“Neither do I. Which is my point. The new store is going to have everything. Think about it: thrillers and baby board books and how-to books. And a good manager knows the products they sell.”

“I’m stressed out just thinking about it,” he says. “But I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying we should convince Xander that he needs two managers.”

He stares at me for so long I start to get nervous. Our waiter stops by again, bringing us a plate of lemon meringue tart, which I promptly start devouring.

“What are you thinking?” I ask Ryan. He’s being mighty quiet.

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m thinking that Xander’s priority is making money.”

“Yeah, and he’s delusional—no one gets rich owning an indie bookstore. But—here, take a look at this.”

I grab a napkin and pen and start doing rough calculations. “If Xander keeps only one of us as manager, the store will be woefully understaffed. You can’t sell books without booksellers, so sales will take a hit—and the new store will have more overhead expenses. Xander could end up in the red. I estimate that the new manager will have to hire more staff—two, maybe even three people to compensate for the loss of one of us, since they won’t have the experience we do.

“So it would be in Xander’s best interests to keep us both,” I finish. “We just have to prove it to him over the next six weeks.”

“How?”

“We’ll have to significantly increase our profits—by a lot, so he can’t ignore that we make more money when working together. We can brainstorm ways to do that. I already have a few ideas, but first, I wanted to see if this is something you’re even interested in.”

There’s an unexpectedly guarded expression on Ryan’s face. And I find myself leaning forward again, hoping he says yes.

“Can I think about it?” he asks.

I sit back, disappointed. Maybe I’ve been reading him wrong. Just because he took me to one of the most bookishly charming places I’ve ever seen doesn’t mean he wants to work with me.

“Of course,” I say. “Just let me know.”

—

When we finish our food and drinks, Ryan tries to take the check, but I badger him into splitting it. We head out of the lounge, and I notice a sign for Bates Hall.

“Do you think it’s still open?” I ask, nodding in that direction.

He glances at his phone. “We have a few minutes. Do you…want to go in?”

I hesitate; being here, so close to this place I loved all those years ago, has made me realize I’ve spent too much time avoiding anything that reminds me of my college experience. I want to push myself.

“Could we?” I say. “Just for a minute?”