This Love | ✓

Part 6

I left the café with a huge, giddy grin on my face. 

I was still grinning when I pushed through the front door of Athena's Used Books, greeted Zach, handed him his coffee, and sat next to him on the couch.

But the smile was wiped clean off my face when Zach showed me the store register as he had promised. I scanned the page, filled with his hurried scrawl in thick blue ink. The register listed rows and rows of people's names, the titles of the books they had submitted, and the dates of submission.

I ran my fingers across Claire's name repeatedly, forcing myself to read the titles inked alongside her name. Disappointment and confusion muddled my thoughts as my mind tried to absorb the words on the page.

I thought she still loved him . . .

She wouldn't have done this if she did . . . Right?

But she was so angry about it last year . . .

That was the first time she had broken down in front of me and Rita . . . 

It never happened again.

"I don't understand," I muttered.

"You know, you can talk to me if you want to," Zach said, sensing my distress.

I looked at his face, filled with kindness and honesty. The urge to divulge the truth and unload all my troubles on him was overpowering.

I inhaled deeply. Just as I began to explain why I wanted to see the register, a loud ringing noise sounded from my bag.

I rooted around the backpack and pulled out my phone. Claire was calling.

Holding up my hand apologetically to Zach, I answered, "Hey, Claire."

"Lee, hi," she said. "I just wanted to tell you that I'll be coming over for lunch in a few minutes. I'm on my way."

"Okay! I'm at the bookstore where you dropped me off."

"All right. Are you having a good time?"

"I am!" I smiled excitedly.

"Good! I'll see you there. Bye!" 

"Bye, Claire!"

Returning my phone to my backpack, I turned to Zach, "Claire's going to pick me up for lunch soon. Can you lock up and come with us?"

"I'd love to, but I can't lock up yet," he explained with an apologetic shrug. "David will bring lunch here in a while."

"Say no more," I said with a smile. "We'll go out another time."

While Zach got up to put away the register, I disposed off the coffee cups but kept the paper bag from the café. I stood near the trash can, tracing my fingers over my name etched into the paper. Feeling a little like a crazy stalker, I folded the bag and tucked it into the bottom of my backpack.

A few minutes later, Claire walked into the store and conversed with Zach briefly. I exchanged goodbyes with Zach before she led me to a quaint Italian restaurant a few blocks away from the bookstore. 

We settled ourselves into a cozy corner table. We talked about unimportant little things as we ate the delicious, piping hot lunch. I sighed with satisfaction after I swallowed the last of my spaghetti with mushrooms.

On the drive back to Claire's house, she questioned me about my day. I told her about Zach, carefully avoiding the subject of the store register. I decided to bring it up at another time. I also mentioned Java Lava nonchalantly, withholding details about Jason and the muffin we had shared.

Heat crept into my face as I pictured his stunning, differently coloured eyes and his mischievous smile. My sudden and all-consuming fascination with him was inexplicable; I had never felt anything like it before.

Claire dropped me off at her house and returned to work. I changed into a pair of sweatpants before settling into the cozy couch in the living room with the steamy romance that I had purchased earlier that day.

An hour later, I stood up to get a drink. Downing the glass of water, I wondered what to do next. On a whim, I walked over to the computer in the media room. I booted up the system and logged into my email account. My inbox loaded into view. I had over a dozen promotional emails from online shopping websites. 

Ugh, spam. As usual. 

I doggedly selected each message and deleted them. But just as the emails disappeared from my inbox, something caught my eye. A hauntingly familiar email address.

Totally bewildered, I clicked on the list of recently deleted emails and scanned them. 

Spam, spam, spam . . . wait. What the hell?

My fingers hesitated over the mouse. Hi Leena, the subject read. Heart thumping unevenly, I stared at the sender's ID again.

It's him.