Graphically Novel (Love Hashtagged #3) (14 page)

The rain drove against the side of the building and then the wind switched direction, howling through the cracks in her front window, slamming large drops of water into the glass.

She wouldn’t look up. Gaze on the screen. He would go home soon. And it served him right that he was getting soaked. Five minutes passed. Then ten. And then an hour. She watched the clock tick off the seconds in time to the beat of the hammering rain.

Fuck it. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom and yanked open the front door. She shoved the towel into his arms and pulled him inside by his soaked shirt.

She shut the door behind him and leaned against it. “I’ll let you talk, and then you’ll go home.”

He nodded. A heavy silence settled between them while he toweled off his hair and patted his clothes dry. Sort of. He still left a puddle under his feet. She didn’t even care. The carpet would dry.

“I’m sorry.”

It startled her, but at least he got that bit right. “So?”

“I know I haven’t told you this yet, but you have to know. I don’t love Riley, I don’t miss her, and I don’t want another chance with her. I love you.”

The confession cut deep, and she couldn’t tuck aside the resulting gash. The open wound filled with the negativity that had built throughout the evening. She clenched her jaw, to keep anything from coming out.

“The only reason I care she left is because I don’t know what I did wrong. Not because I want her back, but because I don’t want to make the same mistakes with you. I want you. I need you. I can’t lose you.”

Each new word tugged at her insides. A sob rose in her throat, but she swallowed it. She took a few deep breaths, to make sure she could speak without her voice cracking. “I’m not her. If you mean that, you need to be figuring out how to make us work, not what went wrong in the past.”

“I know.” He took a step forward, and stopped when she moved back. “I was wrong. About so much. And I lived in the past for too long, and I have you right here in front of me, and I let what happened before blind me to what we have. You’re this amazing, incredible, brilliant, gorgeous woman. And I love you, and I’m so sorry.”

Damn it, he needed to stop saying that… that …
L
-word. Her tentative grip on composure was sliding away. She dug her will into it and clung to its last threads. Instinct wanted to shut him out. To hide away what she was thinking.

But she couldn’t stop herself from speaking her mind. “I can’t trust you. Especially not around Riley. And if I can’t trust you, we don’t have anything. Not even friendship.” Agony wrenched her chest.

“I understand.”

She yanked back the part of her that wanted to tell him it was okay. That they’d make it work. It wasn’t true, though, and it wouldn’t stop the pain. She tugged the door open. “I heard you out. Go home.”

“Tell me how to make it better.” He looked up, and locked his gaze on hers.

“I don’t know if you can. I think we’re beyond making things better.”

“I see.”

“Good night.” She felt like she was sawing herself in half when she closed the door behind him. She waited a few minutes, watching his shadow through the front curtains. Her gut plummeted to the floor when he finally turned away.

She did the same, heading into the bedroom. She dropped onto the mattress, pulled her knees to her chest, and sobbed, letting each body-wrenching ache tear through her. Maybe they would rip her apart. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with the mess that was her relationship with Archer.

The only way Archer could take his mind off Tori was by poring over his tattered financial records. Even that only distracted him for a few minutes at a time. His chest throbbed when he stumbled across Elliot’s contract. Fuck. Even if he wanted to—which was a serious possibility—he couldn’t without Tori.

A new wave of guilt rushed through him the moment the thought crossed his mind. It was true he wanted to see her do something with her talent, but he couldn’t suck her into a shitty contract. She deserved better than Elliot’s offer.

The door chimed, drawing his attention away from the discouraging numbers. It was Gwen. Was she there to bitch at him on Tori’s behalf? That couldn’t be the case, but a bit of him hoped. It would mean Tori hadn’t forgotten about him.

He pasted on a smile and gave her his full attention. Easy enough, since she was the only person in the shop. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I really hope you still have that VF-1J… and you do.”

The transforming plane from a decades-old cartoon? He hadn’t expected that. “Yeah. It’s the kind of thing people always want to see, but never want to buy.” Once they saw the four-hundred dollar price tag, most of them were reluctant to even touch the box for fear they might break it.

“I do.”

“Excuse me?” He blinked and shook his head. There was no way he’d heard her right.

“I want the model. It’s fully transformable, right?”

He pulled the box off the top shelf. Had he fallen asleep doing accounting? This was too surreal. “All three modes.”

She paid without batting an eye when he told her the total, her gaze wandering around the store while he found a bag big enough for the box. She turned back to him, studying him for a moment before speaking. “How long do you have?”

“For…?” This definitely wasn’t real, because he had no idea what she meant.

“Until you lose this place.”

“Is it that obvious?”

