35. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
S tone stood on the rooftop, his eyes sweeping over the dimly lit space around him. The soft glow of the garden lights cast long shadows, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. He checked the time again and then reread the message he had sent Sophie. He would like to think it was unlike her to leave him hanging.
But how in the hell would he know that, considering they hadn’t dated…yet?
Here he was, ready to declare his love, and he’d never even asked her on an official date. The ludicrousness of it all formed a new knot of worry in his chest, tightening with every passing minute.
Clarabelle, who’d called him as soon as she’d gotten word the auction was over, had assured him it was all very romantic. The kind of thing movies were made of, or books were written about.
According to her, falling in love with your client was an age-old romance trope, and Sophie adored tropes.
According to Clarabelle, Sophie would see the magic in the whole situation.
Unfortunately, it appeared Clarabelle was wrong. Sophie wouldn’t even meet with him to hear a secret she’d paid a million dollars to obtain.
The thought of trying to sleep was out.
The idea of going to work tomorrow and telling his brothers that he’d been blown off was repugnant.
The thought of never telling Sophie he loved her and wanted to spend his life with her was…not an option.
If ever there was a time for a backup plan, it was now.
With a determined nod, he pocketed his phone and headed back to the elevator.
If the professional daydreamer wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to her. No more waiting around, hoping fate would cut him a break. He’d march straight to her apartment and lay it all on the line—starting with his secret life as a fairy godfather.
If that went well, or even if it didn’t, he’d bare his soul and tell her he loved her.
And if that went well, or even if it didn’t, he’d ask her to be his girlfriend and allow him the honor of earning her love.
Somewhere in this emotional rollercoaster, he’d pitch her the idea of becoming a fairytale coordinator for him and his brothers. It sounded ridiculous, but with Sophie, ridiculous had a way of turning magical.
Or maybe he should start with the love confession. Then drop the fairy godfather bombshell. And then… No. Hell. He needed to scrap the script, embrace the chaos, and, for the first time in his life, do things Sophie’s way—wing it.
The cab ride to her apartment was a blur as his mind raced with thoughts of Sophie and their stilted conversation at the auction, and the myriads of expressions she’d shown him while bidding. Not one of them had been happy.
If those thoughts weren’t heavy enough, he also worried about what if she didn’t take his fairy godfather revelation well, and what if she didn’t love him back?
He shook off the doubts. Tonight, he’d let go of control and leap into the unknown, heart first.
“You getting out, or what?” the cabbie said, cutting through his swirling what-ifs like a bullet through a bad guy.
Stone glanced at the exterior of her brick-faced building. Tall, narrow windows with white trim gave the building a quaint, almost storybook appearance…which suited Sophie to a capital T.
Inside that building was where he’d donned his first book boyfriend T-shirt. It’s where he’d first kissed Sophie. It’s where he’d met Poppie. It’s where he’d fallen in love.
“Thanks for the lift,” Stone said, hopping out of the cab.
The driver grunted and pulled away, tires squealing slightly on the asphalt.
Stone stepped inside the building and made his way to Sophie’s front door. She’d changed the sign. Now it read: Dreams do come true. Knock for your fairytale ending.
If he and Sophie were to get married, what would their front door sign say? “Not if. When,” he corrected his thoughts. After all, a man had to have hope before going into battle.
He rapped his knuckles against the door. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway, and he winced, not wanting to wake up Poppie. When she didn’t answer, he knocked again. He waited, ears straining for any sign of movement from within. He glanced at his watch. After one a.m. Surely, she was home by now. Unless she wasn’t coming home.
When the door suddenly opened, relief flooded him. Not that it lasted long. One look at her frown made sure of that.
“Stone?” Her voice hinted that the frown on her face wasn’t a sign of confusion, but rather one of displeasure. “What are you doing here?”
He forced a smile. “I hear this is where one comes when they’re looking for their very own fairytale ending.”
When her brows creased, he pointed to the sign on her door.
“Oh. That.” She opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Come in before you wake up Poppie and get his hopes firing in directions that won’t pan out.”
Did that mean Poppie was rooting for him? Stone’s heart gave a hopeful leap. “I texted you,” he said, following her into the familiar warmth of her apartment.
“I haven’t looked at my phone since leaving for the ball,” Sophie replied over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen and flipped on the light. “What did you want that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the moment he had been dreading and anticipating in equal measure. “There’s something I need to tell you, Sophie.”
“Yes, I know. The secret. Considering how much I paid for it, I feel wine is in order,” she said, sounding wary.
“It’s not a bad secret,” he assured her, hating that he’d made Sophie E. Clark—Professional Daydreamer—afraid to hope for a grand secret.
