by Harper Bliss
Two Hearts Together
Two Hearts Trilogy - Book Two
Harper Bliss
Contents
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1. Zoe
2. Anna
3. Zoe
4. Anna
5. Zoe
6. Anna
7. Zoe
8. Anna
9. Zoe
10. Anna
11. Zoe
12. Anna
13. Zoe
14. Anna
15. Zoe
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Warning
This book is not a standalone. In order to get the most out of it, you need to have read part one of the trilogy, Two Hearts Alone.
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1
Zoe
I can’t help myself. I leave a few bright-red candles in the window display. Not for the benefit of anyone who might have forgotten Valentine’s Day and wants to surprise their loved one a few days too late, but for my own pleasure. And perhaps also to rile up Anna a bit. I grin at my reflection in the window while I think of her. Every time I do, and I do so often, my mind wanders to the stack of books that arrived this morning. Five copies of The Complete Guide To Autism Spectrum Disorder In Women.
When I found myself alone in the store, I started reading immediately, even though just glancing over the table of contents made my head spin. Terms I’ve never heard of like time agnosia, alexithymia, and demand avoidance wouldn’t usually draw me into a book, but I want to know more about Anna, so my interest is piqued regardless. It’s not a book I will read in a matter of days—it’s a bit too dry for that, despite my special interest in the subject—and I have a store to run.
I never expected the Tuesday after Valentine’s Day to be very busy, and it’s not, but I have already sold two of the wrapped blind-dates-with-a-book that I put on display only this morning to replace most of the Valentine’s Day stock. Maybe Anna was onto something with that idea.
I watch the wall clock above the counter, which I’ve noticed myself doing much more since the previous weekend—since Anna and I kissed. She should have set off on her daily walk by now, which means she and Hemingway will walk past the store in a few minutes—and hopefully come in.
But it’s not Anna who opens the door next. It’s a man I vaguely recognize from Bookends’ opening party, but whose name, for the life of me, I can’t recall.
“How can I help you?” I put on my best smile.
“Hi, Zoe. Can I call you Zoe?” He runs a hand through what’s left of his hair.
“Of course. It’s my name.”
“Hi, I’m Tom Granger. I just ran into my buddy Joe, who bought a book date or something?”
“Blind-dates-with-a-book. Yes.” I nod, remembering Joe from earlier today.
“It made me think…” He shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet. “About going on an actual date, albeit not a blind one.”
“Is that so?” I keep a neutral expression on my face as snippets of memory of the previous interaction I had with this man come back to me. The memories aren’t overly pleasant.
“Yeah.” He beams me a smile. “What do you think, Zoe? You and me? A few drinks at Lenny’s?”
“It’s very kind of you to ask, Tom.” I make my way behind the counter. “But I’m not looking to date.”
“Oh. But you’re a single mom, right?”
As if this fact would automatically make me want to go on a date. “I am, but… I’m a lesbian. I don’t date men. Never have. Never will.” Sometimes, you just really need to spell it out and Tom Granger looks like someone who needs the reason for him being rejected thoroughly explained to him.
“What? You?” He shakes his head. “No.” He follows up with an even more vigorous shake of the head. “No, I don’t buy that.”
“That’s very offensive, actually.” I haven’t been in retail for that long and I do hope I can keep my cool, because Tom is starting to get on my nerves. Then again, Anna’s mother had the exact same initial reaction when I told her. Maybe this reaction will be fairly universal in a town like this, where my appearance doesn’t fit in with the general idea of a lesbian.
He taps a fingertip to his chin. “Are you an L Word lesbian? Because, frankly, I never believed those really existed.”
“Look, Tom, I’m not going on a date with you.” I ignore his stupid comment because it’s not deserving of a reply.
Just then, the door opens, and this time, it is Anna who walks in, Hemingway hot on her heels.
“Oh, hi Anna,” Tom says, as though he hasn’t just made the biggest ass of himself in front of me.
“Tom.” Anna gives him a curt nod.
“Tom was just leaving,” I say, to make sure he’s catching my drift. I have half a mind to walk up to Anna and kiss her fully on the lips in front of him, but I don’t want to use Anna in that way. Besides, seeing her, and her face that always has a slight hint of bemusement, I’ve already forgotten about Tom Granger’s inappropriate comments.
“Have a lovely day, ladies.” He manages a grin before turning around and walking out the door.
As soon as he’s gone, I roll my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Anna asks.
“We’ll talk about it later.” I hurry from behind the counter and drag her toward me. “Give me a proper hello first.”
Anna opens her arms wide and curls them around me. “Hello,” she whispers in my ear. “Is that proper enough?” She plants a kiss on the side of my neck.
