Page 65 of Fake Wife
When we part, I leave in better spirits than when I arrived, and just as I did after I left here the last time, I head off to Powell’s to arm myself with more books from their used books collection so I have something to read while I sort my life out.
A quick check of my phone on the walk over shows I’ve missed a handful of calls from both Caitlin and Corbin, so I text them back, letting Corbin know where I’m going and asking him what he wants for dinner.
I feel like cooking something special.
Anything you want to make, I’ll eat. And as a thank-you, I’ll eat you later.
Good grief. His text makes me stumble on the sidewalk and I right myself. Looking around to see if anyone saw me, I pause when I catch a small huddle of women around my age staring at me and whispering.
Oh God. They notice me. They even recognize me.
I type out a reply.
You just made me trip. Now women are staring at me. I think some of them recognize me. How do you live like this?
He replies,They’re staring because you’re beautiful. Go buy books. I just got done with work, and I’ll come pick you up. And if you get hurt, I’ll kiss it and make it better. Everywhere.
Stop it,I type back, and slide my phone into my purse.
I don’t need skinned knees and a bruised ego on top of being watched.
I duck my head and hurry to Powell’s. Entering the store, I don’t bother glancing at the large sign that maps the store. I go straight to the Orange Room, which houses the used books.
There I spend what feels like hours, grabbing appealing romance books as well as thrillers and some crime mysteries. I even have a small stack of nonfiction books about starting your own business that don’t seem too technical.
Once I’ve checked out, I go sit in the Coffee Room and open up one of the crime thrillers, written by John Sandford, and start reading. No romance yet. William’s story of meeting Mary is sweet, but I have enough romance and lust and love in my life. I don’t need it muddled with other people’s dramatic and over-the-top problems.
I’ve just turned the page to chapter four of my book, my coffee cooling and a blueberry muffin half eaten and forgotten, when a shadow falls over me. I look up, expecting to see Corbin, but my jaw drops when Drake slides into the chair next to me.
“Drake?” I look around the store. “What are you doing here?”
He’s never once come into Powell’s. Always said he read enough books in medical school and he doesn’t have the patience for them now. And works too long and too hard to want to do anything except sleep when he comes home. At least that’s the excuse he always gave me, but now I know he also enjoys other things when he’s not sleeping.
Like going with me to the bookstore, his other pursuits hadn’t included me, either.
“Thank goodness I found you, Teagan. I’ve been looking all over for you this last week.”
“What?”
I jerk back, wood chair scraping on the floor making a screeching sound and attracting attention.
God, if people recognized me on the street, will they do the same here?
I scan for cellphones and surreptitious photos being taken. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I look back at Drake.
“Honey, I said I wanted to talk to you and explain everything. But then you disappeared.”
His eyes are wild, not nearly as calm and steady as usual and even his dark hair is messed up. He’s wearing his signature scrubs, so I know he’s either going to work or just finishing a shift, but Drake has never looked panicked.
Not even when he had to study for his boards. Purple rims his eyes showing his exhaustion.
I’d ask if he was okay, if I cared. I don’t.
I begin stacking my books, pushing back from the table and standing, when Drake places his hand on top of my growing pile. I have one book in both my hands. A thick nonfiction volume that could probably bruise his knuckles if I slam it down onto his hand.
Tempting.
“I want you to leave me alone, Drake. This is the last time I’m going to ask.” I glare at him and he flinches.
