chapter Eight
It was with decidedly mixed feelings that I headed to work the next morning. I both dreaded and anticipated seeing Owen again. I hadn’t thought it possible to hold such contradictory views simultaneously, and doing so made me feel like my head was in imminent danger of exploding. I wasn’t even sure it had been real. There was a dreamlike quality about my memories of running around the store, doing magic. What if I had dreamed it? I decided not to say anything to Owen unless he said something to me first. I didn’t even try to do magic on my own, but I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of finding out that I couldn’t or that I could.
When I got to the store, I slipped upstairs to the coffee shop, hoping to delay the encounter with Owen as long as possible so I’d have a better chance of having my head on straight. I was tying on my apron when Florence arrived. “My, but someone’s glowing,” she said, raising an eyebrow and smirking.
“Am I?” I blurted, raising my hands to cheeks that suddenly felt like they were on fire. Then I hurried to add, “I just put on a little more makeup than usual, and that had me running late, so I hurried to get here. You know, a brisk walk on a crisp, cool morning is just the thing to put color in your cheeks.” And then I realized I’d overexplained so badly that it was obvious I was hiding something.
“Uh huh,” Florence said, grinning as she leaned against the counter. “What, exactly, happened here after everyone else left?”
“Nothing! We hid the clues and had some cocoa and then he walked me home.” I knew she was talking about romantic stuff, so I didn’t feel bad leaving out the part about doing magic together. “Not so much as a kiss on the cheek.”
“Disappointed by that, were we?”
“No, it was my decision. I have a boyfriend.” A split second too late, I realized that had probably been the wrong thing to say. “Not that it even came up at all. He didn’t make a move. I just didn’t make a move because of that.”
“Mmm-hh,” she said, nodding. “So you were thinking of making a move until you remembered your boyfriend.”
“No! That’s not what I meant!” Rather than dig myself in deeper, I went to work making coffee and arranging the bakery case. “And why are you so invested in this, anyway? If you’re so keen on him, you make a move.”
“I’m not the one who’s feeling the magic,” she said.
I nearly whacked my head on the counter from rising too quickly with a stack of paper cups. “The magic?” I asked, my voice rising in pitch and volume. How could she have known?
“You know, that connection you two have. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it. I can practically see the little hearts circling your heads when you two are together.”
Actually, little hearts had been about the only thing that hadn’t circled our heads the night before. If it had even been real. It had felt like a dream. But if it had been a dream, that might mean it was something I wanted to happen, and I wasn’t ready to admit that. I needed to deal with Josh before I started having romantic dreams about other men.
When Owen came to the coffee shop to test the new brew, I knew that it must have been real, unless we’d had the same dream. He didn’t quite look me in the eye and he blushed as he spoke to me. Florence watched all of this with great amusement. I’d never convince her that there was nothing going on.
“Let me know how it goes,” I told him before he headed down to open the store and start the treasure hunt, my attempt at a bright, cheerful tone coming out a little squeaky. Yes, he was just as cute as I remembered, and my whole body tingled at the thought of the magic we’d made together—literally.
I had to break it off with Josh, I decided right then. Even if nothing ended up happening with Owen, if I could feel this way about someone else while dating Josh, it was a pretty good sign that Josh and I weren’t meant to be. I couldn’t marry him.
At that moment, Josh came up the stairs into the coffee shop, holding an enormous bouquet of flowers. “For you,” he said, presenting them to me with a flourish.
“Oh, uh, thanks,” I said. “This is a surprise.”
“Well, this whole store revamp thing is a big deal for you, and I wanted to congratulate you. I think I haven’t come across as very supportive, but I just want what’s best for you. I didn’t think that would involve working in a bookstore, but that’s my issue, not yours, and I can see how much happier you’ve been lately.”
He was saying all the right things—too right, come to think of it. He sounded like he’d been perusing the self-help section before coming up to see me because his whole speech was right out of one of those “learn to communicate with your mate” books.
While I was still thinking about how to respond, the phone rang, and then Florence called out, “Katie, they want you downstairs to help kick off the treasure hunt.”
