Page 85 of Fireworks
The annoyance that rose was instinct: he’d put precious time and energy into helping her again when he should have been taking care of himself and his business.
But then she stroked the etchings in the wooden desk, and it was all shoved back down – somewhere she couldn’t find it again, this time. Tears blurred her vision as she turned around. The bookshop was back, cosier and more beautiful than ever, and that meant the flat wouldn’t be far behind.
Finally, something had righted itself.
Since they’d already planned to chat this morning, she wasn’t surprised when Fraser’s entrance tinkled through the shop. She whirled and hugged him before he could reach the welcome mat, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Fraser froze, voice hardening with dread. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, you big plonker!” Pulling away, she wiped her cheeks with the sleeves of her hoodie. “I can’t believe you did all this! You fixed it all! We weren’t planning to reopen for another week or two yet, but now” – a shuddering breath – “we can!”
The joy was almost enough to overpower the heartache she’d felt since ending things with Warren. Still, there were pieces of him in this bookshop that she wasn’t ready to confront. The stockroom where their fire had first kindled. Even the curb outside where he’d sat with her, wrapping her up in a blanket and gently asking if he could take her home.
Fraser squeezed her shoulder, his gaze unusually soft – especially considering she was owed a huge, long-winded lecture on how terrible she’d been to lie about seeing Finlay. “I’m glad you’re happy. As much as I’d like to take all the credit, I did have help.”
“Harper,” Eiley stated knowingly. “I’ll be thanking her with the best book party Belbarrow has ever seen. How was your weekend away, minus the headache Mum gave you when she thought you were caught in the wildfire? Not okay, by the way.”
“Aye, I know. I’ll never forget to charge my phone again,” he promised with a roll of his eyes. “But no,” he said as an afterthought, “it wasn’t Harper, and thank god for it. She’s banned from ever using my tools.”
“Oh. Cam?” That would have been odd. Cam wasn’t a fan of anything involving screwdrivers or flatpack. Assembling Isla and Archie’s cots had almost broken her, Sorcha always having to take over before she smashed the entire house to pieces.
“No, not Cam.” Fraser waited for her expectantly. “C’mon, Eiley. He told me not to tell you, which means you have to figure it out for yourself.”
She blanched, his name coming out in little more than a whisper: “Warren?”
A nod.
“Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he wantyouto tell me?” He had to have done this before their fight, even before the fire, yet he hadn’t mentioned it.
Fraser shrugged. “Because he knows you’d bite his head off, probably. He wanted to make you happy without also making you angry, which, by the way, isn’t that easy.”
Eiley looked around again at the uniform shelves, tall and steady where hers had been wonky and slow to build. He’d left the books for her to sort, likely because he remembered her complaints about Fergus.
“When?” Her voice was raspy, fragile.
“Saturday afternoon, before Harper and I set off.”
Knowing she’d be in Glasgow.
It wasn’t the first time she wondered if she’d made a mistake in ending things, but it was the first time the possibility hither like a kick to the stomach, leaving her tender and breathless. She’d rejected a man who had rebuilt everything that was broken. Who cared for her enough to do it without asking, or even without taking the credit. While she’d tried to fix her family, pushing him out of it in the process, he’d been here anyway.
“Which brings us to our next discussion,” Fraser began. “Please don’t ever make my fiancée lie to me again. She’s really very bad at it.”
Any scolding turned to white noise at that word. “Fiancée?”
He smiled, eyes glittering with unbridled joy. “Aye. I didn’t plan on asking before Christmas, but of course she found the bloody ring in my pocket.”
Eiley’s squeal was not a noise she’d ever produced before. She hugged him again, extra tight this time, relishing in theoomphhe let out. “Sothat’swhy you’re less grumpy than usual!”
“Oh, believe me, I was extremely grumpy when I found out you’d gone to see Finlay.”
Sheepishly, she pulled away. “I’m sorry, Fraser. I just needed to do this for the kids without other voices in my head trying to steer me in different directions.”
He sighed, and she braced herself for the stern telling off.
But he only said, “I get it.”
She raised her brow, wondering if all of this was a dream, because reality did not usually run this smoothly. The shelves should be falling down, and Fraser should be so angry he could barely look at her, and Eiley should be crying sad tears instead of happy. “You do?”
