Now there’s my BookshopGirl. No doubt about it.

—

In the bathroom, I grip the edges of the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is wild, my eyes even more so—I look like a guy whose brain has been thoroughly scrambled.

I started this trip hoping to figure out which side of Josie was real, and now I have my answer: Josie may be icy on the outside, but she’s a warm ball of softness on the inside. What still isn’t clear is what I do now. Specifically, how do I tell her what I know? And when? We’ll be in the car for two hours together this morning heading back to Boston.

But for some reason, my gut is telling me not yet.

I will tell her—I just need to figure out the best way to do it, a way that doesn’t make her feel ambushed or cornered. She just started barely not-hating me; I need to find a way to bridge the gap between the man she thought was her enemy and the guy she knows behind the screen.

Which leaves one more question. What am I hoping for? Assuming Josie finds out and she doesn’t hate me again…what do I want to happen between us?

BOOKFRIENDS