It’s the Second Story Books logo, but it has the word “kissing” in red handwriting font before the word “books” and a red kiss mark next to it. “Holy crap… Second StoryKissingBooks? This is brilliant.”
Reggie comes out of the store then with a small stack of mass-market paperback romances. He smiles at me. “What do you think of our romance pop-up, Sana?”
“It’s perfect.” I see stickers and bookmarks that say FIND YOUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER ON LOVE STREET. “I need one of these.”
Reggie hands me a bookmark, beaming. “And to think a few months ago I didn’t evencarrykissing books. Now look at us!” He shows me some more romance-themed bookmarks and stickers he ordered from small independent makers.
“You’ve totally outdone yourself,” I say. “How did you even decide what books to get? Don’t tell me you were lurking in the romance corner of TikTok?”
Reggie lets out a deep booming laugh. “Ah no, this is notmydoing. Miles has been working on it for some time.I believe hereadmost of the books before ordering them. I’m going to use this sign for the romance section after today. We’ll have to increase the kissing books section! I mean, this is Love Street, isn’t it?” He winks at me.
I can’t believe Miles did this. And hereadthe books too? I know he readPride and Prejudice, but he didn’t mention reading any other romances. We could have been talking about romance books all summer. I look again at the books on the table, and I realize that Miles’s touch is all over this selection. In addition to the book with the apartment building on it, I know several of these are set in Toronto. And there’s so much diversity. I smile as I pick up a slim book with a light blue cover. I know the book—it’s literally a romance between urban planners.
It’s not a big romantic gesture like a dancing flash mob or filling my apartment with red roses. Miles’s style is subtler. Quieter. More thoughtful. Just like Miles himself. I pick up another book, one I haven’t read, and look at the badass Asian woman wearing a tiger jacket on the cover.
“Why didn’t he tell me he was doing this?” I ask.
Reggie shrugs. “Perhaps he wanted to surprise you?”
It would have been an amazing surprise… if we were still together. If I walked down Love Street with Miles and unexpectedly saw this curated selection of kissing books out front and found out it was because ofhim, I would have kissed him senseless. It’s actually the perfect gift for me. I would have beendelightedwith his new secret softy side.
But… I think this softy side isn’t new. It was always there. I didn’t see it because I was too busy noticing all our differences. He wasalwaysa romantic. Asking me tomy prom when I was feeling sorry for myself wasromantic. Making me that Lego corsage wasincrediblyromantic. He always cared about people, and that’s what romance is about, caring about other people. He’s just a different kind of romantic than I am.
True, he called romance novels formulaic a couple of months ago, but he was judging them before ever reading one. When I called him out on that, he started reading romances and found ones that worked for him. That’s the biggest difference between us. When he realized he was wrong about something, he adapted his views. He was able to progress—something I wasn’t able to do. When I was shown all the reasons a neighborhood like Love Streethasto change to better serve the people who live and work here, I resisted the change. Even now, when Iknowall the reasons change is right for Love Street and know this developer isn’t out to destroy the Love Street I love, I’m still resistant. I’m still unwilling to be in a relationship with someone who works for them. I’m still rigid in not really accepting it. Because it messes up my worldview.
But I was wrong in many ways. I thought my parents didn’t really love each other because they didn’t have a cutesy, swoony romance. But theydidlove each other. They didn’t break up because their love was lacking… They broke up because they wanted different things out of life.
I believed there was only one way to love someone—with big gestures. Hearts, rainbows, meet-cutes, and grand gestures. Not quiet moments drinking tea or long streetcar rides through the city together. I didn’t believe that a quiet, thoughtful way of loving someone was as real.
I exhale. Idolove Miles. And it’s infinitely more real than I ever imagined it could be.
And heisromantic. I mean, hell, the fact that he submitted that picture from his prom proves it. It’s the cheesiest, romancey-est thing I’ve ever seen. He even wore a suit that matched his date—a freaking red jacket and bow tie, at that. Clearly there’s a bit of my brand of romance in him too.
I suddenly freeze. A red jacket… maybe a redvelvetjacket?
I remember what he told me about his prom night. He said it was a disaster. He also said they got takeout before heading to the banquet hall. Could it have been Chinese takeout? With fortune cookies? I touch the locket around my neck. He said hedonatedhis prom outfit. Would Miles pick a charity that provides prom clothes to kids that otherwise wouldn’t have them?
I excuse myself from Reggie and Tamara and rush over to the sign at the entrance to look at the picture again.
The jacket is close. It’s the same shade of red as the one from Cosmic. I see someone wearing a red volunteer shirt nearby. It’s Jenn. Does that mean that Miles is back too?
“Hey, Jenn?” I call her over. “This picture… Do you think that’s the same jacket you had in the store? The one that was donated to the prom drive?”
Jenn will know exactly what I’m talking about. I swear, she has a mental catalog of every piece of clothing that’s been in her store. “The red velvet. I remember.” She leans in, studying Miles’s picture. “Could be. I got that jacket back, you know.”
“What?”
“No one at the youth center wanted it. It wasn’t really a red velvet sports coat kind of crowd. I put it out for the festival today. It goes with the theme, doesn’t it?” She leans even closer to the picture. “So it was Miles’s jacket the whole time? That’s some coincidence.”
I exhale. Or maybe it’s fate. And that’s when I realize it—the fortunedidcome true. But the fortune wasn’t predictingIwould find love. It wasMiles’scookie. The fortune predictedhewould fall in love, and maybe he did.
I take a deep breath.
“You should tell him,” Jenn says.
I turn to her. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”
She smiles and pats my cheek. “I’ve known you your whole life, sunshine. Go get him. He fell as hard as you did.”
