By the time Ollie unlocked the bookstore, he’d crafted and deleted at least fifteen different messages to Finn. Each attempt felt either too casual—Hey, about that kiss…—or too intense—I haven’t stopped thinking about you—or too needy—Are we okay?
He settled on something simple as he unlocked the store.
Hope Brooklyn’s okay. Here if you need anything.
The message sent with a soft whoosh that somehow sounded final in the quiet of the empty bookstore. Ollie pocketed his phone and surveyed the space, seeking distraction in the familiar comfort of books and shelves.
The renovation had transformed Shelf Care Central. The ceiling was whole again, the walls freshly painted, new shelving gleaming in the morning light. The “Save the Shelf” banner stillhung across the front window, a reminder of how far they’d come—and how far they still had to go.
Ollie threw himself into work, unpacking boxes of new releases and replacement stock, arranging displays for the upcoming events, and making endless lists in his worn notebook. If he stayed busy enough, maybe he could outrun the gnawing uncertainty in his chest.
His phone remained silent.
By mid-morning, the store had come alive with the usual Saturday bustle. A few customers browsed the shelves, the coffee machine gurgled in the back, and Ollie maintained his best approximation of normalcy—smiling, recommending books, making small talk. But his eyes kept drifting to the door, hoping for a familiar figure that didn’t appear.
“You look like you’re expecting the Spanish Inquisition,” Sam announced, appearing at his elbow with a small paper bag from the farmers’ market. Maya followed close behind, carrying what appeared to be a container of chicken soup from the diner down the street. “Or possibly the apocalypse. Either way, sustenance is required.”
“My heroes,” Ollie said, accepting the soup with both hands. “Though I’d argue no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.”
“He’s quotingMonty Python. The patient may yet survive,” Sam stage-whispered to Maya, who rolled her eyes fondly.
“We figured you could use reinforcements,” Maya explained. “Jules is parking the car. They’re bringing the final mockups for the book club posters.”
Ollie nodded, grateful for his friends’ presence even as anxiety continued to gnaw at his insides. “You guys are the best. Seriously.”
Sam studied him over the rim of her coffee cup. “Okay, what gives? You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The ‘I’m fine but actually dying inside’ look,” Sam clarified. “The one where your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you keep checking your phone every thirty seconds.”
Heat crept up Ollie’s neck. “I don’t have a look.”
“You absolutely do,” Maya confirmed gently. “And it’s currently screaming ‘emotional crisis’ in neon letters.”
Before Ollie could formulate a denial, the bell above the door chimed. His heart leaped traitorously, only to sink when Jules entered instead of Finn.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Jules called, waving a portfolio as they approached. “The printer was having a moment, but I sweet-talked them into rushing our order.” They paused, taking in the tableau before them. “What did I miss?”
“Ollie’s having feelings and refusing to talk about them,” Sam supplied helpfully.
“I’m not—” Ollie began, then sighed, the fight draining out of him. “Can we not do this right now? We have posters to hang around town, and I’m still trying to get the store back to rights.”
Jules exchanged a look with Sam and Maya that Ollie pretended not to notice. “Sure,” they said easily. “Let’s set up in the back office.”
The next hour passed in a flurry of dividing up the posters to be hung inside every business that would let them, finalizing schedules, and assigning tasks for the upcoming fundraiser. Ollie threw himself into the planning with perhaps too much enthusiasm, as if perfect execution could somehow fill the hollow space in his chest.
When his phone finally buzzed, he nearly knocked over his coffee in his haste to check it.
Sorry for the radio silence. Dealing with Brooklyn stuff. I’ll try to stop by later.
The brief message was so far from what Ollie had hoped for that he stared at it for several seconds, waiting for more words that didn’t come. No mention of the kiss. No acknowledgment of what had happened between them. Just…logistics. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from Finn, really. The man wasn’t exactly known for wearing his heart on his sleeve or diving into emotional conversations. Still, a small part of him had hoped for something more.
“Earth to Ollie.” Jules’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he said automatically, pocketing his phone. “Just distracted. Where were we?”
Jules studied him for a moment, then turned to Sam and Maya. “Can you two handle the poster distribution? I need to help Ollie figure out the romance night setup.”
