Page 208 of When Love Takes Root

Her mouth opened, ready to argue, but I held up my phone.

“You get five minutes. Anything you put in here, I buy.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Josiah.”

“Five minutes.”

“I’m not about to run through somebody’s store like that.” She glanced around, already self-conscious.

“You are.”

“Absolutely not.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Stop overthinking it. Just enjoy it.”

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I mean it.” I held her gaze. “Don’t talk yourself out of something good.”

A slow breath left her, and her shoulders eased a little.

Dr. Malcolm lifted a small brass bell. “Clock’s on.”

Renee smiled from behind the counter. “Go ahead, baby.”

Celeste looked between them and me, disbelief written all over her face. “Y’all serious?”

From the back, Juice called out, “Very serious!”

Melody laughed. “Leave her alone.”

Celeste covered her mouth, laughing as her eyes filled.

I placed the basket in her hands. “Five minutes.”

She looked down at it, then up at the shelves.

I started the timer.

At first, she walked.

Of course she did.

She tried to stay composed, brushing her fingers along book spines, pausing here and there. Then she stopped at a display labeled Black Love, Black Joy, Black HEA.

Her whole face softened.

The display was stacked with B. Love Publications titles, the covers arranged like a love letter to Black women who still believed in romance with depth, humor, healing, and a little well-earned chaos. There were books by B. Love, Kay Shanee, Rosè Dior, Fallynn West, Tracy Gray, and Soleil; their names lined across the table like a reminder that Black love stories could be tender, messy, hilarious, spiritual, sensual, and unforgettable all at once.

“I’ve been meaning to read more of these.” Her voice dropped, almost to herself.

I held the basket closer. “Then start.”

She looked at me.

I nodded. “Go ahead.”

Her eyes widened, then she laughed, the sound lighter now.