“Good to know.” Sophie rummaged through several bottles before she grabbed a bottle of merlot out of the refrigerator, popped the cork, and poured two goblets. She handed him one. He resisted the urge to mention red wine was best served at slightly cooler than room temperature. Around sixty-six degrees. If she liked it cold, who was he to criticize.
Taking the glass, he cataloged the moment. The saying on her sleep shirt: Daydream Enabler . The heady fragrance of her skin after a shower: peaches and cream. The tightness in her lips right before she took her first sip of wine. Her lusty sigh of appreciation for the cheap, chilled vintage whose label read, Fairytale Celebration.
“Okay,” she said, walking over to the window. “I’m listening.” She turned and leaned against the frame.
“Maybe we should sit.” He motioned to the couch. He’d had it delivered after they had split, with explicit instructions to the delivery team that if she tried to bully them into taking it back with them, they were to make excuses as to why that wasn’t possible. It looked nice in her tiny apartment.
After a moment of hesitation, Sophie sat, and he sat next to her, their knees touching as they turned to look at one another. The lights flickered. Why had that happened? Was the spell Clarabelle had cast on him weakening?
“There’s no easy way to say this without it coming as a shock,” he began, reaching for her hands. Thunder boomed in the distance. “I’m about to tell you a secret I thought I’d take to my grave.”
“To your grave?” Sophie yanked her hands out of his, clearly taken aback. “You said it wasn’t a bad secret.”
“Not bad.” He reached for her hands again. “Sophie, I’m a bona fide Fairy Godfather.”
Lightning was quickly followed by a loud clap of thunder, and then the lights went dark, preventing him from seeing her reaction.
“Damn.” He quickly retrieved his phone, turned on its flashlight feature, and aimed it at her face.
Her eyes were wide, and her mouth open. “Define bona fide?” she squeaked.
“I have a wand.” He waited for the shock to wear off. When it did, he breathed a little easier.
A look of pure enchantment filtered over Sophie’s face. “Tell me everything.”
The lights came back on.
He finished his wine and set the goblet down. “When individuals wish for a fairy godmother and one isn’t available, the wish is passed to me and my brothers. They’re also fairy godfathers.”
A laugh burst from her, startling him.
“Ha,” she exclaimed. “You had me for a moment. Tell me the real secret. Spit it out. Let’s get this over with.”
This reaction, he understood. He’d expected disbelief. Who in their right mind would accept his words at face value? “I know it sounds farfetched, but I’m not lying.”
She frowned. “Of course you’re lying. You don’t have an ounce of whimsy in your little finger. There’s no way you’re a Fairy Godfather.”
He tensed. Was this the beginning of the end? Would she refuse to believe? Tell him to leave? “And yet, I am.”
Emotions flashed across her face, the last one a mix of anger and hurt. “But you’ve done nothing but make fun of me for chasing my fairytale ending.”
“In the beginning, I did. But then…” He trailed off. It wasn’t time to admit she’d won him over and he’d fallen hard for every part of her. That there wasn’t a thing about her he’d change.
“But then what?” she persisted, anger still evident in her voice.
Sweat broke out on his brow. She had every right to be mad. Hell, to send his sorry ass packing. It was time to be humble. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“I don’t know.” She scrubbed at a tear that had fallen on her cheek.
He held very still—afraid the wrong movement would make up her mind in a negative fashion—and forced himself to wait.
A lifetime later, she gave him a watery smile. “Tell me more about your being a Fairy Godfather.”
He wiped the sweat from his brow and relaxed. “When we were little, we were bounced around from foster home to foster home. Then, one night, we overheard them talking about separating us because no one wanted to take on three boys. Unbeknownst to me, one of my brothers wished for a fairy godmother that evening.”
“How old was he?” she asked.
“Five.”
“That makes sense.”
“Anyway, his wish was granted, and we were sent to a new foster home. To Clarabelle’s home. A home we never had to leave because she adopted us…”
“And?” As if she were reliving history with him, another tear slipped down her cheek.
“Clarabelle was a fairy godmother.” He left out the part about her new title including the word ghost . She was a fairy godmother ghost. Clarabelle now lived in the second veil in Harmony, Missouri.
Then again, why leave out that part? If fairy godfathers could be real, so could ghosts. And if he and Sophie were to have a chance at making their relationship work, he had to be transparent.
“Was?” Sophie asked, reaching out and taking his hands.
“She’s dead now,” Stone admitted.
“And?”
“When she died, she had unfinished business. And when that happens, Magicals have a system where they can ask for time to finish their business before crossing over.”
“That’s a nice perk,” she said.
He nodded. “Her unfinished business was to tell her boys of her true identity. Once she did that, instead of crossing over, she somehow talked the powers-that-be in the second veil into letting her hang out there so she could run us through fairy godmother boot camp. A task we had to complete to earn our wands.”
