Page 104 of Cinnamon Roll Set Up

I guess my secret pining wasn’t quite the secret I thought it was.

“It’s a good turnout tonight, son.”

I suspect he talks that way to everyone, but I like having him call me “son.”

“It’s all thanks to Georgia.”

He nods and takes the books. “Most things are.”

I watch her talking animatedly with someone across the room. Naturally, she’s wearing a sweater embroidered with books. She catches my gaze, and the heated look she sends my way is enough to make me want to flip the table and declare an end to book signing for the night.

I don’t, only because that would ruin all her hard work.

One person I don’t expect to see in line is Georgia’s dad. He and Ava have my books with them, but he’s also got a few rom-coms Georgia illustrated tucked under one arm. He catches my curious look.

“They’re for Ava,” he says quickly. But he holds one out to admire. “Nice cover though, isn’t it?”

He sounds like he’s not quite sure, but he’s made up his mind because Georgia had a hand in it. I like the progress.

“Beautiful cover,” I confirm.

Willa splays a hand on the table in front of me. “We get to pick out books for us. Mama said we can’t read your books yet because they’re boring.”

Ava puts a gentle hand on Willa’s shoulder, laughing as though she’d rather put that hand over her mouth. “I didn’t say they’re boring, darling. I said they’re not for children.”

Willa nods. “Because they’re boring.”

Probably not the phrase you want repeating through the room at your book signing, but I adore her too much to ask her to stop.

“Which book are you getting instead?” I ask.

She slams down a brightly colored book with a delicate fairy on the cover. “Her name is Sparkle Gardenhome.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I’m getting this one.” Finn shows me a middle grade sci-fi about a field trip to Marsgone wrong.

“Good choice.”

“But Dad says maybe I can read yours after he does and sees what it’s all about.”

“You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

After the line dwindles away and guests have all checked out, Georgia and I linger in the bookshop. We often spend a little extra time in the store after closing, when the lights are low and we can just enjoy being surrounded by books.

Also, one of the cozy chairs is positioned exactly right among the shelves to be hidden from any windows. Georgia calls it the Make-out Chair. It’s my favorite place in the store. We wander through the stacks, and I sit in the secret chair, pulling her down to sit in my lap.

“Can we burn those posters of my face now?”

She giggles, getting comfortable against me. “Absolutely not. They’re going in my bedroom.”

“I’ll never be able to set foot in there again.”

She side-eyes me. “Seems doubtful.”

We both know not even the prospect of seeing my own giant face would keep me out now that I’ve been invited in.

“Thank you for tonight,” I tell her. “It went better than I’d dreamed.”

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