Not enough, she thought.
“I can change that. I can give him to you. I could give you a great many things. Success?”
The shop was full of people. The shelves were filled with books. The pretty tables were crowded with customers sipping tea, having conversations. She saw a little boy sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner with a copy of Where the Wild Things Are open in his lap.
Everything about the scene spoke of pleasure—the combination of relaxation and brisk business.
The walls were exactly the right shade, she thought. Malory had been on the money there. The light was good, made everything friendly, and all those wonderful books temptingly arranged, on shelves, on displays.
She wandered like a ghost, passing through the bodies of people who browsed or bought, who sat or stood. She saw familiar faces, the faces of strangers, heard the voices, smelled the scents.
Attractive and intriguing sidelines were set up here and there. Yes, yes, those were the note cards shed decided to carry. And the bookmarks, the bookends. Wasnt that the perfect reading chair? Roomy, broken in, welcoming.
It was very clever to use the kitchen as the hub of the three enterprises, with books, candles, lotions, and art a
ll together to illustrate how nicely each complemented the others.
It was her vision, she realized. Everything she was hoping for. “Youll enjoy it, of course, but it wont be enough.”
She turned. He was there. It didnt surprise her in the least to see Kane standing beside her as people moved around them, through them.
Who were the ghosts? she wondered distantly.
He was dark and handsome, almost romantically so. The black hair framed a strong and compelling face. His eyes smiled into hers, but even now she could see something frightening lurking behind them.
“Why wont it be enough?”
“What will you do at the end of the day? Sit alone with only your books for company? Alone when everyone else gathers with their families? Will any of them give you a single thought after they walk out the door?”
“I have friends. I have family.”
“Your brother has a woman, and the woman has him. Youre not part of that, are you? The other has a son, and youll never be inside what they have. Theyll leave you, as everyone else has done.”
His words were like darts in the heart, and as she bled from them she saw him smile again. Almost kindly.
“I can make him stay.” He spoke gently now, as one did to the wounded. “I can make him pay for what he did to you, for his carelessness, for his refusal to know what you needed from him. Wouldnt you like him to love you as he has loved no other? Then, at your whim, you can keep him or discard him?”
She was in a room she didnt recognize, yet somehow knew . A large bedroom, saturated with color. Deep blue walls, an enormous bed covered in a ruby comforter, mounded with jewel-toned pillows. There was a generous sitting area, with two wing chairs facing a snapping fire. It was here that she sat, with Jordan kneeling at her feet. Her hands were clutched in his.
And his trembled.
“I love you, Dana. I never knew I could feel like this, as if theres no point in taking the next breath unless youre with me.”
It was wrong. Wrong. His face never looked weak and pleading. “Stop it.”
“You have to listen.” His voice urgent, he buried his head in her lap. “You have to give me a chance to show you, to prove to you how much I love you. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you. Nothing Ive done, nothing Ive touched since has meant anything. Ill do anything you want.” He lifted his head and with some horror, she caught the gleam of tears in his eyes. “Be anything you want. If youll only forgive me, let me spend every minute of every day for the rest of my life worshiping you.”
“Get the hell away from me!” Shocked, panicked, she shoved at Jordan, knocking him back as she scrambled to her feet.
“Kick me. Beat me. I deserve it. Just let me stay with you.”
“Do you think this is what I want?” She shouted it as she spun in a circle. “Do you think you can control me by making pictures out of my thoughts? You dont understand what I want, and thats why Ill beat you. No deal, asshole. And this is not only a lie, its pathetic.”
The fury in her voice echoed even when she found herself standing in the empty room with the paint roller on the floor at her feet.
Scrawled on the white wall in oily black was the message:
Drown thyself!