Chapter 28
28
Ryan
Holding Josie Klein’s hand is my new favorite thing to do. And kissing her. Being on top of her, beneath her, inside her, hearing the sharp little noises she makes when she’s about to come. Lying in bed afterward, talking or reading or talking about reading. Everything with Josie is my favorite. She’s my favorite.
I spent so much time worrying she’d be furious and never want to see me, Ryan, or talk to me, RJ, again, that I didn’t think about how good it could be. How good we could be.
Based on this last week, we could be great.
Saturday: I woke to the sound of Josie’s sleepy sigh. Pure bliss. Then I got to live out my fantasy of leisurely morning sex, which was even better than I imagined, followed by room service, which was not as good as I expected. Turns out avocado toast really is just avocado and toast.
Later, we went around the conference together, meeting reps at new-to-us imprints and talking up our vision for the new store. Every few minutes, I’d look over at Josie, and she’d blush, which would make me grin. By the time the conference ended, we were both ready to run back to our room and spend more time together (naked).
Sunday: (After another round of sweet and slow morning sex) we played tourist and walked down to Fanueil Hall. We took our time reading every quote on the glass columns at the Holocaust Memorial, then went to the North End and did a taste test between the cannoli at Modern and Mike’s. (Mike’s won.) From there, we Ubered back to her place and had every intention of going our separate ways, but our goodbye kiss got so heated that Josie dragged me upstairs and had her way with me. Which I didn’t mind at all.
Monday: We tried to act like everything was normal, but Cinderella knew as soon as she saw the smile on my face. It didn’t take long for everyone else to figure it out, too. After we closed the stores, I took Josie out on a proper dinner date.
Tuesday: I woke up in Josie’s bed, which is as soft and lovely as she is. It’s a queen, which meant it was too small for me. But I’d take being squished with Josie over being alone in my king-size bed any day. We ate takeout Thai and stayed up most of the night, making love and making plans for our final meeting with Xander on Thursday.
Which brings us to Wednesday.
Today.
“Morning, lovebirds,” Eddie says as we walk in the door—one door for the entire store now.
Josie drops my hand. I miss the feel of her fingers, but I don’t take offense. I’ll be patient while Josie dips her toe in the water, getting used to the temperature. Damn it if my mom’s cheesy metaphor doesn’t make perfect sense.
“Things are looking good around here,” Josie says.
She’s right. Construction officially wrapped up this weekend while we were at the conference, but it took the crew a few days to load everything out.
“It’s so…quiet,” I say. “No more clanging or banging.”
“From here on out the only banging I want to hear about is between the two of you,” Eddie says.
Josie’s eyes go wide, and she turns, speed walking to her side of the store.
“Sorry.” Eddie shrugs. “She makes it too easy.”
“White mocha frappe with extra whip for you,” Mabel says, handing me my drink. “And an Americano for your lady.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the drinks. The store isn’t the only thing that’s changed in the last three months. It feels like a lifetime ago that Mabel was mixing up our drink orders. Back when Josie thought my name was Brian.
When I bring Josie her coffee, she isn’t alone. Georgia’s there, leaning on her bedazzled cane with both hands. Her head perks up as Josie’s falls. From our conversations, I know Josie’s been dreading this introduction as much as I’ve been looking forward to it.
“Georgia,” I say, extending my hand. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”
“He really is shockingly tall,” Georgia says, as if I’m not standing right there.
Her mouth curves into an open smile that lights up her face, reminding me of Josie—except it took me weeks to coax that kind of smile out of her sister.
“Nice, firm handshake,” she says, making eyes at Josie. “So tell me, Ryan-slash-RJ, what are your intentions with my sister?”
I choke on my frappe.
“Okay, I’m out,” Josie says. “Georgia, take it easy on him, please?”
“Yes, dear sister,” Georgia says, smiling sweetly.
But as soon as Josie disappears into the back room, Georgia turns back to me, her expression dead serious. “Listen,” she says, “I’ve never seen my sister this happy with anyone in her life.”
I give a tentative smile. “Thanks, that’s really—”
“It’s not a compliment, it’s a warning,” she says, and I shut my mouth. “Josie has spent her life sacrificing her own wants and needs for other people—especially me, and I can never repay her.” Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat. “She’s busted her ass to get where she is, and I’d hate to see her get screwed over by some guy who’s riding on the coattails of her brilliance and hard work.”
All the blood drains from my face. It’s like she’s speaking my fear aloud: that Josie doesn’t need my help to run this bookstore. Georgia’s right. Josie has worked her way up to her position against all odds, while I lucked into mine. Most of the time, I can barely keep my own staff in line.
