Page 95 of Battle of the Bookstores

Maybe that’s exactly what she’s thinking of. Of me—Ryan.

BookshopGirl:Although, any book about my mom would be unsatisfying.

RJ.Reads:How so? Sounds like a real page-turner.

BookshopGirl:Nah. In fiction, readers want the character to grow or change. My mom keeps making the same mistakes over and over.

RJ.Reads:You’re right—that wouldn’t make a good novel.

RJ.Reads:One star.

BookshopGirl:DNF.

I laugh, loud enough to distract the girls studying at the next table over. One of them shoots me a glare before going back to quizzing her friend on the ventricles of a plastic heart. I consider asking if they want to dissect the complicated feelings of a very real heart, but I know the answer I’m looking for isn’t in any book, medical or otherwise.

Even the most skilled romance writer would have a hard time capturing the situationship I’ve found myself in. For one thing, it’s impossible to condense the essence of Josie—her personality, her beauty, her intelligence—into black words on a white page. It would take a whole series to get to the bottom of what makes her tick.

Then there are my messy feelings: the elation of Josie opening up online to me (well, RJ); the crushing disappointment that she had no intention of opening up in real life to me (Ryan); the overwhelming hopelessness that comes with the realization that the closer we get onlineandin real life, the more complicated it’ll be when she finds out the truth.

The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach returns when I remember that I’m not being honest with her. But as much as I want her to know who I am, it feels wrong to drop a massive truth-bomb on her. Especially right now.

I stare back at the screen. Maybe if I can understand where the fear comes from, I’ll know how to convince her it’s worth the risk of breaking anonymity.

RJ.Reads:If you could write your mom’s story, what lesson would you have her character learn?

BookshopGirl:That real life isn’t like a romance novel, that you aren’t guaranteed a happy ending and you should be careful who you give your heart to. I’m so tired of her sacrificing everything for men who won’t sacrifice anything for her.

RJ.Reads:Now that sounds like a five-star read.

BookshopGirl:Shoot—my sister is calling. I’ve got to go. Thanks for listening, for being here.

RJ.Reads:Anytime.

Anytime, Josie Klein.

—

The next morning,I’m at Happy Endings early for a staff meeting. My team deserves an update on this new alliance with Josie.

“Who wants to pick the prompt?” I ask as everyone takes their seats.

“I will!” Indira says with more energy than anyone should have at this hour. I’ve never been a morning person, and I barely slept last night, thanks to a toxic combination of worrying about Josie, feeling sorry for myself, and however much sugar is in an entire box of Munchkins.

Indira reaches into the fishbowl and chooses a slip of paper. She reads aloud: “ ‘If you were to get dropped into a romance novel, what would you want to experience?’ ”

“Let’s make this a speed round,” I say. “Eliza, want to start?”

Eliza sits up taller in her seat. “I’d love to get dropped into the Bridgerton world…just for a few days. Then I’d want to come back to our world, where women have at least some human rights.”

We continue moving around the circle:

Cinderella: “No question: secret billionaire with a heart of gold.”

Indira: “Put me in the Omegaverse and give me a lady werewolf.”

Nora: “I’d choose the third-act breakup.”

Everyone stops and stares at her, aghast.

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