“Mmm, lox,” Josie says, reaching for a well-toasted sesame bagel. “I’m not religious, but my taste buds are very Jewish.”

“And how do you like your eggs?” I ask, looking over the bounty: scrambled, fried, poached, and omelet style.

Josie winces. “I don’t,” she admits. “I’m sorry—but the bagel is perfect. I never eat much when I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” I ask cautiously.

“Of course. I mean, I feel good about our plan, but I don’t trust Xander.”

My stomach clenches; she’s voicing the very thing I’ve been afraid of. Josie’s plan is brilliant, and the presentation we’ve prepared is bulletproof—but logic and common sense don’t matter when you’re dealing with a money-hungry, manipulative piece of shit like Xander.

“If he doesn’t…” Josie shakes her head. “I don’t have any other job prospects.”

“Any bookstore would be lucky to have you,” I say, feeling a pang of guilt that I do have another job prospect, even if it’s one I don’t want. My heart is here, with Josie and our store, and I’ve made that very clear to Gretchen. Which hasn’t stopped them from spending the last month trying to change my mind.

“I don’t know,” Josie says. “It’s not easy to find a manager position at an indie bookstore. I might have to look in other cities, and I’d hate to leave Georgia. It feels like everything is on the line.”

“Everything,” I agree, wondering if she’s including our relationship in her equation. “So, let’s focus everything we’ve got on this meeting. We can’t control the outcome, but we can give it our best shot. Right?”

The spark is back in Josie’s eyes, and I smile. If we’ve got a chance, it will be because of that fiery spirit. The thing that drove me crazy, then made me crazy for her.

—

An hour later, we’re heading into work. After we grab our coffee at Beans, I make my way to the Happy Endings side of the store. There are a million things I could be doing, but I’m too anxious to do anything but pace.

“Morning, boss,” Cinderella says, startling me. I didn’t see her, curled up on her favorite reading couch. Her hair is platinum blonde today—one of the most ordinary colors I’ve ever seen on her. Between that and her bright blue eyes, she looks like an older, more exaggerated version of the character she named herself after.

“Aren’t you fresh off the pages of a storybook,” I say.

She blushes and runs her hand through her hair. “A new look for the new store.”

“Hey, guys!” Eliza walks up to us.

I glance at my watch. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?”

Eliza shrugs. “I wanted to come wish you luck.”