Page 22 of Only and Forever
“Well then,friend,” I tell him, shrugging off my bomber jacket. “How about you give me the grand tour?”
—
“This is Lisa.” He points to another potted plant, a lacy, elegant fern. I’m no plant expert, but even I recognize that one. “And, last but not least, Beverly.” He lovingly pats the ceramic pot containing an impressively tall, healthy-looking plant with giant, wave-edged leaves.
“What is that?” I ask.
“I said this is Beverly.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I caught the name. What kind ofplant?”
“Oh.” He smiles. “A fiddle-leaf fig.”
“Hmm.” I touch the leaf softly, dragging a finger down its spine. “I like it.”
A blush creeps up his cheeks. Viggo spins and gestures behind me. “This way next.”
We’ve been all around the store, except for the front, across from the reading nook, where another row of bookshelves sits separate from the rest. A black-and-white Alusky that looks like it’s getting up in years snoozes on a dog bed at the foot of the bookshelf, a bowl of water beside it. More plants hang from the ceiling above the sleeping pup, an aerial garden of leaves and vines, shades of green ranging from vibrant chartreuse to deep jade.
Viggo stops, then spins, facing me again. He looks perplexed.
“What is it?” I ask.
“You didn’t think it was weird that I’ve named all my plants.”
I shrug. “You have strong plant-daddy energy; I’m not surprised.”
“I named them forromanceauthors. Lisa Kleypas. Beverly Jenkins. Tessa Dare. Lorraine Heath. Courtney Milan. Cat Sebastian—”
“Again, I’m not surprised. You named your plants after authors you love. No knocks on that.”
His gaze darts to mine. “Why are you beingnicetonight? Do you feel bad for me? Is the place so pathetic that you’re pitying me—”
“Whoa.” I put my hands up. “Hold on.”
Viggo sets his hands on his hips, peering down at me. “Okay. I’m holding.”
The raw insecurity in his expression makes my stomach knot. “I’m not beingnice. I don’t pity you. I’m just... here. Responding to what I see. You did something big, Viggo. Something impressive. You opened up a damn store, and you have a lot to be proud of. I’m not here to take a shit on that.”
He clears his throat, scrubbing at the back of his neck before he tugs his ball cap low over his eyes. “Okay.”
I know he and I don’t have the best history, but I hate that he’s been walking around this whole time, talking my ear off, silently worried that I’m judging him, or worse, only humoring him. The intensity of my remorse makes me do something I never do, something Ihatedoing—explain myself.
“Listen,” I tell him quietly, tugging down my sleeves to give myself something to do besides look into those striking, earnest eyes of his. “How I acted toward you, when we were in college, when I saw you last year, that’s not ayouthing. It’s amething. Both in school and at the A-frame, you were welcoming and warm, and I was... closed off and cold. But that’s just how I am. I’m that way with everyone. I’ve never looked down on you or thought less of you. I came to what I thought was your store’s grand opening because you went after what matters to you, worked your ass off to achieve it, and that’s worth celebrating, even if you are clearly overinvested in romance novels, and you might have a plant-hoarding problem.”
He tips up his ball cap a little and meets my eyes, staring at me like I’ve shocked him. And then he smiles. “Thanks, Lu. That’s... really nice of you to say. I’m uh...” He clears his throat, scrubbing at his neck again. “I’m glad you came tonight.”
“I am, too.” Uneasy about the warmth thawing through me, I shake my head a little and brush past him, toward the last bookshelf, which he hasn’t shown me yet. “Now, what’s here? Saving the best for last?”
“It’s my non-romance section,” he explains, standing behind me.
“So, the best for last.”
He gives me a playful glare. “Be nice.”
I glance up at him over my shoulder and shrug. “I can’t betoonice. Apparently, it raises suspicion.”
He sighs, shaking his head, and redirects his attention to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. “These are handpicked selections that, while not romance novels, still lean into the hope of a happy ending.”