Page 55 of Silver Linings
“And you came to New York for that? We basically ingest a cocktail of carbon monoxide and oxygen on a daily basis.”
He shoots me a grin, but his tone feels loaded. “And yet my head has never felt clearer.”
There’s obviously something he’s not saying, a story he isn’t ready to divulge to me—maybe to himself. If he wants to keep something to himself, I respect that, even if I want to crack him open like a piñata, and watch all his thoughts spill out before me. But something tells me from the tense look on his face, even this small admission was a lot for him. I have the urge to reach out and rub my thumb against his furrowed brow, make it disappear and soften the frown settled on his flawless mouth, eradicating the sadness shading his gold flecked eyes. But I keep my hand clutching my paint roller.
“Favorite animal?” I ask with a nonchalance that deserves an Oscar.
Hendrix huffs out a breath. “Not a fucking koala, that’s for sure.”
I tilt my head at him in complete bafflement. “I don’t blame you. They’reripewith chlamydia.”
He looks at me with a bewildered expression before he lets out a hearty laugh, a real laugh with eyes alight and shoulders shaking. Gone is the heaviness hanging over his head like a cloud.
And dammit, if it doesn’t set me beaming.
fifteen
. . .
This may bethe most idiotic thing I’ve ever done.
Silver asked me to keep things platonic—and I have. For the most part, at least. I swear, friendship is all I’m thinking about as I pause outside the threshold of Brownstone Books, thinking over this decision before I go in.
When I asked her earlier this week if she planned on keeping the name of the store the same, a fleeting panic crossed her features before she wiped it away with a smile before she noncommittally shrugged and said she hadn’t decided yet. I pretended not to notice, but I haven’t stopped thinking of that look since. My brain started concocting ways to keep that look from ever sneaking onto her lovely face ever again, before chastising myself for not being able to keep her off my mind for long. I’m trying to honor her wishes but our evenings spent sanding, painting, andtalkingare my favorite part of the day.Sheis my favorite part of the day.
I felt like a different person around her. My shoulder felt looser, smiles came easier. Over the past two years, I had become accustomed to living without Maddox, and I was slowly starting to realize it wasn’t living at all—it was surviving. Andnow that I’ve had a taste of what life could be like, I want more, and now, she doesn’t.
When she told me we needed to stay just friends, it felt like a punch to the gut, a bone-deep disappointment I worked overtime to not show on my face. I suspected her need to keep things amicable was out of self-preservation. Despite the fact that there was something inherentlyunfriendlyabout the way I would catch her looking at me over the last couple weeks. If all she wants from me is friendship, that’s what she’ll get. I’ll be the best damn friend she’s ever had, and friends show up to their friend’s book clubs.
Taking a deep breath, I step inside to the sound of raucous laughter, Silver’s bright voice ringing out over the crowd.
Everyone is enthralled with her—or maybe I’m projecting, but every eye seems laser-focused on what she’s saying. There’s around thirty people here all crammed into the small space. They pushed the tables that line the center of the store off to the sides to make room for chairs.
Luck is on my side, because it’s standing room only by the time I arrive, so she hasn’t noticed I’ve slipped inside yet.
Silver is striking in a hot pink satin skirt that reaches her mid-calf and a multi-colored stripe sweater molded to her torso. The combination is loud and demands your attention, just like she does. She captivates the audience with no fear, totally in her element, hands gesticulating as she speaks animatedly about whatever book they read.
She is the most beautiful person I have ever seen.
I shift over to the right, where there’s a small table with refreshments, and grab myself a cup of coffee supplied by Respect the Drip.
I lean with my back against the entrance door frame, content to watch Silver monopolize everyone’s attention, magnetic and engaging. She works the room after each question, listeningwhile people provide their thoughts on what sounds like a romance. But swords were mentioned so, maybe a fantasy?
She checks her notes, and addresses the crowd. “Okay, there were a lot of different themes throughoutForged by Fire, but my favorite by far was the slow burn. It felt like I was slowly being tortured. Every time I was about to set the book down and go to bed, I got roped back in thinking they were about to finally break the tension. I literally started screaming at the book at one point, begging them to kiss, fight or fuck.” The crowd laughs at her fervor, but I can see a slight flush creep onto her cheeks. “But I’m curious to know what your favorite themes or tropes were?”
I take a long pull from my coffee, belatedly hoping it’s decaf, as someone to my left responds to Silver’s prompt.
“Personally, I loved that Finn had two dicks.”
Several people are murmuring their assent as I start choking on my drink.
I’m fighting for my life, aggressively coughing around my shocked sputters, when everyone in the room turns to look in my direction.
My eyes connect with ones of aquamarine, and a slow, mischievous smile engulfs Silver’s face.
“Are you okay, Harrington?” She challenges.
I work hard to catch my breath. “Perfect, thank you, Saffron.”
