On stage, Mrs. W. was addressing the crowd again. “I hope everyone has enjoyed their stay at Notting Hill this week. I appreciate you being here. After this next act, there’ll be a brief intermission. But stick around for our last performance, because I promise it’s going to be magical!”

“Ugh,” Luke groaned. “I didn’t know we were the grand finale.”

Penelope shushed him. As the polite clapping signaling the end of the current act began to fade, she fiddled with a panel of switches. The lights on the stage dimmed. “You’ve got five minutes to set up,” she ordered. “Go!” she barked, sliding the curtain aside and waving them out.

Luke glanced at Julia and she followed him, helping lift the little table of props and carry it down the aisle and onto the stage. He almost tripped on the cape a few times, and it was a damn good thing he was so tall, otherwise he would have fallen on his ass or face for sure.

They’d barely managed to get the tablecloth settled into place when Mrs. W. hustled over, pet parade in tow. “I’m excited to see you in action.”

“Don’t expect too much,” he warned, suddenly apprehensive under his boss’s avid scrutiny. Luke maneuvered his cape around the corgi obstacle course and handed Julia a deck of cards, then focused on laying out the rest of the props.

“Always so modest.” His boss chuckled and turned to Julia. “I have this man to thank for bringing the magic of rom-coms to my resort.”

Julia glanced between Luke and Mrs. W., confusion knitting her brow. “Because of his sister?”

“Penelope has been a godsend, no question.” Mrs. W. patted Luke on the shoulder. “But he’s the brains that made everything work.”

Beside him, Julia stilled. Luke’s heart leaped into his throat.

“I see.” She was staring at him now, hazel eyes frosty as the woods on a winter morning.

“Listen to me, chattering away,” Mrs. W. tittered. “Intermission is almost over, I better let you two finish setting up.” Oblivious to the bomb she’d just dropped, his boss herded her squad of corgis to a row of cushions lined up in the front of the audience.

“Julia, I can explain,” Luke began, his hushed voice vibrating with urgency.

Spine straight, her entire body stiff and cold as a mannequin, she refused to look at him. “Better make it fast,” she bit out, mouth barely moving, wooden smile frozen in place like some creepy ventriloquist’s dummy.

He glanced at the crowd as they began to return to their seats. What could he say? “None of this was planned … not at first.”

Mrs. W. finished settling her brood and held up a finger.