Page 52 of Bonfire and Bliss Bookstore

“This isn’t about me,” she says with a forced smile. “Remember we’re doing this for you.”

The bell jangles before I have a chance to answer and Penny’s head snaps up to look to the door. “Welcome to Bonfire and Bliss Books!” she calls as she prepares to stand up.

I shake my head. “I’ll go. You finish your dinner.”

“But what if they’re looking for a specific trope?”

I chuckle. “Then it’s a good thing you just told me how everything is organized.”

I round the corner to serve the customer who, fortunately, is not looking for a specific trope, and knows precisely where the book she wants is located.

Unfortunately, however, I don’t know how to work the register.

“If you’ll just give me a minute,” I say, staring at the screen, trying to figure out how to work it. “I just need to go and grab my girlfriend.”

I turn to call out for Penny but she’s already walking in our direction. She greets the customer by name, and then blushes when the girl says she didn’t realize Penny had a boyfriend.

When we’re alone again and seated back at the table, Penny stares down at her feet with a serious expression. “We probably need nicknames.”

“Nicknames?”

“Yeah.” Penny nods. “All good book boyfriends give their girlfriend a nickname. Baby, sweetheart, red.” She says the last one with an edge and I get the feeling she liked whatever book had that in it. I make a mental note to figure out what it’s called.

“What about pumpkin?”

Her lips twist into a grin. “I know you’re probably suggesting it because I’m basic like that—and don’t make fun of me—but pumpkin is my favorite nickname.”

I return her smile. “Yeah?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

I swipe a hand at my mouth and realize she’s right—I’m grinning like a damn fool. “Because that’s what I’ve always called you.”

Confusion creeps across her face. “What?”

“Xuxuzinho. What did you think that meant?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, like honey or something. Figured it was just something you called all the girls.”

I shake my head and a chuckle slips out. I should be embarrassed to admit it, should worry that she’ll see right through me, but I can’t lie to her. “I’ve never called anyone else that.”

“What does it mean?”

“Sweet pumpkin,” I murmur.

Her eyes widen and her breath hitches. “What?”

“Xuxuzinho means ‘sweet pumpkin’ in Brazilian.”

“But you’ve been calling me that since—” She shakes her head as if trying to remember.

“Junior year, homeroom.” Back when I still believed in love and thought Penny was the definition of it personified. Before life showed me that nothing lasts, least of all love. Still, it’s nice to think back on the memories. “That’s when I discovered you smelled like pumpkin even in the spring.”

Penny tries to hide her face behind her hands. “Oh God.”

Chuckling, I reach across the table and tug on her hand so that she looks right at me. “I loved it. Since then, the smell has always reminded me of home. Anyway,” I say quickly, “if you’d prefer me to use pumpkin in front of everyone, I can.”

“No,” she whispers.