by Harper Bliss
Rita turned up the radio a little louder and they worked without speaking, side-by-side. Rita cast her glance toward Kristin once in a while to see how she was getting on with the carrots—and apparently did not find any fault with how Kristin was cleaning and chopping them.
Annie was very aware of Kristin’s presence in the small kitchen. Three other volunteers were milling about and Annie’s ears perked up every time someone spoke, wanting to know if it was Kristin being addressed.
“Were you a rabbit in a former life?” Andrew asked. “You’re a beast with those carrots. I hope you come back next week.”
“Maybe I will,” Kristin said.
Annie looked over toward Kristin because she had to see if she meant what she’d just said. Their gazes crossed and Kristin smiled. Annie smiled back. When she turned back around, Rita was looking at her disapprovingly.
“What is it now?” Annie asked.
“Step outside with me for a minute.” Rita said.
“I’m about to put my chicken in the pan.” Annie didn’t much feel like getting scolded by Rita.
“Your chicken can wait a minute.” Rita was already headed toward the door.
“I get that you and Kristin work together and that you see her in the shop, that can’t be helped,” Rita said as soon as Annie stuck her head out of the door. “And while extra volunteers are more than welcome, I think you should ask her to help out on other days than us. Or get Andrew to ask her if you don’t want to do it yourself. Because this is ridiculous.”
“I can’t believe this.” Annie brought her hands to her sides. “You were the one who said not to beat myself up over it.”
“Indeed, I did. And I meant every word I said. But seeing her more is not going to help you get over it, Annie. Getting chummy in the kitchen. Inviting her for a drink after. That’s disrespectful to your marriage.”
“We’re friends,” Annie said. “That’s not a process I want to stop.”
“You can be friends all you want, later, once you get this out of your system. I’m only saying this so you don’t make it harder than it already is.”
“You’re blowing hot and cold over this.”
“Yes, well, that was before I witnessed how you behave around her. If you’re like that in the shop and Jane is there, she will surely notice.”
First Caitlin and now Rita. Was Annie really acting like such a love-sick puppy around Kristin? And if she was, why hadn’t Jane noticed? Or Sheryl? Or Kristin herself? Or had they?
“Fine.” Annie didn’t have anything to say in her defense. And she really needed to start frying her chicken. “I’ll handle it.” She stormed back in, letting the silly bout of anger she felt toward Rita wash over her as quickly as possible, so it could peter out. Although Annie might be foolish enough to have a crush on her business partner, she was still wise enough to not be angry with her friend for telling her the truth.
Chapter Sixteen
“What have you been up to tonight?” Annie asked when she got home.
“I watched The Kids Are All Right again,” Jane said. “I love that movie.” She turned down the volume of the evening news that had come on. “How was it?”
“Fine. Kristin was on carrot duty, so Rita was a bit stroppy about that. You’d think they were her carrots and that she had grown them organically in her own garden.”
“Kristin? I didn’t know Kristin was joining you?” Jane sat up, making room for Annie in the couch.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Annie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “She volunteered. I asked her to join us tonight. I think she’ll be back. Andrew was very impressed with her chopping skills. So was I.”
“No, you didn’t tell me.” Something about Annie’s omitting to tell her annoyed Jane but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what. It wasn’t as if Annie told her every little thing she did and with whom.
“Oh, I’m sorry, babe. Must have slipped my mind. We set it up when Caitlin James was in the shop and maybe I was too starstruck to remember.” Annie sank into the couch and leaned into Jane.
“Everything set for that?”
“Yep. Extra books delivered from her publisher today. Mia has worked her marketing voodoo. All set for tomorrow night.”
“Do you need me to do anything?” Jane asked. She had taken her writerly rest seriously and was spending much less time in her office and more in the shop.
“Just be there.” Annie took her wife’s hand and squeezed it. “Caitlin James and Jane Quinn in our shop together. Lesbians and feminists alike will be flocking to its doors.”
Jane would be there. She’d prepare herself a nice big gin and tonic before heading down, but she would do her duty. She even looked forward to it a little.
Caitlin read aloud with the sort of confidence a person can only be born with. Jane refused to berate herself for her lack of it because this sort of bravado was simply not part of her genetic material.
This didn’t mean she didn’t feel a tiny flicker of envy every time the crowd laughed as if on cue. The envy also flickered every time Caitlin paused, looked at her audience with a smile many of the women present would probably end up dreaming of later in bed, and held them all effortlessly in the palm of her hand.
Jane glanced at the crowd, which was almost spilling outside the door—their small book shop not big enough to accommodate the many Caitlin James fans. Jane hoped at least some of them would end up buying books, if not now, then perhaps in the near future.
She looked at Caitlin’s partner Josephine Greenwood, whom she’d only been introduced to tonight. She stood there beaming as she watched Caitlin perform. Because this was a performance. What Caitlin was doing up there—putting on a show—took talent and guts and practice.
The crowd burst out into a raucous round of applause and snapped Jane out of her reverie. She quickly took position behind the counter to help Annie with any purchases and to take note of preorders for Caitlin and Josephine’s upcoming book. If tonight was anything to go by, that book launch should be a great success for all parties involved—Annie’s Book Shop included.