“It will do. For now.” I kiss her right back. “I’ve missed you.” Hemingway gives a quick bark, as though he’s the one replying to what I just said. “What are you doing tonight?” I ask, as we step out of our embrace.
“Nothing in particular. Although I’ve been thinking about bringing over your painting. If you’re free.”
“I’m free.”
“I’ll bring it after closing time then.” Anna smiles at me.
“Want to stay for dinner?”
Anna hesitates, then wrings her hands together. “I would, but I don’t want to encroach on your time with your daughter.”
I nod my understanding. I guess I can see how that would be awkward. “How about I come over to yours after I’ve given Brooklyn all the mommy time she can stand. I’ll just take the painting home myself.”
Anna looks at my arms as though they’re not capable of carrying one of her paintings.
“You should see me haul boxes of books into here,” I say.
“I would love to see that, actually.” Anna hasn’t stopped smiling since Tom Granger left.
“If seeing my guns is what you’re after, it’ll be a while before it’s short-sleeve season.” I take a step closer to her again.
“Spring will be upon us before you know it.” Anna takes my hand in hers.
“I can’t wait for that snow to melt.” A shadow glides by the shop window and, as though by instinct, Anna takes a step back and drops my hand.
“I—I suppose we should go on another date,” Anna says.
“Are you asking me out?” I say coyly.
“Does you coming by tonight qualify as a date?”
“Sure.”
“We can’t be standing around in Bookends like this every day. People will start talking.” She says it with a grin on her face.
“Your mother will find
out in no time.”
Anna rolls her eyes. “Tonight, then.”
“Should I bring you leftovers?” I joke.
Anna shakes her head. “I can take care of myself perfectly.”
2
Anna
With a spring in my step, I walk from Bookends to Sean’s office. As I approach, my jauntiness fades, because I know that he will inevitably ask me about my date with Zoe. Miraculously, Jamie managed to keep his mouth shut at lunch on Sunday. He must have given Jaden a talking-to as well, because my nephew barely mentioned Brooklyn. All throughout lunch, however, I could sense that my mother was on to something. I can’t explain how I knew—maybe it was in a glance that lingered a bit too long, or in the twitch of her lips as she bit back a comment—but I did. The question will come sooner rather than later and because it’s not something I can control, it’s stressing me out already, before anything has even happened. So I consider practicing talking about Zoe to Sean. The fact that I’m not related to him should make it easier, yet I have my doubts.
Once he’s done showering Hemingway with affection, he pours us each a cup of coffee.
“Do you want to talk?” he asks.
“About?”
“Come on, Anna. It’s me. You know you can talk to me.”
The thing is that I can’t. Conversation has never been how I have expressed myself. I can do banter and I can crack the odd joke, but I can’t possibly put my feelings into words in front of another human, not even a friend. Sean should know this by now.
“There’s nothing to say.”
“You’re not going to give me even a little bit? A tiny sliver of dating goodness?” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“How was your Valentine’s Day?” I ask, changing the subject. “Did Cathy get you something?”
“Not a material gift.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Oh, Sean,” I groan.
He shakes his head and rummages in his desk drawer. “For you,” he says.
“What’s this?”
“You’re my best friend, so I wanted to give you something for Valentine’s Day.”
I roll my eyes. “You got me a Valentine’s gift?”
“Anyone else would just say thank you.” He sits there smirking.
“I’m not anyone else.” I shake my head in utter dismay.
“Tell me about it.” He just continues to sit there, inappropriately grinning at me. “Go on. Aren’t you going to open it?”
I tear at the wrapping. It reminds me of last Saturday, when Zoe gave me that unexpected gift. It seems to be the year for it. I recognize the white box with garish red hearts printed on it as one that lined the counter at Bookends when it first opened. At least he got me something from Zoe’s store. That does perk me up. Inside the box is an envelope. I open it and find a gift card for Bookends.
“A gift card?” I try not to sound too ungrateful.
“Yes, well, Zoe let me down, so that’s the best I could do.”
“What do you mean?”
“She offered to help me find you the perfect Valentine’s gift. Something that would rile you up. But in the end, she chickened out of helping me, for obvious reasons. So I went for the gift card, instead.” He shrugs. “Happy belated Valentine’s Day, my friend.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” I mumble.
“I should have thought of something better than a gift card, I know.” He narrows his eyes and regards me intently.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Zoe was extremely apologetic about letting me down. Then, she told me why.”
“Why?”
“Because she was too preoccupied getting you the perfect gift herself.”
“What?”
Sean widens his eyes. “Oh, damn. She didn’t give it to you?”
“She—she did. But I didn’t know she’d told you about it.”
“I think she likes you, Anna.”
“I can’t believe she told you. What else did you discuss about me?”