“Oh, sorry, I’ve got to go,” I said, then remembered that I was still holding that huge bouquet of flowers. Florence reached over and took them from me, and I headed off again.
“Apron!” Florence called after me, and she took the apron from me once I’d untied it. I nervously smoothed my hair as I hurried downstairs.
“We couldn’t start this without you,” Owen said, now sounding less bashful than he had earlier. There was a small crowd of customers gathered around the table where we were handing out the treasure hunt clues. “Do you want to do the honors?” Owen asked me.
“The honors?”
“Start the hunt.”
“Okay, on your marks, get set, go!” I called out. The contestants instantly dispersed. “That seems to be going well,” I said. “And I’d better get back up to the coffee shop because it looks like we’re going to be busier than usual.”
“I’m sorry, I should have hired someone to take your place before now. That detail slipped my mind.”
“Take my place?” I asked, suddenly alarmed. Was he angry that I hadn’t kissed him the night before?
“I’d planned to make you the assistant manager in charge of marketing and get you out of the coffee shop entirely—that is, if you don’t mind. I should have talked to you about that earlier.”
“Well, yeah, that sounds wonderful,” I said. “But for today, we’re swamped. The new coffee is going over really well already. You may have to hire a couple of new people.”
He grinned. “We make a pretty good team.”
“Yeah, I guess we do.” I had that same sense of gravity pulling me toward him that I’d had the night before, and again I resisted it. Before the temptation could overwhelm me, I hurried up the stairs to the coffee shop.
I paused at the top of the stairs when I saw that Josh and Florence were in the middle of an intense conversation. I hadn’t thought they knew each other all that well or that they’d have anything to talk about other than making small talk about me, but they seemed to be arguing.
“I thought your assignment was clear,” he said to her, and I moved behind a display so I could eavesdrop without being seen. What assignment could he possibly mean?
“Hey, I’m just the sassy best friend in this scenario,” she said. “If you knew the source material, you’d know she’s supposed to ignore my advice. I’m the person she’s supposed to resist, and I’ve been giving her plenty to resist, trust me. I can’t help it if you aren’t holding up your end of the script.”
“Not holding up my end? What more do I have to do? I brought flowers!”
“I wouldn’t call telling her that she might as well give up finding a job and marry you a good campaign for Mr. Right. That’s Mr. Wrong behavior.”
“That wasn’t my idea. That was in the scenario.”
“Then you’ve got a lot to overcome. Someone set you up for failure.”
This made no sense. It sounded like they were in on some kind of plan together. I slowly backed away, heading toward the stairs, as Josh said, “I guess I’ll just have to reset things. Supposedly, this shouldn’t have worked on either of them, especially on her, but it has, so it looks like we had bad information. We can still fix it, and then no harm done.”
I’d just reached the stairs and was ready to flee when Josh left the counter and strode over to me. “Hey, there you are, darling,” he said with a smile. “How’d your contest go?”
I tried to get away from him, but he moved faster than I did and caught my wrist. “Don’t touch me!” I cried out and jerked away from him. I lost my balance and would have fallen down the stairs, but he caught me, and I was too stunned and shaken to get out of his grip. He held me tightly, staring into my eyes, and then I got dizzy. Everything went blurry and dim.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself still staring into his eyes, but I couldn’t quite recall what I was doing on the stairs. All I knew was that my heart felt like it would burst from love as I looked at him. “You saved me,” I whispered.
He smiled in what looked like great relief and released his iron grip on me to brush my cheek with his fingers and sweep my hair away from my forehead. “Of course I did. Are you okay?”
“I–I think so,” I said. “I’m a little dizzy, though.”
With his arms around me, he supported me as he led me to the nearest seat. “Maybe you should bring her something to drink,” he shouted at Florence, who shot him a glare before pouring a cup of coffee and adding a generous dose of sugar to it. He took it from her and handed it to me, kneeling by my side as I drank it.
“What happened?” I looked up to see Owen standing there, looking alarmed. My head swam again, and the impression I’d had of him as a good friend who’d sparked magic in me shifted. I didn’t know where that had come from, but now I knew him as the skeevy boss who’d been making passes at me. I’d nearly fallen on the stairs while trying to get away from him and back to Josh.