“I love your Broken Hearts series,” Josephine said, her eyes glistening, her words slightly slurred. “I was so sorry I couldn’t make it to the signing. Was that really the last book in the series?”
Jane chuckled. If she had a dollar for every time someone asked her that question. She nodded. Josephine didn’t look as though she was expecting Jane to actually give her an answer, and even if she did, it probably wouldn’t register fully in Josephine’s inebriated brain.
“What are you working on now?” Josephine didn’t let up with the questions. Unfortunately, this one required a bit more than a yes-or-no answer.
“I’m taking a little break at the moment.” Jane remembered the relief she had felt when she’d pulled the plug on her last attempt at a book.
“Jane Quinn.” Caitlin threw an arm around Josephine’s shoulders. “Are you responsible for getting my girlfriend drunk? Or is it Mia I need to have a word with?”
“I missed dinner,” Josephine said. “I was hoping there would be snacks.”
“We can’t have people munching on crisps while I’m doing a reading.” Caitlin turned to Josephine.
“I’m sure Mia or Taylor can fix you up with something,” Jane said. “Or at least make you a strong cup of coffee.”
“A Pink Bean coffee I don’t have to make myself. That will be the day,” Josephine said, shook herself free from Caitlin’s embrace, and ambled to the coffee counter on the other side of the shop.
Both Jane and Caitlin followed Josephine with their eyes. Jane’s glance fell on Annie, who was chatting to Kristin.
“They look very chummy,” Caitlin said, then headed in Josephine’s direction.
Chummy? Jane fixed her gaze on Annie and Kristin again. She couldn’t imagine Kristin being chummy with anyone. Sure, Annie and Kristin worked together, but they weren’t exactly colleagues who shared an office every day of the week. Th
ere was something about the way they stood there together, however, and in the tone Caitlin had used when she said chummy that made Jane watch them a little longer.
They looked as if they were chatting about how the night had gone. Annie was doing most of the talking. Kristin was mostly listening and nodding. They stood, perhaps, a little too close together for their conversation just to be about business. Then again, both Kristin and Annie’s businesses were a large part of their private lives.
Jane moved a little closer, to see if she could draw Annie’s attention away from whatever she was doing just by moving about in the same room. It used to be a game they played. Partly born out of extreme romanticism and partly out of Annie’s protectiveness of Jane when they were in social situations. Annie always made a point of checking, even just from the corner of her eye, whether Jane was doing all right—whether she hadn’t had her fill of small talk yet.
It was late and the shop was almost empty. Caitlin and Josephine were talking to Taylor near the counter. Mia and Lou were clearing away the last of the empty coffee cups. Sheryl sat on a chair in the corner gazing intently at her phone.
Jane took another step in Annie’s direction and made a game of it in her head. She would count the number of steps it took before Annie noticed her approaching. If history was anything to go by, the next step she took in her wife’s direction should surely do the trick. Annie would flash her a smile or give her a quick wink. She would pause her conversation for a fraction of a second to acknowledge Jane’s presence, to express her contentment at seeing her, because those little gestures, however tiny and insignificant to anyone else, were a significant part of who they were as a couple.
But, tonight, Annie seemed transported to another world. Whatever she and Kristin were talking about must be of extreme importance because Annie didn’t give any sign she noticed Jane was anywhere near her at all. Annie had her head cocked, her gaze glued to Kristin, a blissful smile on her face. What on earth was Kristin telling her? That she was the world’s best book shop owner? That bringing the Pink Bean into Annie’s Book Shop was the best decision she’d ever made in her life? Going by Annie’s smile, it had to be some sort of praise for Annie. Why else would she be looking at another person with such a radiant grin plastered across her face? And why would she seem to have forgotten all about Jane’s existence? Jane was only a few feet removed from her wife, and Annie still hadn’t noticed her.
Jane tried to catch snippets of their conversation. Kristin was doing most of the talking now.
“You should see my father manning his barbecue,” Kristin said. “I swear to you, I’ve caught him whispering to the thing.”
Annie gave a deep-throated chuckle. As if Kristin had just made the world’s greatest joke. She must have said something else earlier to have Annie gawking at her like that with such… admiration on her face. Yes, that was the vibe Annie was projecting. That she admired Kristin greatly for something.
Jane took the final step and cleared her throat.
For a brief moment—the instant during which Jane had expected a quick grin from her wife—Annie froze and looked like she’d seen a ghost instead of Jane. Or at the very least like Jane was interrupting a meaningful conversation.
Jane couldn’t possibly guess what that could be. They were talking about Kristin’s father’s barbecue. Jane was sure the man was very fond of it, but to her it seemed like one of the dullest topics to discuss—or perhaps that was just her natural aversion to small talk popping up.
“Jane,” Kristin was first to speak. Was that a note of relief in her voice? Maybe she was getting sick of talking about her father’s outdoor cooking habits. Or maybe she was fed up with chatting to Annie? None of this made sense to Jane. Until, a few seconds later, it very much did.
Chapter Seventeen
“Great night, don’t you think?” Kristin asked Jane.
“Caitlin was a superstar,” Jane said.