“I would never do that to her,” I say. “I adore your sister, Georgia. She’s the most—”
“I know,” Georgia cuts in. “And she deserves someone who will put her first, for once. Do you understand?”
“Of course,” I say, nodding for emphasis.
“You better mean that,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “My sister deserves to have every single thing she wants. And apparently, right now, that includes you.”
I blow out a breath, grateful that Josie’s sister—the person who knows her better than anyone else—sees it, too. “I won’t let either of you down,” I promise.
—
The next morning, I wake in Josie’s bed, feeling like there’s a dark cloud hovering above me. I barely slept last night. And not in the fun, staying-up-and-having-sex-and-deep-conversations way. No, I was up in the anxious, tossing-and-turning, going-over-all-our-plans, thinking-and-rethinking-every-single-thing way.
Josie seems to be feeling optimistic, and I’m doing my best to pretend I am, too.
“I can hear you thinking,” she says. Her head is on my chest, and she looks almost ethereal in the early morning light.
“Oh yeah?” I say, trailing a finger down her arm. “What am I thinking about?”
“Peanut butter.”
I don’t know what makes me laugh harder—the contemplative tone of her voice or the words themselves. “I wasn’t, but I am now,” I say, remembering around three a.m., when my sweet tooth got the best of me. I wandered, naked, into Josie’s kitchen and was disappointed to find her pantry nearly empty. The only thing she had that came close to satisfying my craving was a jar of peanut butter. So I introduced her to one of my favorite childhood delicacies: a peanut butter lollipop—a.k.a. a spoon dipped in peanut butter.
It hit the spot, and so did the sex we had afterward on her kitchen counter.
“Want me to get the jar?” she asks.
“I thought you said no eating in bed? Besides, I want to make you breakfast. A real breakfast—not that instant oatmeal crap.”
“Oats are nutritious,” she says. “They’re rich in fiber—”
“—and they taste like cardboard. Let me cook for you.”
“Fine.” Josie sighs, but she looks pleased. “I suppose it’s not every day a tall, naked man offers to cook you breakfast.”
“It could be,” I accidentally say out loud.
In a pathetic attempt to distract her from my lovestruck blunder, I kiss her on the nose and pop out of bed. I’m trying not to be all the way in until I know Josie knows, too, but it’s hard when she’s literally everything I’ve been looking for.
It’s unsettling, knowing none of what happens next is up to me. Whether or not she becomes my business partner is up to Xander, and the rest is up to Josie.
One thing at a time, I remind myself, as I run down to the corner store to grab a few ingredients. How can I love a woman who doesn’t have butter in her fridge?
Thirty minutes later, Josie emerges from her bedroom, smelling like gardenias, her hair wet from the shower. “Wow, you went all out,” she says, surveying the array of dishes.
“I forgot to ask how you like your eggs, so I made them all the ways.” I place the last plate on the table. “I’ve got sweet and savory bagels, too, with butter, jelly, cream cheese, and lox. Sorry, the bagels got a little burned.”
“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.”
“We all did.” I turn to see Indira and Nora, who worked her weekly shift yesterday, and my eyes well up with tears. “You guys, I…This is…Thank you for being here.”
“We couldn’t let you cross the finish line alone. What time is your meeting?” Indira asks.
“In about five minutes,” I say, blowing out a nervous breath.
“No matter what happens with Xander,” Cinderella says, “we want you to know how proud we are of you and how hard you’ve fought.”
“Working here has kept me young,” Nora says.
“And hot,” Eliza adds, bumping her shoulder against Nora’s.
“You didn’t just give me a job,” Cinderella says, getting choked up. “You gave me a home, a safe space when I needed it.”
Indira puts her arm around Cinderella’s shoulder, and Eliza steps in on her other side. We all move together in an awkward group hug that I wish didn’t feel so much like goodbye. Because no matter what happens, everything is going to change.
The alarm on my phone chimes, and my stomach clenches.
Cinderella offers me a sad smile. “Go give ’im hell, boss.”
—
Xander is ten minutes late. He walks in, looking out of place in a white linen suit. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s hopping a jet for a private party on a yacht in Bimini after this meeting.
“Lawson. Josie,” he says, approaching our table in the newly remodeled café.
“Xander, good to see you.” I stand and shake his hand, filling my voice with false cheer.
Josie remains seated in a counter–power move that I admire. More proof of her badassery.
“We’re going to have to make this short,” Xander says, grabbing the power back. “But I know you’re both eager to hear the results. And I’m happy to say both stores had impressive sales this quarter—”
“About that,” Josie says. “Ryan and I would like to make a counterproposal.”
