Page 36 of Kiss and Spell

Gwen grasped her hands together. “You can only accept the nomination if you’re single.”

Ursula glanced from Gwen to Quentin. “I’m single, but why does it matter?”

“Don’t you remember the Sweetheart legend?” Gwen pressed. “You taught it to me.”

Ursula rolled her hand impatiently. “It’s been a long year, sis. I forgot what I had for breakfast. Please remind me.”

“Make the Sweetheart your wife, have a blissful life!” Gwen sang the rhyme with gusto.

Quentin gave her a thumbs-up. “The Committee wanted to recognize this milestone even though the official dinner and ceremony isn’t until June. We’re offering you and every nominee a complimentary gift basket stuffed with sweet goodies and a fancy dinner. Your picture’s going to be in the paper and online. We’re thinking about having a masquerade theme.”

“That sounds like fun,” Gwen said. “You’ll be famous rather than infamous.”

Ursula flinched inwardly. You just had to ask for something sweet. Over the last six months, she’d dealt with the story going viral and having strangers offer to marry her. Random people online quoting wedding songs at her and asking to meet them at the altar in her white dress. Ursula changed her work email and locked down her social media accounts. She wasn’t looking forward to receiving any more public attention, no matter how well meaning it all was.

“Thank you but no,” she said automatically.

“Hear him out,” Gwen said.

Ursula slid her a sharp look. “I heard him out. The answer’s still no.”

She had her list; she was getting back to making wishes.

“I can make it worth your while.” Quentin took out his phone and started typing on the keyboard. In an instant he went from friendly-ish customer to laser-focused manager.

“Are you going to pay me?” Ursula asked. “I take cash only.”

“We can make a donation,” Quentin said. “Our anonymous Smitten benefactor basically gave us a blank check to do anything we want. If you help us out with a few Sweetheart appearances, then we’d be happy to donate to Hopeful Heart in your name.”

“Aw! Think of the kids! Think of the bingo-loving seniors!” Gwen pleaded. “How can you say no?”

Ursula rubbed her chin. Even though her sudden wedding reception and the media coverage brought in much needed attention, Hopeful Heart was always in dire need of donations to get through the next year. Quentin was making it hard to say no, but she still hesitated.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Was she ready to relive the jilted bride narrative in the media again?

“Listen. I’ll be real with you.” Quentin faced Ursula, rooting her to the spot with a firm stare. A glint of desperation shone in his eyes. “The previous Smitten Sweetheart Contest was a total disaster. There was a ballot-stuffing scandal that nearly tanked the entire thing. Your story is exactly what the contest needs. An almost-bride getting her second chance at happily-ever-after. You couldn’t write that story!”

I didn’t want the story in the first place.

“Real talk,” Ursula said. “I’m moving on from all that botched wedding stuff. The online algorithm is messing up my flow. When you search my name, the first thing that pops up is me in that awful vintage dress.”

“You didn’t look bad in lace,” Gwen said gently.

“We’ll change the algorithm,” Quentin said, slapping his hands together with each word. “Be our Sweetheart. Go out. Dress up. Find a handsome date to show you off to the Grove. Break the internet with how lovely, blessed, and hydrated you’ll look. Change what people search and find about you. You’re doing the Grove and me a favor.” Quentin’s heart was in the right place. Hopeful Heart absolutely needed the money and she wanted to help them out as much as possible.

Ursula scrubbed a hand over her face. “Maybe I’ll accept the nomination.”

Quentin held up his hands. “Say no more. Call me when you decide.”

He thanked her again, then left, the shop bell jingling as the door closed behind him. Ursula went over to the door and flipped the sign to CLOSED.

She turned to Gwen, her face wrinkled in confusion.

“You’ve always said yes,” Gwen said. “I don’t think I’ve heard you say no—or maybe—before.”

“That’s the problem,” Ursula said.

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