I have to tell her. I’m going to tell her. Right now. If she knew what I know, then maybe she wouldn’t have said that she doesn’t want to know. It’ll be easier to explain and ask forgiveness for that than it will if I keep on not telling her. Lying to her.

It’s time. I take a deep breath and—

“Excuse me?” It’s a customer, walking over from Josie’s side of the store.

Immediately, Josie turns on her polished smile. “Hi there. How can I help you?”

Then she’s gone, and I’ve lost my chance.

—

Twenty minutes later, I’m ringing up a customer when my phone chimes.

BookshopGirl: Hey, just wanted to let you know that everything is good now. My sister and my mom got home safely earlier today.

Exhaling, I head over to a chair and sit. She must be done with her customer. But instead of coming over to talk to me again, she’s retreating into the safety of this online world.

RJ.Reads: I’m glad to hear that. It must be such a relief!

BookshopGirl: Yeah.

RJ.Reads: You don’t seem super relieved though…?

BookshopGirl: I am. Really. It’s just that Georgia keeps saying I need to talk to Mom, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to reach out because what’s the point? My mom is never going to change. And then I start berating myself, because why can’t I do something as simple as call my own mother?

RJ.Reads: Probably because she never took care of you or your sister the way you both deserved.

She deserves someone who puts her first—this I know for sure.

BookshopGirl: I know, and maybe that’s ruined me. She broke my trust so many times that maybe I’ll never trust anyone. Maybe I’ll never be able to open myself up to anyone, not really.

RJ.Reads: You’ve opened up to me.

BookshopGirl: Because it’s anonymous. If you were standing right in front of me, I couldn’t. You’ve been so patient with me after I said I didn’t want to meet in real life, and I keep wondering what is wrong with me because I’m just so terrified.

My heart pounds, and I fight the urge to walk over to her side of the store and find her so we can have this conversation face-to-face.

RJ.Reads: Terrified of what?

BookshopGirl: Of meeting you and being a disappointment.

RJ.Reads: You wouldn’t be. I know that for a fact.

BookshopGirl: How do you know?

This is my chance, the moment of truth. My heart lodges in my throat and I’m about to type it right in the box—Because I know you, Josie—when a new reply arrives.