“How are ticket sales?” he asks.
“Fine. Good, actually. Caroline's been promoting on social media.”
“Good.” He nods, but there's tension in his shoulders. “And the... the bookstore finances. Overall. Are they?—”
“Are you asking as my landlord or as someone on the planning committee?”
“I'm asking as—” He stops. Tries again. “I've been reviewing the lease terms.”
My stomach drops. “If you're about to tell me there's another increase?—”
“No. The opposite.” He's gripping his coffee cup like it personally offended him. “I'm looking for... flexibility. In the agreement.”
“Flexibility.”
“Options.”
“You already gave me options. I picked one. I signed my name on a piece of paper that will probably bankrupt me.” I canhear the bitterness creeping into my voice. “The ink is barely dry. Why are you bringing this up now?”
“Because it's not—” He exhales sharply, frustrated. “The board made that decision. I just delivered it. And I've been trying to find a way to?—”
“To what?”
He looks at me, and there's something almost pained in his expression.
“To fix it,” he says quietly. “If you'll let me.”
I don't know what to do with that. With him, sitting here at dawn, looking like the rent situation has been keeping him up at night too.
“Why do you care?” The question comes out softer than I intended.
His jaw tightens. “Maybe some answers are complicated.”
“So uncomplicate them.”
“I can't.” His hands tighten around his coffee cup. “Not yet.”
“Not yet,” I repeat. “That implies eventually.”
“It implies I'm working on something.”
“Something you can't tell me about.”
“Something I'm not ready to tell anyone about.”
I should let it go. I should accept the mystery and move on.
“You're very frustrating,” I tell him instead.
“So I've been told.”
“By who?”
“Mostly Grayson. Sometimes my reflection.”
I almost laugh. Almost.
“Jessica—”
