.”

  He says goodnight and I switch over to the other line, but it’s gone dead. I wait a minute to see if Piper will call back and when she doesn’t, I call her.

  “I’m so sorry, Ivy. I wasn’t paying attention to the time and didn’t realize it was so late. Were you sleeping?”

  “Don’t worry about it, I was just on the other line. Is everything okay?”

  “Well…” She inhales sharply and I squeeze my eyes shut. She’s calling to tell me she’s going to hire someone else, and she wants to let me down easy. “I was just wondering if you’d be available to come into the store tomorrow after work so I can show you the ropes.”

  My eyes pop open. “Wait, I’m hired?”

  “You’re hired.”

  “Oh my god, Piper, thank you! Thank you, thank you. I promise I’ll be the best damn employee Pied Piper Books has ever had.”

  Her answering laugh is a mixture of happiness and relief. “I don’t doubt it. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

  I hang up and toss the phone on the bed, then pick up Fiddlesticks and smother her with kisses. She allows this for a minute, then squirms out of my arms and runs to the end of the bed. I hop up and dance around my room, feeling wide awake now as I shake my booty and bust out several moves that should have stayed in the ’90s. Fiddlesticks watches me warily, her eyes slitty. I’m sure she’d make a break for it if my bedroom door were open.

  “Oh!” Remembering my earlier promise to Hugh, I drop my pants and kick them aside. Approaching the bed slowly, hands in the air to show I come in peace, I pluck my phone from near where Fiddlesticks sits. She relaxes a bit, despite continuing to keep a watchful eye on me as I approach the full-length mirror inside my closest door.

  I snap a couple of pictures of me in my underwear. Then, feeling extra naughty—probably from the adrenaline coursing through me—I lift my shirt, fisting the material at my chest so only the curved undersides of my breasts are visible.

  When I’m happy with the shot, I attach it to a text message and type: A little something to tide you over. Will you call me tomorrow if you have a chance? I have big news. Xoxo

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Over the next couple of months, color slowly seeps back into my life.

  Things have gone from dreary to bright. I’ve gone from working and living on autopilot to being challenged every day. Not only that, I’m actually having fun in my job. I get to meet new people daily and talk about books. What could be better? I’m also putting my marketing degree to good use, and have already exceeded Piper’s goals for the first quarter of the year.

  Basically, I’m the embodiment of a Katrina and the Waves song—walking on sunshine. It helps that spring has arrived early, and everything is starting to blossom, turning the city from gray to a vibrant rainbow.

  One March day, Piper and I head to Luigi’s to meet Bridget and Meredith for lunch. I haven’t seen many other people from the Village since Christmas, but as promised, Meredith and I have kept in touch and I now consider her one of my closest friends.

  We congregate outside the restaurant and exchange a flurry of hugs and kisses. Inside, Don seats us at his ‘best table’—anywhere he puts us happens to be the best table—and we place our orders immediately since we all now know the menu by heart.

  “How’s work?” Piper asks Bridget.

  Her cheeks flush with pleasure. “So good. I was just put in charge of one of the biggest clients we’ve ever had. I’m not at liberty to say who, but let’s just say it’s a certain pop star I’ve heard all of you singing along to in the car.”

  Piper and Meredith pelt Bridget with guesses, but she just laughs and shakes her head. Our eyes meet and her smile grows. She’s glowing these days; just before my final two weeks were up at Quest, Bridget gathered our team for a meeting and laid everything out. She explained how she wasn’t enjoying her job, and admitted the pressure was getting to her. She reminded everyone that long before being their boss, she was their coworker and friend, and she wanted to return to that position with their blessing. Long story short, everyone encouraged her to do what works for her and said they would support her in any decision she made.

  If I miss one thing about Quest, it’s that sense of support and camaraderie. I worked there for six years, and while many people came and went, the core base of employees remained the same. Luckily, I have a small but amazing group of coworkers at Pied Piper Books, and Piper and I have become good friends.

  Don delivers our lunches. As I dig in, I notice Meredith eyeing me. She’s always basically a ray of sunshine in human form, yet today she seems extra bright. She hasn’t stopped smiling and she keeps shooting furtive glances at Piper.

  “Okay, what’s up?” I finally ask after I catch her smiling into her plate of spaghetti Bolognese.

  Her head snaps up. “What? Nothing! Just happy to be here with you guys.”

  “Mmhmm.” I look to Piper for backup, but all I get is a shrug.

  “How are things with Hugh?” Meredith asks.

  I blink. Nice avoidance technique, Mer. “Things are good, I guess.” My parmesan and asparagus risotto is suddenly fascinating.

  “You guess?”

  I take a heaping bite to give myself a moment to think. I hadn’t planned on bringing this up. Normally Bridget would be the one I’d discuss these things with, but she’s been riding the high of her new engagement to David. I’ve been focusing on my happiness for her and all the duties being maid of honor will entail. Or that’s been my excuse, anyway.

  “This whole long distance thing sucks,” I say. “We’ve been good at keeping things casual, but lately it’s been a little too casual. He’s busy doing whatever it is he’s doing in Scotland, and our conversations keep getting shorter and fewer and farther between.”

  I stab at a piece of asparagus, avo
iding the three pairs of eyes I feel on me. “We promised we’d be honest with each other. I trust he hasn’t found someone else or anything like that. But the uncertainty is getting to me. Not having a plan and attempting to go with the flow is one thing, but…I’m not sure I can keep this going much longer.”

  I lift my head to see Meredith’s eyes have gone wide. “Y-you can’t give up now! It’s almost—”

  Piper sets her glass of water down hard on the table. “Oops,” she says, all feigned innocence. “Butter fingers.”

  “Hey, do you think we could train Fiddlesticks to be the ring bearer at my wedding?” Bridget asks suddenly. “Like, strap a little pillow to her back and put the rings on it and have her walk up the aisle with you?”

  Used to Bridget’s randomness, especially since she started planning her wedding, I don’t even blink at the unexpected question. “I think there’s a good possibility she’d rip the pillow off and eat the rings, then run away.” I glance around the table at my friends. Each of them has this weird shifty-eyed thing going on, not quite looking directly at me, but not meeting each other’s eyes either. “Okay, what the hell is going on?” My voice is more defensive than intended, but it feels like I’m being kept out of a secret everyone else knows.

  “Nothing, sweetie, nothing.” Bridget reaches across the table and lays her hand over mine. “We were all just talking about you and Hugh the other day, and we really hope things work out for you. That’s all. It’s only been three months. I know that seems like forever, but don’t give up hope yet. Things could change in an instant.”

  It feels like there’s more to it than that. Bridget’s gaze stays unwavering on mine, her thumb caressing the back of my hand. I trust my best friend; if she says that’s all, then I have to believe her. For now.

  *****

  When we get back to work, I tell Piper I’m going to make the rounds—check to ensure books are shelved properly, see if anyone needs help, take stock of anything that needs to be reordered, etc. She nods distractedly; she’s been wearing a concerned expression since our conversation about Hugh at lunch, which doesn’t help my theory that my friends know something they’re not telling me.