I turn the page.
Meet our heroine: Bailey.
My heart stutters.
Okay. Coincidence. Bailey's a common name. There are probably thousands of Baileys walking around Portland alone. It doesn't—
Dark hair. Violet eyes. A single dimple on her right cheek when she smiles.
My hand flies to my face.
To my right cheek.
To the dimple that only shows up when I smile. The one my mother used to call my "secret dimple" because it hides the rest of the time.
This isn't possible.
I turn another page, and there she is. The heroine. Bailey. Illustrated in full color, taking up the entire page.
She's notsimilarto me.
Sheisme.
The same wave to her dark hair. The same slightly-too-wide eyes. The same slope to her nose that I've always thought made me look like a cartoon character. Even the way she's standing, shoulders slightly hunched, arms crossed over her stomach like she's trying to take up less space. That's me. That's how I stand in every photo anyone's ever taken of me.
My hands are shaking now. Actually shaking. The book trembles in my grip.
Okay. Okay okay okay. Let's think. Let's be logical about this.
This is a prank. It has to be a prank. Marilyn found out I'd be working her wedding. She set this up somehow. Paid someone to make a custom book, planted it here, is probably watching from a hidden camera right now, laughing at the look on my face—
I look around the shop. Still empty. Still silent except for the crackle of the fire and the rain drumming against the windows.
No cameras that I can see. No Marilyn lurking behind the shelves with her phone out.
Just me, and the book, and the impossible girl on the page who wears my face.
I should put it down.
I should put it down and walk out of this shop and never come back and pretend this never happened.
Instead, I turn the page.
I CAN'T STOP READING.
I know I should. I know this is insane. But every page I turn reveals another detail that shouldn't be possible, and every time I tell myselfthis is the last one, I'll stop after this, I don't. I can't.
Book-Bailey tucks her hair behind her left ear when she's nervous.
So do I.
Book-Bailey bites her bottom lip when she's thinking.
I'm doing it right now.
Book-Bailey tilts her head to the left when she's confused, like a dog hearing a strange sound.
I catch myself mid-tilt and force my head straight.