“She’s fine,” Josh said curtly. “I’ll take care of her.”
“Katie?” Owen asked warily.
I shied away from him. “I’m fine,” I snapped. The hurt in his eyes gave me that weird dizzy feeling again, like I was the center of a tug-of-war between two versions of reality. He didn’t look like the kind of boss who’d make unwanted passes at his employees during business hours, and he certainly didn’t seem like someone I’d be so desperate to flee that I’d trip on the stairs and nearly fall, but that was how I remembered it.
“Okay, then,” Owen said with a nod, and he turned away and headed down the stairs.
“I’d better stay with you for a while,” Josh said, “just to be sure.”
“I’ll look after her,” Florence said.
“No, I think I’ll stay.”
I got the impression of conflict between them, but I wasn’t sure what it could be. I recalled her warning me about the boss and how I shouldn’t get my head turned by his good looks while I had a nice, solid man like Josh around.
I forced myself out of the chair. “I’m fine. I didn’t actually fall, so no harm done. And now I have to get back to work.” With what I hoped came across as a saucy wink and not a nervous twitch, I said, “You’re welcome to hang around awhile, but you’ll have to buy some coffee first. Don’t worry, it’s much better than it used to be.”
Without waiting for his response, I headed back to the counter and put on my apron. “Do you want the usual house blend or the special of the day?” I asked him.
“Surprise me,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on the counter. I had a vague memory of Owen doing the same thing, back when I’d thought he was just another customer and I’d warned him about the coffee, but then the image shifted so that he was leering instead of smiling and I was telling him about the nasty coffee to get rid of him. Yes, that was what had really happened. I must have tried remembering otherwise to make it easier to work with him.
Josh hung around for a while, chatting with Florence and me when we weren’t busy and staying to the side when we were. After lunch, he said, “Well, I’d better get going. I have some things to do to get ready for tonight.”
“Tonight?” I asked, but then the memory came flooding back. “Oh, yes, tonight, that special dinner you’ve got planned. You still can’t give me any hints?”
“Nope. Just wear something pretty.” He grinned. “A manicure might be nice if you’ve got the time.”
“A manicure?” I asked, but he was already gone. Then I figured it out. People would be seeing my fingernails if I were showing off a ring. “Florence, I think he’s planning to propose tonight!”
“Yeah, I bet he is,” she said dryly.
I examined my nails. “I don’t think I have time for a manicure.” Holding my hands toward Florence, I asked, “Do I need a manicure? Or can I maybe get by with a quick file and buff?”
She glanced at my hands before gently pushing them away. “You’re fine, and I don’t think you need the manicure for getting the ring slipped on your finger, just for showing it off afterward. You could get the manicure tomorrow. That is, assuming you say yes and will be wearing the ring.”
“Of course I’ll say yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
She stared at me silently for a while, then said, “Just be sure that’s what you want, okay? Think about it long and hard before you go to that dinner, and then don’t let anything that happens sway you. Go with your gut, with your first strong impulse, not with any afterthought that might hit you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? We’ve been talking about getting married for ages. This is only going to formalize it.”
“I just want you to get what you want—what you deserve,” she said, turning away. She looked troubled, with frown lines between her eyes, tension around her mouth, and, if I wasn’t mistaken, tears in her eyes.
“Florence, what is it?” I asked, catching her arm before she could move away from me. “Is there something you know that you aren’t telling me? You haven’t seen him with another woman, or anything like that, have you? I can take it, whatever it is, and I’d rather know now before I make any major decisions.”
As she faced me, Florence seemed to be in real pain—agony, even. She took a deep breath, started to say something, then squeezed her lips shut and shook her head. After a long pause, she said, “I just don’t think he’s good for you. Don’t ask me why I think that, but I do. That’s all. I want you to think for yourself.”
I blinked, taken aback. “Who said I wasn’t thinking for myself? It’s not like he has me under an evil spell, or anything like that.” Then I frowned. “You’ve never liked him, have you? You’ve been against him from the start. But I do like him, and I believe I’m intelligent enough to make my own decisions.”