“There’s a fairy godmother boot camp?” Sophie asked, jumping up and walking to the window again. “What does one do at this camp?” She turned to look at him.
“She trained us on how to help those in need.” He resisted the urge to go to her, sensing she needed space. “And how to use our wands to conjure up the things our clients wished for.”
“Let me get this straight. Your secret is to tell me you’re a fairy godfather, you have a wand, you can conjure things, and your mom is a ghost?”
He swallowed hard. “That about sums it up.”
“About?” Her eyes bulged. “What did you leave out?”
“Part of our becoming fairy godfathers was our promise that for every case we take to retrieve a kidnapped child, we would match it by completing a fairy godmother wish.” In the beginning, the wishes had been simple. A pony. Long hair. Learning to ride a bike without training wheels. But lately, they’d become more convoluted.
“I once asked for a fairy godmother,” Sophie said sadly. “I wanted to go to heaven and be with my parents. I never got one.”
Fuck. “Yours wasn’t a wish they could grant. They only respond to ones they can. And even then, not all wishes are granted.”
“Why not?”
“Because fairy godmothers are in short supply. That’s why Clarabelle was able to get it approved to start a fairy godfather branch. It was either that, or those children whose doable requests went unanswered would continue to be disappointed, and the more that happened, the fewer and fewer who would believe, and that would eventually cause the demise of fairy godmothers.”
Sophie’s eyes softened, and she looked at him with a mixture of understanding and lingering sadness. “So, it’s not just about granting wishes. It’s about keeping the magic alive?”
“Exactly,” Stone said, relieved that she was starting to grasp the bigger picture. “We’re doing our best to keep the belief in magic strong, to make sure that kids don’t lose hope. It’s a delicate balance.”
She walked back to the couch and sat down, her expression contemplative. “Where’s your wand? Can I see it?”
“Soon. This brings me to the next part of my reason for being here.”
“Never in my thirty-two years,” Sophie said with a bemused smile, “did I ever think a day would come when I heard myself say this, but here I go… This secret has been worth every penny of that million-dollar bid I made.”
He laughed. Her enthusiasm was endearing. “Back to your question about my wand. You see, after the accident, my magic started glitching, which made me a danger in the field.”
She frowned. “How was your wand damaged?”
“A bullet caught it and grazed my finger.”
She went white. “A bullet. You take fairy godfather cases where bullets fly?”
He shook his head. “No. At least, we’ve never been given one where that was necessary. But we’re allowed to use our wands in our retrieval of kidnapped children cases. By doing so, we practically eliminate the danger to the children. But on this particular night, right as I was casting a spell over the kidnapper, a child emerged we hadn’t known was in the house. I was distracted, and my inattention gave the bad guy enough time to fire off a round before I could spell his gun.”
“Was the child hurt?”
“No. Everything turned out okay, but my wand took a bullet, and my finger was grazed by the incident. As a result, my magic started glitching.”
“What does glitchy magic look like? I mean, does your wand droop or something when you’re spinning it?”
“I can say, ‘turn those boots into stilettos,’ and it turns the boots into a loaf of bread.”
“Oh. I could see how that would be unimpressive to a child expecting big things out of you as their fairy godfather.”
“Anyway, my wand hasn’t been the same since.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I feel like there’s more to the story than that. What aren’t you saying?”
“It’s been discovered that during the injury, magic from the wand leaked into me.”
Sophie’s eyes widened, her curiosity palpable. “What does that mean?”
“It means I now have some level of magic within me, independent of the wand. It’s unpredictable and, at times, uncontrollable.”
“Well, doesn’t that just sound delightful?” She went back to pacing, her steps quick and purposeful.
Stone watched her in fascination. “I’m glad you feel that way because all the thunder, lightning, rain, freaky blinking lights… Those were all caused as a result of our interaction. It appears that every time you and I touched, my magic either seeped into you or you sucked it out of me. Or you are a sleeping Magical finally awakening.”
She swirled around and came to him, eyes wide with realization. “Are you saying—” She stopped talking, twirled her pointer finger in the air, then pointed it at him and said, “Jazam.”
He startled, taking a step back. “Whoa. Whoa. Let’s not try casting spells without instruction. That’s what boot camp is for. You do or say the wrong thing, and I’ll be a toad.”
She laughed, the sound musical and light, and tucked her finger into the waistband of her pajama shorts.
“I take it you’re okay with everything I’ve told you tonight?” The question was rhetorical. It was obvious she was. He couldn’t believe he’d ever been the dumb fuck who’d compared her to his last girlfriend and kept her at arm’s length as a result. The two women were nothing alike. Of course Sophie would be thrilled to learn her boyfriend was a fairy godfather. She was Sophie E. fucking Clark. Believer in book boyfriends coming to life.