She rested the bag on the floor. “Probably not to most people, but you tend to wear a look of permanent gloom. And your shelves are a little barren.”

“It’s been better, but it’s been worse, too.” The gloomy look was only partly related to the shop, but he didn’t want to share with this almost stranger. Hell, he didn’t know if he wanted to share much of anything with her. Like that her purchase would pay his power bill next month.

“As long as you’re going to be around for a while. We need more places like yours.”

Something about the way she phrased the statement snapped his leash on propriety—or maybe it was because he was dealing with so much. “Actually, business sucks. I’ve got a year at the outside, and that’s only if I cut my own salary and manage to keep renters in the two apartments on the middle floor.” Not a lot of reliable renters wanted to live above a comic book store. “There’s an option on the table, but I have to make some concessions that aren’t mine to make, in order to take it. And that’s only if I even wanted to.”

“Can I ask what kind of option?”

“You can see for yourself if you want.” It wasn’t appropriate for him to talk money with anyone but his accountant, but he didn’t care anymore. He plucked Elliot’s contract from the stack of paperwork and slid it across the counter.

She grabbed the contract and skimmed it. Occasionally she raised her brows, or made a clucking noise with her tongue. A few minutes later, she handed it back. “You’re thinking about signing this?”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not I want to. The offer isn’t valid without—” He snapped his mouth shut before he could spill more. He really didn’t want to get into anything about Tori. His business was his to talk about, but he didn’t have any right to spill her life.

“I read the last few pages. If that wasn’t a condition, would you sign so much away?”

He knew what she was talking about. Even though the contract said all he had to do now was give the comic company top billing in his shop, that he didn’t have to get rid of anyone else’s books or toys, there was a loophole that could eventually turn the shop into whatever Elliot’s company wanted. “I need the money. They’re offering a steady revenue stream. The possibility of them forcing me out eventually is better than being forced out now.”

“Is it really?”

His gut sank. No, it wasn’t. But he didn’t have another choice.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Since he’d pretty much told her everything already, he wasn’t sure what it would hurt.

“Why haven’t you ever expanded?”

He stared at her for a moment, looking for a hint she was joking. Had she missed the rest of the conversation? “If I can’t afford one store—and I own the property here—how am I supposed to open a second one?”

“You misunderstand. You’re a talented chef; those bean-paste buns the other day were incredible. Have you seen those milk-and-tea shops popping up around the country?”

“I’ve heard a little.” Some of the people in anime club had talked about one in Detroit, after getting back from a convention there. The place had been modeled after a similar trend in Japan. The waiters and waitresses all wore costumes, and the entire thing was supposed to be a combination of good food, a fun atmosphere, and a feeling of being in Japan without having to leave the US.

“The house is already wired for electricity and has water. You’ve got kitchens in each apartment, and you have access to a brilliant costume designer. What’s stopping you from adding something like that to your store?”

The idea hadn’t occurred to him. That was the first thing stopping him. But now that it was bouncing in his head… The brilliant costume designer he knew wouldn’t have anything to do with him. And he wasn’t even worried about the business implications.

How was he going to make things right? He tucked the thought away as best he could—which wasn’t really at all—to get back to the conversation. “I don’t have any space for something like a café.”

She nodded at the series of tables at the far end of the room, and another ache tore through him with the memory of his first time with Tori. God, he missed her.

He swallowed back the thought. “I like to keep it in reserve, in case anyone wants to tabletop game.”

“So set up a few smaller tables, some more chairs, and let them use some of them if anyone has the urge. You’ve got room behind the counter for an espresso machine. Install a sandwich press or microwave, or serve those rice balls and such cold.”

The idea was tempting. The more she talked, the more he liked it. But that didn’t mean it was practical. “Even if I wanted to do it, I can’t afford those kinds of changes. Not now.”

“I’ll invest.” She didn’t hesitate.

“I… Uh… What?” He couldn’t have heard her right. “This isn’t the kind of venture you make a lot of money from.”

“I’m not in it for the money, though I certainly won’t complain about the return.” She nodded toward the bag at her feet. “I told you, we need more places like this. I get tired of diner food. This gives me a new place to stop for a cup of coffee, because now that I’ve been in here, I’m going to blow most of my wallet on toys until Brad stops me.

“Besides,
invest
probably wasn’t the right word. Think of it more as a loan. I’ll be a silent partner as long as you’re making your monthly payments, and in five years, you’ll be out of debt if you run things right.”

“So what makes your offer better than this one?” He nodded at the contract on the counter. “No offense, but how do I know I’m any safer with you?”