For the rest of the day, we spoke only enough to get our work done, which made for an awkward working environment. It would have been a relief to go downstairs to help award the prizes to the treasure hunt winners, but that meant facing Owen. I kept a wary distance from him the whole time and tried to avoid looking directly at him. The impression of his attention being unwanted had faded, but being around him gave me that unsettling feeling of teetering on the brink between two realities. When I saw him heading toward me, I escaped upstairs. Even Florence’s iciness was preferable to that.
My shift ended with the end of the contest, and after I’d put away my apron and turned the coffee shop over to the evening crew, I tried to get out of the store without running into Owen, to no avail. He’d been waiting for me and pulled me aside. “What’s wrong, Katie?” he asked, looking so hurt and confused that my heart broke for him for a moment, until I remembered what he’d done.
“You dare to ask that?” I snarled.
“You’re angry because I gave you a promotion without checking with you first? You can turn it down if you don’t want it.”
I remembered that conversation, and in that memory, we’d been acting like friends. I hadn’t seen him as a threat, hadn’t found his attention unwelcome. I’d liked him. My stance on him wavered. “No, that’s not it …” I said vaguely, trying to recapture what the problem was.
“Then what is it? Last night, I thought we had something. I mean, we did magic together. It was the most amazing night of my life. And now you won’t even look at me. Do you have regrets? Not that there was anything to regret. I guess I can see being a little freaked out by the magic. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. I almost thought I’d dreamed it, and with the way you’re acting, maybe I did. Don’t you remember it?”
“Magic …” I whispered as images sprang to mind. Sparks and snowflakes danced through the air, and I’d felt so alive. But it had just been a dream, hadn’t it? The dream had reflected my fears of the power my employer had over me. Then again, he’d also dreamt it. That had to mean it was real, right? Unless maybe his dream was about his power over me and we just happened to use the same imagery in our dreams about the same subject. “I have to go,” I said, pushing past him. “I have a date tonight. With my boyfriend.”
He stepped out of the way, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it, I can understand. It’s up to you. I’d just thought … I’d hoped …” He shook his head. “I thought you were different.” Then he walked away before I could make my own dramatic exit.
I should have been happy to have an end to that particular dilemma, but my heart was heavy as I headed home to get ready for my big date. At the end of this evening, I’d be engaged. This was what I’d wanted for so long. Once we were married, I wouldn’t have to work in the store anymore. I’d be free.
Funny, that wasn’t supposed to leave me weighted down with gloom.
*
That evening, I was dressed up in my best little black dress and high heels with my hair up and my nails buffed when Josh came to pick me up for dinner. He wore a tuxedo and had yet another bouquet of flowers for me, this time red roses. I had that same burst of love for him when I saw him that’d I’d had on the stairs that morning, and all the gloom dissipated. I loved him and wanted to marry him. That was the only thing I’d ever wanted. I threw my arms around him and kissed him.
“Well, that’s more like it,” he said, and I got the strangest feeling he was talking more to himself than to me.
A cab waited for us at the curb and whisked us off to a fancy, romantic restaurant. This was the kind of proposal I’d hoped for when he’d made the first offhand remark about getting married. It had all the right ingredients, right out of a diamond commercial. I wondered when the big moment would come. Probably with dessert, I decided. That seemed to be the traditional way of doing it. Would he just get out the ring and kneel, or had he set up some fancy presentation where the ring would be in a piece of cake or a glass of champagne? I could barely focus on the meal from thinking about what was to come.
But then as the meal wore on, my enthusiasm gradually waned, even though we were surrounded by soft music and candlelight. I found myself looking across the table at him and getting that old feeling that I was looking at a stranger. I’d forgotten about that in all the excitement. Had I been excited about him proposing, or was it just excitement from being proposed to? Was this what Florence had meant about trusting my gut, focusing on my feelings instead of on the situation? It was so confusing, like I was feeling two completely opposite things at the same time. How could I be madly in love with Josh and wanting to marry him while still thinking of him as a stranger I didn’t particularly like?