Annie hadn’t even noticed Jane approach. She barely even remembered what Kristin had been talking about to her just now. Hearing Jane talk to Kristin made her feel a bit wobbly in the knees. Or no, it wasn’t so much the fact that they were talking, but more the intense feeling of guilt it ignited in her. How long had Annie been talking to Kristin, anyway? She remembered what Caitlin James had said the other day about her body language projecting everything she was afraid to say out loud.
“We sold a lot of books,” Annie said, her voice trembling a little. Mere seconds ago, she wanted the book shop to remain open all night so she could talk to Kristin for a few more hours. Or just be near her and feel as though they were working on something together, their businesses, or a joint adventure. Now she couldn’t wait for everyone to leave so she could close the shutters, and curl up in bed, hoping for this feeling of dread to pass. In fact, she’d like to stay in bed for a few weeks, until this silly, stupid infatuation had been expelled from her system, and she could go back to feeling like a normal person again.
“And a lot of coffee,” Kristin said.
“Although some people availed more of the bubbly,” Jane said. “I hope Jo’s not working tomorrow morning.”
“Even if she doesn’t have a shift at the Pink Bean, I think Jo works every morning and every afternoon and most evenings,” Kristin said. “Headache or not, maybe it will be good for her to be forced to take a few hours off. Tomorrow is a Saturday, after all.”
Annie glanced at Jane. Did she have any idea? Either way, Annie needed to extricate herself from this situation as quickly as possible. She didn’t have a problem being alone with Kristin. In fact, in those moments when she was, she could trick her mind into forgetting about her wife all too easily. But when she saw them together, and the messiness of her emotions was being thrown back in her face, it was unbearable.
“I’ll give Mia and Lou a hand cleaning up so we can all go to bed soon.”
“I believe that’s my job,” Kristin said, and left Annie standing there with Jane, to whom Annie didn’t know what to say for fear she would betray herself even more than she might already have.
“Are you all right, babe?” Annie threw an arm over Jane’s shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze.
“I’m good,” Jane said, and she sounded as though she meant it. As though she didn’t have the faintest clue of all the things going through Annie’s mind.
“I’m going to wash my hands,” Annie said. “I’ll be right back.” She had to take a moment to herself.
Annie stood in the washroom, breathing deeply, when Caitlin waltzed in. Great.
“Annie, thanks for having me tonight. I had a gay old time.”
“It was my pleasure, believe me.” All throughout Caitlin’s reading, Annie had been thinking about that wretched conversation with her. She’d vowed to stay away from Kristin as best she could throughout the evening, which hadn’t been hard because Kristin had been busy in the coffee shop area while Annie had her hands full ringing up books. But once most people had left, Annie—high as she was on the adrenaline of a successful evening—had gravitated naturally toward Kristin. She’d found herself talking to Kristin before she even consciously realized what she was doing. Once she’d stood so close to Kristin she could smell her perfume, she hadn’t been able to drag herself away. Until Jane had interrupted them.
“Please excuse me,” Caitlin said and disappeared into a stall—to Annie’s great relief. She was already feeling guilty enough and didn’t need to be admonished by, what she hoped, was the only person present tonight aware of her silly infatuation.
Annie washed her hands and concluded that Rita had been right. She should keep more distance from Kristin. It was the only sensible thing to do. She’d ask Andrew to schedule Kristin’s volunteer work when she wasn’t there so they wouldn’t end up together in the cramped kitchen. She would relinquish her plans of inviting Sheryl and Kristin to dinner. Obviously, she couldn’t escape Kristin’s presence in her shop entirely, but she could control her reaction to it. Besides, now that
the coffee shop was up and running, Kristin stopped by less and less. And Annie wasn’t a teenager anymore. She could control her urges. Although, she suspected, when it came to infatuation and the behavior it provoked, age had very little to do with it.
Annie gazed at her reflection in the mirror and made a silent vow to herself. Enough was enough. This was the moment she was getting her priorities straight. Her wife was her number one priority again from now on.
Annie hurried out of the washroom before Caitlin emerged from the stall. She wouldn’t put it past Caitlin to give her another friendly word of advice, something Annie could use, but hardly felt like enduring.
Chapter Eighteen
Everyone had left and Jane had poured Annie and herself one last nightcap to unwind from the excitement of the night before they went to bed.
She held up her tumbler of Amaretto. “Cheers, babe.” She wasn’t sure how she had missed it all this time. She’d had plenty of opportunities to observe Annie and Kristin together. That was why she needed this drink. She was fairly certain Annie had her own reasons. “To Annie’s Book Shop.”
Dark circles were visible underneath Annie’s eyes. She usually didn’t look her age, but she did right now.
“I can open the shop tomorrow if you want to have a lie-in,” Jane said.
“You’re too good to me.” Annie leaned against her.
“I’m your wife. Wives have a habit of being kind to each other.” She pecked Annie on the top of her head. What did the fact that she’d only noticed now say about Jane, anyway? She’d been too absorbed with her writer’s block to pick up on any of the signs.
“After twenty years together, it’s easy to slip up when it comes to kindness.” Annie sounded wistful.