Page 140 of Give & Take

Lana’s pretty little hands bunch up into fists, and I badly want to rip these helmets off again so I can properly take her in my arms and remind her again what I told her in the water. That I’m in love with her and there will never,everbe anyone else for me. So I can kiss the shit out of her and tell her how much I missed her after only four days apart and how much I’ve been thinking about our future together.

But she’s already walking toward the bike. “Let’s just look at it.”

The shop’s only two blocks from here, so I only get to enjoy the feeling of her warm body pressed against my back for what feels like half a minute.

But it’s enough to remind my body how much I missed her in all the other ways too.

When we get to the storefront, Lana pulls off her helmet without the difficulty her mom had. As she shakes out her hair I wonder if she was ever with a man who owned a motorcycle before. The thought makes me indescribably jealous.

And suddenly I understand. It’s not rational, the way we love. It’s knee-jerk and so vulnerable, so closelystitched to our deepest fears. She saw what she feared and so did I.

I grasp her hand and lace my fingers through hers possessively. I’m openly flaunting our tacit no-PDA rule. I want everyone to know she’s mine.

Lana glances around. There’s no one in sight, but she still removes her hand, leaving me bereft.

And slightly panicky. Did something change, while I was gone? Or has she always been pulling away?

I stuff those thoughts down. This is how it’s been with us, and I agreed to the secrecy for the girls. Even though now they know I have kissing feelings for their Mom, anyway thanks to my big mouth. I add that conversation to the list of things we need to talk about.

“Do you want to look inside?” I ask after a moment of staring through the plate glass window. It’s hard to see inside with the lights off and the glare from the long, early evening light.

Lana looks surprised. And maybe just a little excited, which makes me feel just the slightest bit that this isn’t totally going off the rails. “You have the key?” she asks.

“Ida gave me the code.” I reach for the lockbox. “I think she was so excited at the interest I could have asked her to move in while we think about it.”

She remains stony faced.

“While you think about it.”

“Raph, I never said I was seriously considering the bookstore idea.”

“Mm,” I say as I twist the code into the box. “Is that why you borrowed that ‘So You Wanna Open a Bookstore’ book from the library?”

“It wasn’t called that!”

“It kind of was.”

She flushes as I pop the box. We’re okay.

“Thinking of Opening a Bookstore,” she grumbles.

I grin, but hide it from her.

The key’s a little stiff, but when I open the door, a little bell jingles, and I catch Lana softening at the sound.

“There’s nothing like it, right? The soft little bell, the sound of music. The scent of books.” I breathe deep.

Then I cough, because this place is dusty as hell.

Lana’s hesitant at first, standing in place as she looks around. But she’s got that cataloguing look on her face I love so much. I don’t think it’s things to say that are flashing through her mind right now though. I think it’s ideas. Because I know she’s been thinking about this. That book I saw tucked into the stack on her bedside table was only one thing. She also left out a note the other day, stuffed into a stack of bills in the kitchen. It was a basic balance sheet for opening a store. I know because it said “book inventory” as one of the line items. And because she’d scribbled notes underneath with authors’ names and things like “Talking about needs night?” And “Spicy Book Club?”

The other day I was reading one of her favorite authors’ books, it was strictly about a duke with a huge dong—I loved it—and mentioned the author loves doing bookstore signings.

She’d perked up for a microsecond before organizing her expression with a ‘that’s nice’.

I would never corner her into something she doesn’t want.

But Lana wants this.

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