“Nothing. Come on. It was all well-intentioned.”
Zoe seems to be the opposite of discreet. “Oh, I’m sure you all meant well while you were talking about me behind my back.”
“Of course, we did.” He tilts his head. “And this to a guy who just gave you a present.”
“A Valentine’s Day present, Sean. You know how I feel about that.”
“Is this how you reacted when Zoe gave you her present?”
I can’t keep a small smile from widening my lips. “Of course not.”
“Is that because she’s a million times hotter than I am?”
I shrug. “You’re more of an acquired taste. I’m sure Cathy thinks you’re superhot,” I joke.
“I was just goofing around, Anna. In friendship. To show you that, you know, I appreciate you.”
“You don’t have to give me gifts to show me. I know you care.”
“But still.” He sips from his coffee.
“Have you… told Cathy about me going on a date with Zoe?”
“She’s my wife.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say on a sigh. “I just don’t want this to spread around town just yet. Yes, we like each other, and we had a good date, but that doesn’t mean anything. So much could still happen.”
“Hey, there could be worse things being said about you than that you’re dating Zoe from Bookends, believe me,” Sean says.
“I do believe you.”
“So the date was good?” Sean tries again.
I nod. How can I not?
“What did she get you?”
“Oh, she didn’t tell you that, did she?” I smirk at Sean.
He shakes his head.
“A signed copy of a book that means a lot to me,” I say, my heart warming as I speak.
“Hey, I’m happy for you, Anna.”
“She is really, really foxy.”
Sean chuckles. “No doubt.” He rests his gaze on me for a few seconds. “Do you have any business to discuss or is it all Valentine’s Day chatter with you today?”
3
Zoe
I stand in front of Anna’s bright red front door. It’s later than I would have wanted it to be. Being on my feet all day is very different than being stuck behind a desk for eight hours a day. On top of that, Brooklyn kept on chattering away about a Skype call she’d had with Eve. It wasn’t the kind of conversation I could easily walk away from. She’s made friends quickly and she might not dislike Donovan Grove too much, but she has just gone through a massive upheaval at a very tender age.
When Anna opens the door, her hair is pointing in all directions and she looks quite frazzled. She’s wearing a pair of pajamas.
“Did I wake you?” A large smile sneaks across my lips.
“It’s after ten.” She holds the door open. I detect a smidge of utterly adorable just-woken-up crankiness in her voice.
“I’m sorry.” I hurry inside, not just because it’s freezing cold outside, but because I can’t wait to be engulfed by the warmth of Anna’s home. “Brooklyn needed me. I know it’s late, but I wanted to see you.” I reach for her hand. The instant our skin touches, she pulls me close.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Anna embraces me and pushes her body against mine. I’m fairly certain she’s not wearing a bra.
“I’m glad you dressed up for me,” I joke.
“You can’t arrive at someone’s house after ten and expect them to be wearing a tux.”
I chuckle as I run a hand across her back. Definitely no bra.
In the living room, Hemingway’s spread all over a cushion on the floor.
“There’s not much life in him after ten,” Anna says.
“Did he have an exhausting day?” I ask.
“Every day’s a full-on party when you’re my dog,” Anna says. “Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head. “Let’s just sit.” She has prepared the painting for me to take home. It’s leaning against
the wall, covered in Bubble Wrap. She has also fashioned a handle with some rope around it so it’s easy for me to carry. “How was the rest of your day?” What I really want to ask is if I can kiss her, but I figure that if that’s what she also wants, she’ll make that clear to me in due course.
She rubs her palms on her pajama bottoms, giving me the impression that something’s bothering her. Or perhaps she’s having trouble articulating what she wants to say.
“I talked to Sean,” she says. “You told him you got me a Valentine’s Day present?”
I purse my lips. “That might have slipped out.” I try to look Anna in the eye. “I was supposed to help him find a funny present for you, but I got too caught up finding you a genuine gift myself.” I try a smile.
“I—I really don’t like it when everyone’s all up in my private business.”
“I thought he was your best friend.” Maybe Anna’s definition of a best friend is very different from mine.
Anna shrugs. “He’s my friend, but that doesn’t mean I want him to know everything about me.”
I wish I had asked for a glass of wine now. “Anna… Does Sean know about your diagnosis?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m just curious.”
She shakes her head. “Only my family knows. And Cynthia. And now you. And I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“But why wouldn’t you tell Sean?”
“Because… it’s not something that I want people to know about me. It’s my private business.”
“But Sean is not just ‘people’…”
“You may have had your Sex and the City girlfriend gang when you were living in New York, but that’s not something I relate to. I don’t tell my friends everything about myself. I have no need to share every tiny little thing that happens to me.”
