Her gaze follows my direction and she frowns, stepping closer. “How so? Their designs seem abstract.”

“They are.” I pull one from the thin shelves. “And they’re something else.” I trace the hidden design. “This one, for example, they’re lovers. See, one’s lying down, arms back, while the other—”

“Oh,” she says quickly.

I glance up and notice that her lips are pursed, her expression a little shocked. “Sorry, if that’s too much, I can show you something else.”

“No,” she says quickly again, stepping closer, taking the card. “No, that’s the right idea. But perhaps . . .” She peers up the wall of shelves, spotting one of my favorite designs. “Is that a heart?”

“It is.”

She smiles. Her teeth are toothpaste-commercial white. They make me squint. “How perfect.”

“A heart is, of course, a classic symbol of love and—”

“No,” she says over me. Reaching it easily, she plucks the card from the shelf and stares at it. “Not that. I’m a heart surgeon. But what’s the lovers’ design? I can’t see it.”

“That’s not uncommon. Sometimes it’s a matter of perspective. Approaching the image from a different angle can reveal it.” I wait a moment, watching her grow irritated as she frowns at the card. “Do you want me to tell you?”

She sniffs, straightening. “Thank you, yes.”

I point to the way I drew the heart—its ventricles and chambers, the flow of oxygenated and deoxygenated blood, all shaped as richly detailed flowers. “Those flowers’ tone and shape,” I tell her, “if you let your eye follow it, you’ll see two people entwined together, in the position of mutual pleasure.”

Her eyes widen. “Ah. I see it now. Well. This certainly is something.”

“It is the Prurient Paper Collection.”

She stares at the card. “It is, isn’t it? It’s perfect. I’ll take it.”

“Right this way. I’ll ring you up.” I glance over my shoulder as she follows me and catch her critically examining me again. “Can I help you find anything else today?”

“No, thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for me to charge her, then place the card and envelope in a petite bag with a bow that will never be as good as Toni’s.

“Thank you again,” she says, stealing one more curious glance at me before she reaches into her coat pocket for her ringing phone.

“You’re welcome. Have a nice evening.”

She steps away from the counter and turns, eyes on her phone. That’s when it clicks. It’s her retreating form that I recognize.

That was Jamie’s ex-girlfriend.

—

Halfway to the apartment, I rush ahead of my friends with the excuse of needing to pee. I nearly face-plant twice, but I have to get home as quick as I can. I’m spiraling. I need answers.