Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I rub my ring finger, feeling a sense of acceptance I’ve grown accustomed to.
“I sold Berk a copy of Lulu Jenkin’s debut album the other day,” Astrid says as she motions toward me. “I have a feeling he’s here to tell me he’s a new fan.”
“Indeed I am.” I smile at her, ignoring the guy next to her.
They both approach where I’m standing near the front of the store.
“Joseph was lucky enough to sit front row at one of her concerts.” Astrid sighs. “I’d give anything to do that one day.”
The man next to her raises a hand in the air. “I’m Joseph, by the way.”
“Berk,” I offer.
I’m in and out of stores in Manhattan on a daily basis. I’ve never set foot in one where I know the names of my fellow customers.
Something tells me that Astrid makes everyone feel comfortable enough to share not only their names but also details about their lives that to any other shop owner would seem trivial.
“I’ll finish up with Joseph, and then I’m all yours, Berk.”
I perk a brow. “I’ll be waiting.”
I doubt she heard the bite of need in my tone, but it’s there, brewing beneath the surface.
Astrid might be willing to give anything for a front row seat at a concert, but I’d give anything for her undivided attention for an hour or two.
I want her to be all mine, at least for tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
Astrid
I lock the door to the store as soon as Joseph exits. Then I flip the sign that hangs on it from the ‘we’re open’ side to ‘sorry, we’re closed.’ It’s a mundane part of my nightly ritual, but one I remember with fondness when I used to watch my mom do it.
After she bought Vinyl Crush, I spent most of my winter break and half of my summer holidays in New York City with her. My dad had primary custody of me, but he always made sure that I’d get to spend Mother’s Day and my mom’s birthday by her side.
Whenever I was with her, I’d feel giddy when I’d see her close up the store. It meant I had her all to myself for the night. We spent a lot of that time talking about music.
School was my focus back home in Ohio, but when I was in Manhattan with my mom, I was swept into another world where I was allowed to eat ice cream for dinner and chocolate for breakfast. The sweet treats were welcomed, but the very best moments were when my mom would sneak me backstage at a club one of her old friends owned so that I could listen to live music.
My mom never sang at those shows, but she would always dance with me out of sight of everyone else.
I take a deep breath before I turn back around to face Berk.
My heart started racing when I saw him walk into the store. I’m not sure if he planned on arriving so close to closing time, but I don’t mind one bit.
“Do you have plans for tonight, Astrid?”
The question catches me off guard. My big plans were to go up to my apartment to heat up a frozen dinner. I was going to pair that with some sparkling water and a few episodes of a show Eloise has been raving about.
“I don’t,” I say. “Do you?”
A smile slides across his lips. “I don’t. I was hoping we could have a drink together.”
I don’t drink.
Well, I do… or, I have in the past.
I went through the stage of indulging in way too many tequila shots on too many Saturday nights when I was in college.
Since I’ve moved to Manhattan, I’ve treated myself to a glass of lemonade with a shot of gin on special occasions. The last time was months ago when Eloise and I went out for a drink to celebrate her new relationship. That ended the morning after our celebration before the buzz had worn off from all the martinis she had. She was dumped via a text message, so I spent that day helping her with her hangover and her broken heart.
“A drink?” I ask.
He nods. “I’d love to talk about those albums you sold me, and I could use a beer. It’s been a beast of a day.”
I’ve never been great at reading between the lines, especially when they’re coming from a man, but this sounds more like a ‘let’s hang out and talk music drink’ than an actual date.
I glance down at my jeans and T-shirt. “I should change.”
His gaze trails over me. “There are a few bars around here we can duck into. I promise none of them have a dress code.”
I nod. “I’m in. Let me grab my jacket and set the alarm. Then, I’m ready to go.”
Of course, I was carded before the server would take my order.