“Yes,” he answers easily.
“Oh.”
Draping his arm over my shoulder, he says, “That’s an interesting quote to gravitate toward. Are you experiencing a conflicted conscience?”
It’s hard not to stiffen, but he can feel me now, so I try to keep my body relaxed even though his question puts me on edge. I should know better than to talk to him at all. I should have told him I had laryngitis. I don’t want him reading me today. Sin is trusting me to keep my damn mouth shut, and I don’t want to try to withstand Rafe’s prying powers.
“I gravitate toward plenty of quotes from this book,” I tell him, leaning forward to replace it on the shelf.
“Don’t put it back,” he tells me. “We’ll buy it.”
“I already have it.”
“This edition?”
“Well, no,” I say.
“Get this one. Highlight all your favorite passages and I’ll read it afterward. Try to ferret out why you like them,” he says, smiling faintly.
Goddammit, it’s like he knows. It’s like he’s burrowing into my heart and making my stomach hurt on purpose.
“I like you so much when we’re in bookstores,” I inform him.
“Maybe we should move into one,” he suggests lightly.
“Maybe we should only ever talk to each other when I’m holding a book. It seems to make a difference.”
“I do like the sight of you holding books. Reminds me of my professor fantasies.”
Ugh, another fucking hit. He needs to stop. He’s going to kill me with guilt.
I need to see Sin again. I need to know what is happening tomorrow. I can’t do this. I can’t keep quiet and wake up tomorrow in a Rafe-less world.
“Maybe you and I are better friends than lovers,” I suggest, even as my heart turns over in my chest. “If we weren’t together, we could still do things like this. We could still be friends. We could still take trips to the bookstore and grab lunch or dinner. You’re well-versed at spending time with women you’re not in relationships with. It’s second nature to you at this point. I think we might even get along better if we took the pressure of a relationship off the table. I know you think people would see it as you not being able to manage your personal life, but I actually think it could look exactly the opposite if you spun it the right way. It would be the easiest thing in the world to believe you don’t want to be tied down, that you want to keep your freedom. How could anyone who knows you possibly question that? Commitment isn’t for you—so what? It’s not for everybody. That doesn’t make you incapable of handling your shit. If anyone tries to say shit about it, make an example out of them. Show them your strength as a leader and after you’ve decimated them, ask if anyone else has a problem with the way you run your family.” I nod my head, confident in this plan. “This is a good plan. I don’t want to say I should be in charge of all your decisions, but, I mean, maybe.”
Rafe nods absently, pulling his wallet out as we approach the cash register. “Are you done now?”
“Come on, you can’t dispute any of that,” I tell him.
; He nods at the cashier. “Give the nice lady your book so we can go to dinner.”
I sigh heavily, laying my book down on the counter. “It’s a good idea,” I grumble.
Rafe ignores me, pays for my book, and then walks me out to his car so we can go to dinner. I hope to pick the conversation back up in the car, mainly with Rafe saying, “You know, Laurel, you’re right. Why don’t you and I just be friends, you can be with Sin and do the heavy lifting parentally, and I’ll pop in to have fun from time to time while still maintaining the freedom to bang as many pieces of cotton candy as I want to bang? That actually sounds perfect for me. Good thinking.”
Because Rafe despises logic, apparently, that does not happen.
When we get to Rafe’s restaurant, we go to his usual curved booth with the beautiful city view. Virginia is our waitress, as usual. She pops over to get our drink order, then goes to get them. While she’s away, I notice Rafe looking around, his eyes narrowed as if in confusion.
“Everything okay?” I ask him.
Glancing back at me, he nods. “Yeah.” Rather than further commenting, he nods at the copy of Jane Eyre I brought in and put down on the table in front of me. “Planning to start reading while we eat?”
“No, I just didn’t want the book to get lonely in the car,” I inform him.
Virginia comes back, serving Rafe first, then putting my drink down in front of me. “Ooh, Jane Eyre. Good pick. First time reading it?”