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“What’s wrong?” I looked at the clipboard in her hands, expecting the worst.

“Oh, nothing bad,” she assured me, raking a hand over her fluffy, jet-black Afro. The hair bounced back into place the moment her fingers were gone. “I wanted to run something by you, actually.”

“Oh? Go for it?” Turning away from my laptop and the open spreadsheet on the screen, I gave her my attention.

Cris was the best in the business. At least that’s what Lorenzo told me. She could take a gutted shoebox and turn it into a coveted destination. And I was counting on her to do at least a fraction of that with my bookstore and cafe.

“Considering what you want to do with the space, we think it would be best to create a second floor since the ceilings are so high.”

“I’m listening.” I angled my head to look at the clipboard she held between us, pretending I understood even half of the plans drawn on them.

“It would more than double your square footage since we knocked out the wall separating the bakery. The lounge areacould extend in that direction without you having to sacrifice space for books. And it would give you better separation between your retail and lounge areas.”

“Yea, but that can’t be the only place we have seating.” I imagined Ms. Ruby trying to climb the stairs with her ailing hips. Or readers in wheelchairs not being able to utilize the space and shook my head. That wouldn’t work. “It’s not accessible if we put all the couches upstairs. customers with mobility issues won’t be able to enjoy it and that defeats the purpose.”

The woman’s face fell before she gave me a curt nod.

“I’m not opposed to the idea, Cris.” I laid a hand on her forearm. “But I need it to make sense. For everybody. I think we can still do that by having the top and bottoms mirror each other. Of course, the top floor will just have more room.”

Her smile returned and she nodded, jotting something down. “I’ll draw up new plans and get those to you right away.”

“And how much time would that add to my timeline?”

“Twelve weeks. But that’s a conservative estimate. We need to get electric and plumbing back in here to make sure everything is good to go and then we could start.”

A sharp squeeze tightened around my chest at the thought of the mounting price tag, but Lorenzo’s voice filtered through my head before I can make an excuse not to do it.

The thought of you spending my money and it making you happy turns me on.

He hadn’t done anything to make me second-guess it, but the ongoing tally still made my head spin. Between the cafe and bookstore, I was already half a million into the project and we hadn’t even fully finished designing the space. All that money went to demolishing the old interiors, redoing electric and plumbing and pre-ordering building materials. I still needed to figure out what appliances I wanted in the cafe, what couches were the most comfortable and durable for the readinglounge, and where I was going to source all my books once my custom shelving was built. Then there was the matter of hiring employees for both sides of the operation once the doors opened to the public. It was…a lot.

An avalanche of emotions assaulted me, sudden wooziness making me sway on my feet.

“You alright, Ms. Ambrose?”

“Of course, I just need to sit down for a minute.”

Giving Cris another smile, I turned to find a seat. I plopped down on an overturned bucket and released a shaky breath.

It was happening, every single dream I’d had for years was falling into place, and I needed to calm the fuck down.

I was overwhelmed. Happy. In disbelief that this was my life. And a small part—the part of me that still felt like an eighteen year old finding out her grandmother passed unexpectedly—wanted a hug from Benita to tell me I deserved this.

Deep breath, Goldy. It’s happeningbecauseyou deserve it. You deserve to be here, receiving all the love and support that you are.

If my grandmother was here, she’d gently tease me for crying, and I could hear her raspy voice as if she were standing in front of me.

“I know my grand baby ain’t sitting up here with tears in her eyes.” Then her rough hands, weathered from years of gardening and factory work, would wipe away the tears while she smiled at me. “See? You a’ight. Just as pretty as you wanna be.” A kiss against my forehead. A squeeze against my shoulder. “You still my sunshine. I don’t care how old you get.”

When I came down from my episode, Cris had vacated the space in front of me and I looked around the shop with a smile on my face.

Benita Ambrose might not be here to see all my dreams come true, but I could still honor her. She’d be proud of me for gettingthis far. For not letting the idea die with me as a doodle in my journal.

I’d just braced my hands on my knees to stand up when the front door opened, sending the bells above it into a musical trill.

My eyes traced the new arrival with alarm.

Lilith Summers? What the hell was she doing here? And why did she look so mad about it?