The Collector | 18+

【18】Long Distance

Stunned.

I was entirely and irrevocably stunned.

Had I done this? Had our moment in the broom closet convinced him to show me some mercy by extending my time with the sword? It had never occurred to me that he wouldn't want the sword immediately. Not with the way he'd come to London within hours of being forwarded my email. No, it was an urgent matter to him, a family thing, and he'd shown that he wanted the sword as much as I did.

All of this meant he'd done this for me. Because even if he couldn't let go of the sword, I still mattered to some extent.

Mullins kept talking for a moment, but I could barely hear his voice, too shocked to pay attention. Was Mr. Westergaard trying to have both? To win me over by being clement? He'd shown his interest in me clearly enough, so I couldn't doubt it. But this, his actions, proved it more than any of his sulfurous declarations could.

I regained some modicum of control when Mr. Mullins took his leave. I picked up my jaw and wished him a good afternoon.

Mr. Westergaard was leaving the sword in my care for two entire months, despite how much money he'd just spent on it...

My hand was shaking when I grabbed my phone, lying next to my laptop. I went to my call history and scrolled down, looking for the time he'd called me two evenings ago. Thinking that assuming I would need it might jinx everything, I hadn't saved his number into my phone. I then spent a solid fifteen minutes trying to decide what I should send him. Was he even still in London? Had he left to return to his home country, to his estate?

Regardless of the answer, the number I had was Norwegian, so he'd get my message whether he was here or not. After much internal debate, I simply sent, Thank you, realizing how underwhelming it was. But he'd still bought the sword in the end, so his unexpected act of kindness didn't compensate for everything.

The rest of my afternoon was spent jumping on my phone every time it buzzed next to me. I was eager to receive his reply, and maybe spark a conversation, to delay the moment we'd return to being strangers. Which we still were, since I barely knew the man. Alas, all the messages I received were from Gigi, who was bored at home, sending me memes and pictures of the cats acting like wildlings.

I was just getting home when it vibrated in my jeans' back pocket. Since it wasn't the messaging app I used with Gigi, I knew it was his answer the instant I saw the notification when I checked my phone. Everything I was holding was promptly dropped, and I unlocked it.

To my dismay, his answer echoed the tone of my original text—cold and distant. You're welcome, he'd written.

My lips protruded in a pout as I stared at his reply, ignoring the cats chanting at my feet. I couldn't blame him for being so curt, since I'd been that way myself. Part of me had expected him to be all charming and brash, as he'd been from the start. But there was no reason why he should always be the one making advances and working on exploring what this thing was between us.

I really appreciate it, I sent. As soon as I pressed the button, I regretted replying so quickly. He'd made me wait hours, and here I was, answering him barely a minute after his text. Well, now it was done, and there was no point trying to be coy about it. Could I make it up to you with dinner? I boldly suggested. Although I barely ever cooked since Gigi always took charge, I wasn't too bad at it, and I could whip up something for us if he agreed.

I was done feeding the beasts when he texted me back. Ah, at least he wouldn't make me wait for hours every time. I'm afraid not, Miss Connelly. My heart hammered in my chest, deeply affected by his rejection. Was he annoyed with me because I'd managed to make him change his mind about the sword?