My heart does something acrobatic in my chest.
Me:Agreed. But you should know. I’m going to spend the next two days thinking about that counter-clearing comment.
The dots dance for a long time.
Dean:That’s the idea.
I bite my lip, heat flooding through me at the implication. At the promise.
The door chimes again. I look up, expecting Asher and Mads to have returned with more popcorn and commentary.
Instead, it’s the entire book club. Michelle, Hazel, Amber, and Jessica, all trying to look casual and failing spectacularly.
“We were just in the neighborhood—” Michelle starts.
“We saw Dean leave—” Hazel continues.
“And his truck is still outside—” Amber adds.
“So we thought we’d check on you—” Jessica finishes.
They all stare at me. At my smudged lipstick. At my flushed cheeks. At the plans spread across my counter and the smile I can’t quite hide.
“Oh my,” Michelle breathes. “Something happened.”
“He kissed you,” Hazel accuses. “Didn’t he?”
“Tell us everything,” Amber demands.
I laugh. Can’t help it. Can’t stop it. Just stand there in my boutique full of dreams and friends and second chances, and let myself be happy.
“He’s taking me to dinner,” I finally say. “Friday night.”
They erupt. Actual squealing. Hugging. Jessica might be crying.
“I knew it!” Grandma Hensley appears from behind a display case—when did she even get here?—brandishing her cane victoriously. “I called it at the coffee shop! That tension! That chemistry!”
“Were you hiding in my boutique?” I demand.
“I was shopping,” she says with great dignity. “The fact that I witnessed your romantic breakthrough is merely coincidence.”
Michelle pulls out champagne from her bag. Actual champagne. “I brought this just in case.”
“You were that confident?” I watch her pour into the coffee cups someone produced from somewhere.
“Honey, we’ve been watching you two circle each other for days.” Hazel accepts a cup. “The tension was visible from space.”
“To us finding Jo’s happiness!” Michelle raises her cup.
“To Dean’s excellent plans!” Amber adds.
“To fire marshals who know how to kiss!” Jessica contributes.
“To second chances!” Hazel finishes.
We toast. Drink terrible champagne from coffee cups. Laugh until my sides hurt.
And through the window, I can see Dean’s truck still parked outside, Rex’s face pressed against the glass, tail wagging.
