As Jules left, Ollie remained at the table, staring into his coffee. The idea that Finn’s distance might be rooted in fear rather than indifference was both comforting and painful. If Jules was right—if Finn was pulling away because he cared too much, not too little—then maybe there was still hope.
But first, he had a bookstore to run.
Shelf Care Centralwas quiet when Ollie arrived, just a few regulars browsing the stacks. His parents moved around the space with the easy familiarity of people who’d spent decades surrounded by books—his mom straightening displays, his dad tallying inventory behind the counter.
“There he is,” his father said, looking up with a smile. “We were starting to think you’d abandoned us for the day.”
“Sorry,” Ollie said, shrugging off his jacket. “Got caught up with Jules.”
His mother appeared from between the shelves, a knowing look in her eyes. “Everything okay, honey? You look tired.”
“I’m fine,” Ollie assured her, the automatic response falling from his lips before he could consider its truth. “Just a lot on my mind with the showcase coming up.”
His parents exchanged a glance—the silent communication of people who’d been married long enough to read each other’s thoughts. His father nodded slightly, and his motherdisappeared into the back room, returning moments later with a steaming mug of tea.
“Chamomile with honey,” she said, pressing it into his hands. “Your thinking tea.”
The simple gesture, so full of understanding and care, made Ollie’s throat tight with emotion. “Thanks, Mom.”
“We’ve been working on the event logistics,” his father said, sliding a notebook across the counter. “Thought we could handle the setup and scheduling if you want to focus on the creative elements. The numbers don’t lie. These special events you’ve started putting together are working. You need the space to work on the parts of them that bring you to life and leave the rest to us. It’s time we treat you like the partner you are in all of this.”
Ollie flipped through the pages, taking in his father’s neat handwriting—author time slots, a menu for simple drinks and snacky type foods, seating arrangements. All the practical details he’d been avoiding in his distracted state.
“This is…wow. Thank you.” He looked up, meeting his father’s steady gaze. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“We wanted to,” his mother said simply. “We’re proud of what you’re building here, Ollie. The store’s having its best month in two years, and that’s all because of you.”
“I hope so,” he said, not quite able to match their confidence. “I just want it to be perfect.”
“It won’t be,” his father said matter-of-factly. “Nothing ever is. But it’ll be genuine and warm and full of books people love. That’s what matters.”
Ollie nodded, letting the wisdom of those words settle over him. His father was right. Perfection wasn’t the goal. Connection was. Community. The same things he wanted with Finn, if he were being honest with himself.
“I should get to work on the program,” he said, gesturing toward the back room. “See if I can get my brain to cooperate.”
His mother squeezed his arm gently. “We’ve got the front. Take all the time you need.”
In the small back office, Ollie settled at the desk, opening his laptop with determination. The document for the showcase program stared back at him, half-finished and uninspired. He’d been working on it for days, trying to capture the essence of what made romance novels so powerful—the hope, the vulnerability, the promise that love could heal even the deepest wounds.
But the words wouldn’t come. Every time he tried to write an event description about love and trust and taking chances, his mind circled back to Finn—to the distance growing between them, to the walls he couldn’t seem to breach.
After an hour of staring at the same paragraph, making minimal progress, Ollie gave up. He closed the laptop with a sigh, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. Maybe Jules was right. Maybe he couldn’t create from this place of uncertainty and longing. Maybe he needed to resolve things with Finn before he could write about love with any authenticity.
The sound of the bell above the front door pulled him from his thoughts. He heard his mother’s warm greeting, followed by a familiar voice that made his heart skip.
Finn.
Ollie stood so quickly he nearly knocked over his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, straightened his glasses, and took a deep breath before stepping out of the office.
Finn stood near the counter, talking quietly with Ollie’s father. He looked tired, the shadows under his eyes more pronounced than usual, but when he turned and saw Ollie, his face softened with something that looked like relief.
“Hey,” Finn said, his voice low and warm. “Got a minute?”
Ollie nodded, not trusting his voice. He led Finn back to the office, acutely aware of his parents’ curious gazes following them. The small space felt even more cramped with Finn in it, his presence filling every corner, making the familiar clutter of books and papers seem suddenly intimate rather than chaotic.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Ollie said, closing the door behind them. “I thought you were swamped with work.”
Finn winced at the hint of hurt in Ollie’s voice. “I was. Am. But I needed to see you.”