Xander laughs, although he isn’t amused. “You don’t know my decision yet.”
Hades appears from wherever he’s been hiding and makes himself at home in Xander’s lap. I expect Xander to freak out—black cat, white suit—but instead, he starts to pet Hades. And my cat—the damn traitor!—starts to purr, tilting his head back in an invitation for Xander to stroke the fur between his ears.
Without hesitation, Josie launches into the speech we prepared, explaining how our numbers went from good to great because we started working together; that the combination of our strengths surpassed anything we could do alone.
Then it’s my turn: “That sharp increase you noticed in my sales over the last month—that’s because of Josie. She had incredible ideas for maximizing Happy Endings’ efficiency, from our organizational structure to our strategy for placing orders. It’s been a game changer.”
“And Ryan has a knack for bringing people together and creating spaces where they want to stay and spend their money.” Josie takes the spreadsheet we prepared and slides it across the table to Xander. “The numbers speak for themselves. If Ryan and I manage the new store together, you’ll get the best of us both and the profit margin will more than make up for any additional overhead.”
Xander takes the piece of paper in one hand, continuing to pet Hades with the other. The silence is torture, and I slip my hand under the table and give Josie’s leg a comforting squeeze. She places her hand on top of mine and links our fingers while we wait for the verdict.
Finally, Xander sets the paper down and narrows his eyes, studying us. Josie unclasps our hands and brings hers above the table, folding them in front of her.
She breaks the silence: “What do you think?”
“I think,” Xander says, “that it was incredibly stupid of you to give up your competitive advantage.”
“Stupid?” Josie repeats. There’s a laugh in her voice, but I know it’s covering hurt.
“Idiotic,” Xander says, directing that venomous word toward her. My hands clench into fists under the table. “Honestly, Josie, I thought you were smarter than that. Helping the person you’re competing against? The person you could’ve beat with your hands tied behind your back?”
His words sting—and not only because he’s berating the woman I love. It’s my worst fear coming true: that I’m not good enough, that I’ve ridden Josie’s coattails like Georgia suggested.
“You were ahead all summer,” Xander says to Josie. “Until the past few weeks, when Ryan pulled ahead—because of you, apparently.” He shakes his head and makes a tsk ing noise. “I thought you wanted this job.”
“I did…I do,” Josie says. Her voice wavers, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to lunge across the table at Xander.
“Such a shame.” His sinister smile pushes me over the edge.
“The only shame is you, missing the point,” I snap.
“Am I?” Xander turns to address me now. “Interesting, since I was about to give you a compliment—this is the smartest thing I’ve seen you do since I bought your silly little bookstore. Befriending the competition, playing nice so you could steal her business plans? Very sly.”
“He didn’t steal anything,” Josie says, her voice sharp.
“We worked together,” I tell him. “We make a good team. And if you hire me, I’ll just hire Josie as my co-manager—”
“No, you won’t.” Xander’s eyes narrow. “I’m underwater because of this renovation—I’m putting you on a hiring freeze. The whole point of this competition was to eliminate one of your salaries, not this kumbaya bullshit.”
“This really is just a game to you,” Josie says, more to herself than to Xander.
“Business is a game, sweetheart,” Xander says. “And you just lost. As for you”—he moves his gaze toward me—“I suppose that makes you…‘the winner’ seems like a stretch, but here we are. Congratulations, Lawson, you’re the new manager.”
Josie won’t look at me, but I can’t tear my eyes away from her—this complicated, beautiful, smart, passionate woman. Even at my best, I know I’m not good enough for her or this store. And I intend to keep the promise I made her sister: to put her first.
Fueled by fury and justice and yes, love, I stand and look down at Xander. A glimmer of fear crosses his face, and for once, I’m grateful for my size.
“I don’t care if your dick is small, or your mother never loved you, or whatever wound you’re trying to heal,” I say, “there is no excuse for this bullshit.”
I keep my eyes trained on Xander, who’s scowling. If I look at Josie, I might break. And I can’t—because it’s about damn time someone stood up for her. She’s going to get her dream, even if it means I have to lose mine.
“If I didn’t care so much about this fucking bookstore, I’d say we should both walk out and leave you scrambling. But this store, our staff, our customers, our community—they matter more than anyone’s ego, yours or mine. And there’s only one person who should be running this place.”
Xander’s face is beet red; he looks like the devil he is. But I’m not done yet.
“In case it’s not clear, I quit. The job should be Josie’s.” I risk a glance down to see her looking up at me with a dazed expression I can’t read. “The job should be yours.”
And with that, I walk out the front door with my heart broken but my head held high.