Ollie chewed slowly, buying time. The trouble with having friends who knew you too well was that hiding became impossible. And Jules had always seen through his defenses with unnerving accuracy.
“What if we can’t save it?” he finally asked, his voice small. “What if all of this”—he gestured around the room, at the posters and flyers and schedules—“is just delaying the inevitable? My parents have worked their whole lives for that store, and I’m watching it slip away. Maybe they’re right, and the best thing to do would be to sell the building while they can still make a profit from it.”
“You’re letting fear get the better of you,” Jules said gently. “They wouldn’t have given you the green light to try some new ideas if they were really ready to throw in the towel.”
“The numbers don’t lie. Even before the ceiling collapsed, we were barely breaking even most months.” Ollie set down his pizza, his appetite fading. “My parents are tired, Jules. They deserve to retire without worrying about whether their life’swork is going to bankrupt them. I’m starting to really think selling is the better option.”
“Is that what you want?”
“What I want doesn’t matter. It’s their store.”
Jules raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I asked.”
Ollie sighed, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. The tension had settled between his shoulder blades, a physical manifestation of his anxiety. “No, it’s not what I want,” he admitted quietly. He traced an invisible pattern on the table, organizing his thoughts. “I’ve been researching what successful independent bookstores are doing—creating membership programs with exclusive perks, partnering with local businesses for cross-promotion, featuring local voices. But every time I start to get excited, I remember the bank statements and wonder if I’m just postponing the inevitable.”
“That all sounds amazing,” Jules said firmly. “I’ll say again, your parents wouldn’t have agreed to your ideas if they didn’t believe in you.”
“Or they were just desperate for a break,” Ollie countered, his throat tightening with emotion he refused to show.
“Stop that.” Jules nudged his shoulder. “You know that’s not their way. But this isn’t just about the bookstore, is it?”
Heat crept up Ollie’s neck. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, there’s a certain good-looking single dad who’s been occupying a lot of your mental real estate lately.” Jules’s smile was knowing. “The one who keeps finding reasons to stop by the store even when there’s no construction work happening.”
“Finn’s just being helpful,” Ollie protested weakly, his heart giving a traitorous little leap at just saying Finn’s name.
“Uh-huh. And I’m not being nosy when I ask if anything’s happened between you two.” A lie for a lie. Jules could be such a jerk sometimes.
Ollie hesitated, the memory of that almost-moment in the office flooding back. The way Finn’s eyes dropped to Ollie’s lips, the air between them charged with possibility, the way his own heart had hammered against his ribs. His fingers twisted nervously in his lap.
“Nothing’s happened,” he said finally. “Not really. But there was a…moment. At the store, during the planning meeting.”
Jules leaned forward, eyes widening. “What kind of moment?”
“The kind where you’re standing too close and not close enough at the same time.” Ollie’s voice dropped to a near-whisper, the confession making him feel oddly vulnerable. “I thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to. But then someone called my name, and the spell broke.”
“And you haven’t talked about it since?”
Ollie shook his head. “What’s there to talk about? He has Brooklyn to think about, and I have the store, and the timing couldn’t possibly be worse.”
“Or maybe it couldn’t be better,” Jules suggested. “You both need something good right now. Something that’s just for you.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It never is. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying.” Jules squeezed his arm. “You deserve to be happy, Ollie. Not just as the bookstore guy or the helper or the good son. As you.”
The simple affirmation hit Ollie harder than he expected. A lump formed in his throat as he considered Jules’s words. When was the last time Ollie had allowed himself to want something only for him? Something that wasn’t tied to obligation or responsibility?
“I haven’t dated anyone seriously in almost two years,” he admitted quietly. “And anything happening would depend on him being something other than straight. What if I’m just a complication they don’t need? What if I let myself feel something real and he decides it’s too much?”
“That’s the risk with any relationship,” Jules said, their voice gentle but firm. “But from what I’ve seen, the way he looks at you isn’t casual. And you deserve someone who sees you—not just bookstore Ollie or responsible son Ollie, but all of you.”
“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words barely audible. “Of opening myself up. Of trusting Finn with my heart when everything feels so uncertain.”
“Being scared doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong,” Jules said softly. “It means you’re doing something that matters.”
Before Ollie could respond, the library door swung open, and Finn stepped in, carrying a box of supplies. Jules gave Ollie a pointed‘I told you so’look. His eyes immediately found Ollie’s across the room, and the small smile that curved his lips sent warmth spreading through Ollie’s chest.