I remembered other things as the evening continued. Just before that moment when he’d rescued me on the stairs, there had been something I was upset about, and it had to do with Josh, not Owen. I hadn’t been fleeing up the stairs from Owen, I’d been fleeing down the stairs from Josh after hearing him talk to Florence. She’d said something about Mr. Wrong and Mr. Right, and she’d been talking like these were roles we were all playing.
Then I realized what all this reminded me of: that movie Florence had selected for us to watch. There was the safe guy and the right guy, but the safe guy wasn’t even truly safe. He was someone to settle on, but there were warning signs and red flags about what life would be like with him. A marriage with him might not be bad, but the heroine could never really be herself while she was with him. There would always be a part of herself she’d have to deny, and that would be tragic. Choosing the right guy might feel risky, but the payoff would be huge.
The waiter brought out a small cake with sparklers on it, and the sparklers triggered another memory, of sparks dancing in the air as Owen and I ran through the bookstore. The memory was just as vivid as these sparklers in front of me. It hadn’t been a dream. It had been real. I’d wanted to kiss Owen after that, more than I’d ever wanted to kiss Josh—or anyone else. He wasn’t Mr. Wrong, the skeevy boss who could help my career at the cost of my soul. He was Mr. Right. I could have magic, so why settle for less?
Just as I realized that, Josh got out of his seat, knelt in front of me, and opened a ring box.
At first, I was frozen. I wanted to say or do something before this went any further, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even hear what he was saying over the pounding of my heart and the rush of blood in my ears. When his lips stopped moving, I heard myself say, “I can’t,” and then my feet made the decision my brain couldn’t. I got up and ran from the restaurant.
The store was still open, so I hoped Owen would be there. I supposed it wasn’t utterly essential that I talk to him now. He’d be there tomorrow, and I could talk to him then. But something drove me to get there right away. I knew who was right for me and I didn’t want to waste a moment. After the way I’d left him, I didn’t want to give him a chance to dwell on the way I’d acted toward him. If I gave him too much time to think about it, he might come to hate me, and I couldn’t bear that.
I tried flagging down several cabs, but they all passed right by me. A motorcycle messenger stopped and said, “Do you need a lift? You look like you’re having an emergency.”
I knew I wasn’t supposed to trust strangers, but this was a crisis, so I said, “You know the bookstore on Seventy-third?”
“Yeah, I won the treasure hunt there today—hey, that’s where I’ve seen you before. Hop on.”
He looked familiar enough that I decided to go for it. I hiked the skirt of my dress up to my thighs to climb on behind him, and he handed me the spare helmet that was hooked to the seat. I held on to him for dear life as he tore down the streets, weaving in and out of traffic. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, sure we were going to crash at any moment, and before I knew it, the cycle came to a stop. “Here we are,” the driver said.
I dismounted shakily, handed him the helmet, then waved thanks to him as I hurried to the store’s entrance. It was more than an hour before closing time, and the store was still full of customers browsing the shelves. Our promotional efforts seemed to have paid off, I noted, but that wasn’t my focus. I needed to find Owen. I thought about going to the customer service desk and using the store’s public address system but decided that would be overkill. Instead, I headed toward the manager’s office with the hope that he’d be in there doing paperwork.
I didn’t realize that I’d started jogging—no mean trick in high heels—so I could get there faster until some of the patrons stopped looking at books and turned to stare at me. I forced myself to slow to a brisk walk as I wove through the aisles. When I had to stop to let a couple with a stroller get past, I turned just in time to see Owen coming down the stairs. Before I knew what I was doing, I called out his name.
He froze and frowned. “Katie?” he said. I wasn’t sure how much I actually heard over the background noise of the store and how much was just me recognizing my name on his lips. I rushed toward the stairs as he hurried the rest of the way down.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted when we met at the foot of the stairs. “I don’t know what got into me today. It was like everything that had happened with us was just a dream and reality was totally different. But I was wrong about what was real. I was wrong about Josh. I was wrong about you. You’re the one.”
This time, I let gravity have its way as it drew us together. Our lips touched, and it was more than I could have imagined. I felt like I was coming awake—truly awake—for the first time in my life.
Both of us suddenly pulled away from each other. “Katie?” he whispered.
“Owen?” I responded.
Then, simultaneously, we said, “Where are we?”