“Smart man. No wonder Tori likes you. We’ll put it all in writing, have a lawyer look it over, and it’ll all be in the contract. You don’t sign unless you’re comfortable with it.”

It was too good to be true, but that didn’t stop him from clinging to the idea. He wanted it, and he liked it, and he only saw one other issue with it. “I don’t have access to a costume designer, though.” Didn’t she already know that?

“I thought…” She pursed her lips. “I won’t ask for details. But regardless of what happened between the two of you, I’ll be your go-between. Contract her independently. I hear from a reliable source she’s doing that now. You can do it without her, too. But she’s got skill, and your wait staff would look good in her outfits.”

Tori did have skill. He never denied that. He also couldn’t deny that, regardless of how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. “Give me some time to think about it.”

“You know where to find me when you decide. Don’t take too long.”

“Or the offer expires?” His body tensed.

She gave him a look he could only describe as confounded. “Or you won’t have a shop left to expand. You already told me your time was short.”

“Right.” He leaned back against the counter. “Of course. I’ll let you know soon.”

* * * *

Tori paced the length of her condo. She was surprised she hadn’t worn a rut in the floor yet. Almost two weeks of her new
consulting
position, and she was going out of her mind with boredom. She needed to reach out to some commission contacts. She needed to dive more into the search. Her gaze fell on the dress form in the corner and the costume hanging next to it, from Riley’s book launch.

She needed to get over an entire chapter of her life. What had she been thinking? Sleeping with a guy she wasn’t dating, daydreaming about making what she wanted instead of what people paid for, wishing she had a life she wasn’t meant for. An unwanted wave of sorrow swept over her. She wanted Archer back.

No, she didn’t. She was fine. She’d get over him. She didn’t miss him so much it kept her up at night and made every bit of her ache from the memories.

A knock echoed through her apartment, and her heart leaped. Would it be Archer? Stupid,
stupid
thought. Why would she want to see him? If it was him, the conversation wouldn’t last long.

Disappointment flickered through her when she saw Riley.

“I know I’m not who you want to see, but I have to apologize.” Riley’s smile was weak.

Tori let her in and turned away. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did. I egged him on. I shouldn’t have pushed. I’m sorry.”

Damn it. Tori had managed to hold back the tears for a couple of days. She didn’t need them coming back now. She blinked away the sting in her eyelids before facing Riley again. “At least I found out now. Before anything happened.”

Like the confession of love he made a few hours after. Or a commitment, since she’d already given everything else to him. She choked back a sob. No, she hadn’t. She was being melodramatic.

So then, why did it hurt so much?

“I guess.” Riley traced a finger around her collar. “I was also wondering if you’d be willing to take a commission from me?”

Commission.
The word stuck in Tori’s brain. It didn’t wipe away the sorrow, but it did distract her for a moment. “For…?”

“We have pictures posted on the website of the release party, and the comments and e-mails are starting to choke the servers.” Riley laughed. “I need to know if you can make me more outfits. Charge me whatever you normally would, and I’d love your input on new designs. I need a couple for giveaways. And maybe more than a couple of the collars. People really love those.”

She couldn’t be hearing right. Actual creative work? She wanted to assure Riley it was okay, she’d make them and only charge for materials, but the business part of her brain kicked in, and for once, Tori allowed it full rein. “I’ll give you a discount if you link back to me.”

“Do you have something to link back to? Because I would do that in a heartbeat.” Riley tugged her toward the couch, a glint sparkling in her blue eyes. “Are you going full time? What about your job?”

Tori pulled away. She’d never been a fan of how physical Riley was. Today, it was an even more painful reminder of Archer and all the things Tori must have done wrong. Of all the ways she was different from Riley.

She dropped into an easy chair across from Riley. “I’ve scaled back on my at-work responsibilities.”

“Are you serious? That’s amazing. Working for yourself, charging more, and getting paid every time someone makes an order.”

Except ninety-nine percent of her customers came from the one place she was never stepping foot in again. Her sorrow returned in a single rush. She fiddled with the edge of the cushion beneath her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You and Zane. How did you know?”

Riley shifted in her seat, not meeting Tori’s gaze. “We’ve both known for a long time, but we were really good at ignoring it. One day, it hit me, and I had to tell him. Not saying something—the regret associated with it—would slowly consume my soul and sanity.”

And Tori thought
she
was melodramatic. Despite the fact she wanted to be disgusted by the sappiness, she adored it. And she hated herself for not being capable of the same thing.

“I’m sorry.” Riley flopped back against the couch. “That probably doesn’t help you any. I overheard everything you said to Archer. I know you’ve already told him, and he threw it back at you.”