“Who wouldn’t be?” Sophie enthused. “This is the best news ever. Like nothing you could say next would trump everything you’ve said so far.”
Well, fuck. He should have started with “I love you.” Saying it now would be the pure definition of anticlimactic. “Thank you for being so perfect for me.”
She gave him a funny look. “Let’s talk about that statement.” Her voice was soft but firm. “Are you, or are you not, still a bachelor for life? And if not, what changed?”
“After you and I had our parting of ways, I was a mess.”
“You’re the one who kicked me to the curb. Why were you a mess?”
“Because I love you.” Admitting it felt like a weight lifting off his chest and crashing down all at once. The vulnerability was terrifying, but it also felt undeniably right. He quickly continued, not giving her time to respond. “And I’d convinced myself that you were better off never knowing that. Not to mention, I’d made promises to my brothers I couldn’t break. Loving you was inevitable, but acting on it would have been selfish.” He stopped talking and waited for her to say I love you, too .
“Did you think I couldn’t handle the fact you were a fairy godfather?”
He snorted. Yep. He should have led with I love you. Now, it didn’t even garner a nod, a smirk, or a single flutter of her eyelashes. “By then, I knew you could. But as I told you before, I couldn’t handle the idea of your life being in danger because of me.”
“What’s changed? You’re here. You’ve told me you love me. You’ve told me your secret. Why? Are you getting out of security?” she asked in a no-nonsense tone.
There it was. The acknowledgement she’d heard his declaration. But still no sign of excitement. “Not that.”
“Then you’ve decided to treat me like an adult and allow me to determine if I want to be in a relationship with a man who might get me killed? Or worse, break my heart by getting himself killed?”
His heart skipped a beat. Never that. Thank God that wasn’t still an issue. “A way has been discovered where I am free to be in love with you, free to chase you and date you until I’m worthy of you falling in love with me, and keep you safe from danger in the process.”
She grinned, and he breathed a little easier.
“You’re going to chase me?” she asked.
“I am,” he said solemnly. “And I expect you to play hard to get because you will be worth the chase.”
“Damn straight I am, and I will not be easy to catch. Of that, you can be certain,” she spouted without a second of hesitation. “But back to why you were finally able to tell me. What’s this big plan?”
“How would you like to be our Fairytale Coordinator?” he blurted, knowing full well this would get a way bigger reaction than his telling her he loved her had. Of course, he deserved her less-than-ecstatic response. He had meant it when he said he’d be happy to chase her and prove worthy of her love.
As he had predicted, she squealed and threw herself into his arms. “Yes. Yes. Absolutely yes.”
“But you don’t even know what that means yet.” He chuckled and pulled her into his embrace.
“It doesn’t matter. The title is perfection. The only thing better than growing up to be a professional daydreamer would be to grow up to be a Fairytale Coordinator. Oh, my God. So many doubters are going to have to kiss my derriere for sure now! I am going to create a T-shirt saying as much. I’ll wear it to my next class reunion.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, so he let it slide…for now. “You would help us with our fairy godfather assignments. Help us create the perfect experience for every request. You would be in charge of making sure we get all the details right. And in return, you’ll be under the protection of our magic. And, if you are Magical in your own right—which is a possibility—you will be taught how to use it.”
“Holy Book Boyfriend Day. Tell me more about that?” Her grin took up her whole face.
“It is Clarabelle’s strong belief that your mother was a Magical.”
She gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth, shaking her head as if finding this the thing she couldn’t accept as real. Slowly sliding her hands down and away from her lips, she whispered, “Like a fairy godmother?”
“Most likely…which would explain your mom’s message on your nursery wall.”
Sophie pivoted and headed toward the kitchen. “I’m going to need more wine,” she said over her shoulder. “I feel like I’ve won the lottery, hit the jackpot at the casino, and discovered a magic spell to bring my favorite book boyfriend to life.”
“The cinnamon roll one?” he asked, following her into the kitchen, acutely aware she hadn’t yet said how she felt about him.
She shook her head as she reached for the bottle.
“Then which one?” he asked, his mind racing through all the other types. “Which one of them from tonight would you choose if you could make one of them your own?” He held out his glass for a refill.
“I’d choose…none.”
“None?” he echoed. “Not even the one with a secret?”
“Nope.”
He studied her. “I see.”
“I don’t think you do, you big idiot. I’d choose you. The real you. You’re the perfect combination of all my favorite tropes. A little cinnamon, a little murky, a whole lot of delicious alpha yumminess.”
“In other words, I’m book boyfriend-ish?”
“Yes.”
“There’s one problem. Your description of me left out one part.” Stone inhaled deeply, prepared to give her his final secret.
“And that is?” she asked, taking a sip.
“Grumpy billionaire.”