Ryan’s staff comes over, and Eddie joins us from behind the counter, bringing Mabel. Xander gives them all a bland smile. “I’d like to introduce your new manager. Josie Klein.”

Cinderella’s eyes spark with alarm. “What? Where’s Ryan?”

Xander shrugs. “He quit.”

“Why would he do that?” Nora gasps.

Another shrug from Xander, more impatient now. “If you have questions, direct them to Josie, and she’ll contact me if needed.” He emphasizes the last two words. Then he faces the staff again. “Thanks for all your, uh, hard work. Let’s make some money, okay?”

On that uninspiring note, he heads out.

I’m immediately mobbed by the Happy Endings staff, asking why Ryan left.

“I’m calling him,” I say, pulling out my phone. No answer, so I leave a voicemail and text him to call me. As soon as I hit send, Eddie tells me that Mabel is starting cosmetology school soon and will be cutting her hours, so he’ll need to hire another barista. Also, he needs a new espresso machine.

“Order what you need, but be mindful of the cost, okay?” I tell him. “And can you draft a job description for me to review?”

“Sure thing.”

Then the door chimes, and in comes the contractor. He says there’s an issue with the lighting and he’s going to get the electrician back in here tomorrow to fix it.

“Sure, okay,” I tell him.

The rest of the day rushes by in a whirlwind of responsibilities, but underneath it all, worry gnaws at me—and guilt, too. This is all my fault. My plan failed, I couldn’t convince Xander, and now Ryan’s out of a job. Is he angry? Does he blame me? What does this mean for us? I try calling again, texting—nothing. I even send him a DM on BookFriends, but the silence stretches on, making the knot in my stomach twist tighter.

Finally, as I’m locking up the store, my phone pings with a text. From Ryan.

Hey, sorry for disappearing on you. Just needed some time to clear my head and figure a few things out. Want to come over?

All the tension of the day rushes out of my body. He’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is going to be fine.

I reply:

Sounds great. I’m leaving the store now. Send me your address?

He does, and I take a bus toward Charlestown. When I reach his building, he buzzes me in, and I race up the stairs to his apartment. The door opens before I can knock, and there he is, all big and broad and sturdy, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, his hair adorably messy. I launch myself into his arms, breathing in his familiar scent. Tears well up in my eyes and soon I’m sniffing, trying to hold myself back from crying.