Jane hesitated before she opened the door. Not only to calm herself down after that fight with Annie, but also to steel herself—as best she could—before facing Kristin. Kristin, who now knew how her wife felt about her.

Kristin looked up when Jane walked in. She did a pretty good job of hiding the surprise on her face.

“You’ll have to make do with me for the rest of the day,” Jane said.

“Of course,” Kristin said, the sound of her clipped, measured voice already getting under Jane’s skin. She’d never had anything against Kristin. In fact, she quite liked her and had always enjoyed her company. But things were different now. At this very moment, Jane’s wife desired this woman more than her. When she slipped into their marital bed at night, Annie probably wished she was gluing her naked skin to Kristin’s instead of Jane’s. And when they kissed and closed their eyes, Annie was surely dreaming of Kristin’s lips against hers.

The first hour Jane was in the shop, a flurry of customers kept her mind occupied, although a sharp stab of jealousy pricked her every time she looked over at Kristin. What did she have that Jane didn’t? A more exotic skin color, yes—Jane was always pale. Hair that stayed in its intended shape no matter what, as opposed to Jane’s wispy, almost-but-not-quite-ginger hair. Effortless elegance. Vast amounts of understanding when people confessed to have crushes on her.

As time ticked by, Jane got more and more agitated. But she’d had no choice other than to do this. It would have been worse had she stayed upstairs while Annie was working down here.

They’d both been so busy, they’d barely talked. At least the book shop was doing well out of this deal. With the way her writing was going, Jane could hardly wish they’d never taken Mia and Kristin up on their offer of saving the shop. This uptick in business was a great relief to Jane every time she allowed herself to think about her abandoned manuscript. Not that she’d go bankrupt any time soon, but it was the principle of it.

Still, as she glanced around the shop, it all felt a bit like a poisoned chalice. Because saving the shop was not worth the destruction of their marriage.

For the first time ever, Jane allowed herself to wonder if it wouldn’t have been better to let the shop be bought by Pages, even though this would probably have meant Annie’s retirement—and neither one of them believed in retirement. In postponing life’s pleasures until you were sixty-five. This book shop was Annie’s greatest pleasure already. Most likely, having to hand it over to Pages, would have destroyed a vital part of Annie’s soul.