Page 88 of Meet Cute Magic

“And then we’re going to continue that way.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “What?” His lips tip up in a gentle, soft smile as he takes a step closer to me.

“Break the curse, Rosie. Break it and forget me.” He lifts the book he’s holding, an outstretched hand toward me. “Then remember us again.”

“I…” I start, staring at his hand but not taking what he’s offering me. “I don’t understand.”

“I wrote it all down,” he says, and I stare at him, confused. “I wrote us down. I…” He sighs, running a hand over his head. “Shit. I’m fucking this up.” He shakes the bound book he’s holding again toward me, and with shaking hands, I take it. “I wrote it for you.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, turning the heavy book in my hands. It has gorgeous brown leather with no words on the front, worn and aged, a golden ribbon bookmark coming out of the top, reminding me of the tiny threads that used to connect us.

“I wrote it all down for you. All of it. The good, the bad, my fuck-up, the million signs and opportunities I missed. All of it’s in there.” My heart pounds, but slowly, I open the book. It opens halfway through, revealing heavy cream paper, but that isn’t what has my breath stopping in my lungs.

The pages are covered in heavy-handed black ink. Jack’s handwriting, I realize.

“If you forget it, when you forget, it’ll be here.” My chest jumps, in despair or joy, I can’t decide, but it does all the same. “The first time I saw you, some part of me knew I was going to fall for you. Each time you came into my place and I argued with you. It’s in there.” As I flip through to the front, I realize there are dates and entries, going back three years.

Three years since I moved across the street and opened Meet Cute Magic.

March 14

The for sale sign came down across the way, and I saw you walk in. Over the next week, you moved your things in with your sisters, but I never came over to introduce myself.

You were far too pretty, and I knew I’d make a fool of myself.

March 30

You came over to introduce yourself, and I was so stunned that someone as sweet and beautiful as you was in my shop, I panicked and acted like an ass. It turns out, I’d do that a lot over the next three years.

April 30

The grand opening of Meet Cute Magic had a line outside the store. It made me smile, even if I complained to the town the next day that you left the balloons up too long.

I smile at the memory of Mayor Greenwell coming the next day with a begrudging, apologetic smile to remind me that all exterior decorations had to be taken down the same day. I never did know who complained, though I had come to my own, seemingly accurate, conclusions.

The passages continue, noting every interaction we ever had.

“How do you remember all of this? There are exact dates,” I whisper as I get to the time I knocked over his table. I’m pretty sure it was an accident, he writes. But I was a dick about it because by then, that was the personality I adopted when it came to you. It made me feel safer, knowing you’d keep your distance.

“I,” he starts, then puts a hand to his neck. “I journal. It’s lame, I know, but it helps with my anxiety.”

“So you wrote down every time we bumped into each other, every time we argued?” I continue to scan through, reaching when I broke his wizard, when he caught me. It was like electricity in my veins, touching you for the first time.

“You were on my mind a lot, Rosie. For years now.”

“And this is for…”

“So you can remember. You’re going to fall in love with me all over again once the curse is broken. I’m going to make sure of it because I know in my gut you were made to be mine, and I was made to be yours, to take care of you, to give you a safe place to be soft. But I also don’t want you to forget this. To forget the first iteration of us. You won’t forget every previous moment that led to us being what we are. What we’re going to be. I don’t know if I’ll forget, too, so I wanted us to have that, just in case.” He rolls his lips between his teeth before giving me a small, embarrassed smile and pulling his phone out, showing me the lock screen.

It used to be a photo of a dragon, but two weeks ago it was changed to a photo of us together. Now it’s black with big, bold white letters on it. Check your notes app; don’t forget her.

“Your notes app?”

He shrugs. “I wrote myself a letter explaining. There’s a video recording, too, in case I don’t believe myself. I’m not leaving anything up to chance.” My chest swells and my eyes begin to water as I flip through more pages, seeing our story written there in black in white, in Jack’s messy scrawl.

“You wrote this,” I whisper. “When?”

“I stopped at the stationery store at… one? Maybe? Then got right to work. I finished ten minutes ago. I had an epiphany, thanks to your sister and a lemony scone.”