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“Then so am I,” he said, sitting down. “Now, what’s wrong?” He scooted the chair over until he was sitting on her right, rather than across from her. “Everything okay?” He sounded worried.

“Yeah, it’s not— It wasn’t anything crazy,” she said. “He just thought it was funny, me working at a bookstore.”

Grayson’s brows furrowed. “Why is that funny?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Ask him. He didn’t think it was a real job.”

Grayson’s face morphed into anger. “Fuck him,” he snapped, eyes blazing. “What was he? An accountant or something stupid?”

“He was a doctor,” she said.

“Oh … well, whatever. We have too many doctors in the world, not nearly enough magical bookstore managers.”

She smiled a little at that. “Thanks for saying that, even if you don’t mean it.”

“Luce, I mean it,” he said, expression agitated. “Of course I mean it.”

She still didn’t quite believe him, and he moved his hand over hers on the table, palm warm on her knuckles. “Believe me,” he said. “You know I’m not the biggest fan of witches, but even I can admit that what you do is … well, it’s magical. It’s important.”

“Do you really think that?” she asked, voice soft.

“Of course. Books bring you new experiences, new friends, new families. Books are an escape, a sanctuary, a home, and I don’t know where I’d be without them. Books have made me feel less lonely and enriched my life; they’ve taught me to feel, to think, to explore. And you connect people with those types of books. You change and save lives—even if you do it quietly.”

“Thanks,” she said, sitting up. She was feeling better, the pain from an hour ago fading.

“Anyway, you were way out of his league,” Grayson said. “Especially in that sweater.” He whistled, succeeding in making her blush. She smiled, and he grinned back. “You’re gorgeous and he’s …” He trailed off, raising his brows. “You were doing charity, honestly, going out with him.” She laughed. “He’s gonna be bald in another two years—sorry, but that’s guaranteed.”

“No, you’re absolutely right, and you should say it,” she said, giggling. “I was doing charity!”

“Exactly. And who are you, Mother Teresa? No!”

Lucy burst out laughing. Mateo came over then with a plate of quesadilla quarters, setting it in front of Grayson with a lemonade.

“Oh, did you come here to eat?” she asked.

“Yeah, I walked with Charles over to the pub to say hello to William and ordered when I left the bookstore,” he said. He moved the plate of food her way. “Go on, have some.”

“Honestly, I will,” she said, taking a quarter and dipping it in sour cream. She had hardly eaten during her date and was starving. Grayson waved Mateo over and ordered more food, speaking to him in Spanish. Lucy’s eyebrows raised.

“Your Spanish is pretty good,” she said after Mateo left.

“It better be, I spent long enough getting scolded by my teachers for it,” he replied.

“You learned in school?”

“Yup. Along with a few other languages.”

She was intrigued. “Ooh, like what?” She reached for another quesadilla quarter.

“Latin, a bit of Mandarin, and Urdu, actually.”

Her mouth fell open. “No way,” she said. “I don’t believe you.”

He laughed, taking a sip of his lemonade. “No, really, it’s true,” he said. “I took a bunch of Urdu classes because I wanted to take this upperlevel Urdu poetry class at uni. Definitely not fluent, but I know a bit.”

Lucy had diligently tried to learn Urdu when she was younger to be closer with her mother, but it hadn’t ended up making much of a difference.

“I know a bit, as well,” she told him, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “I wanted it to be like a secret language between me and my mom, but even when I had learned, it seemed we didn’t have much to talk about, let alone secrets to tell each other.”