the illusion shattered, the spell broke. I wasn't with Seth, no matter how perfect the shape. I was with my friend the incubus.
"Change back," I whispered.
"What?"
"Change back to yourself."
He didn't ask why, and a moment later, I rested in Bastien's arms. It wasn't Seth, I realized with a dull and terrible emptiness, but it was the truth. We said no more after that, staying in bed together for the rest of the night. Sleep never came for me, however. I lay awake the whole time, staring off into the shadows.
CHAPTER 17
"Should I put up Lorelei Biljan's posters now? Or wait until after E. J. Putnam's gone?"
I looked up from the invoices on my desk. I'd just reread the same line of numbers about five times without comprehending any of it, and I was having only a little better luck parsing Tammi's question.
I rubbed my eyes. "Why...would we wait?"
She shrugged. "Dunno. Just seems kind of rude to be advertising one author during another one's signing."
My mind moved slowly, probably because only 5 percent of it was actually here at the bookstore. The rest of my brainpower attempted to muddle through the disaster that was my life.
"Um...no, it doesn't matter. Put them both up. They're only a week apart, and we want Biljan to get a fair shot at publicity too. Besides, I don't think authors really get worked up over competition like that. They're pretty low-key."
Tammi ran a hand through her short red hair. "I don't know. They're famous and artistic. Seems like that's a bad combination. Temperamental and stuff. Not all writers can be like Seth. In fact, I bet when he gets angry enough about something, he could really let someone have it."
"Anything else?" I asked, a sharp note of dismissal in my voice. "Otherwise, just put up all the posters, okay?"
She gave me a startled look and left the office. When the door closed, I put my head down on the desk and groaned. Tammi, in her blissful adolescent naпvete, had no idea how close to home she had hit. Like her, I too believed Seth could display a lot of anger if given enough cause.
Like, say, his girlfriend cheating on him.
True, Bastien had been right in saying Seth and I had loose definitions of "cheating," but even I knew what did and did not qualify. There was no gray area here. No mutability. I had fucked up hard-core.
I'd known it too, lying there in that unholy union with Bastien. After my sleepless night, I'd left him around dawn and took a cab back to Queen Anne, my body still aching. I hadn't wanted to talk to him. He'd slept so heavily, he hadn't heard me leave. No guilt weighed him down.
But me? My cup of guilt was runnething over. Not only that, I still had to make the next decision in this mess: to tell or not to tell? That was what had really bothered me all day at work. The past was over; I could only worry about it for so long. My attention now focused on how to proceed with the future.
Fortunately, Seth had worked from home today, which helped a little. He and I eventually had plans to meet up in the evening, but until that happened, I still had time to come up with something. Anything. Yet when I walked home at the end of my shift, I was no closer to an answer than I had been at the beginning of the day.
Miserable, I pulled up a chair at my kitchen table and sat down with pen and paper. Aubrey jumped up on the table's flat surface and lay down to watch me, half of her sprawling on the page. I slid her off and made the following list:
DONT TELL SETH
Pros: status quo resumes, he won't be upset
Cons: my own gnawing guilt, totally blowing the honesty thing
I considered the list for a moment, surprised that neither the pro nor con side had more items. It was just that simple. Moving farther down the paper, I wrote up the reciprocal list.
TELL SETH
Pros: right thing to do
Cons: admitting I'm an idiot, painfully emotional blowout, inevitable breakup, a literal eternity of heart-wrenching sorrow and regret
I held the pen and looked back and forth between both lists.
"This isn't really clearing things up, Aubrey." In an effort to relieve my frustration, I hurled the pen somewhere into my living room. She watched it sail off with interest and then darted off to confirm the kill.
"What do