Chapter 21
21
In the course of a few days, summer has turned to autumn. Schools started back this week and as I watch streams of uniformed children clutching brand new bags and trotting to school with their hands clutched by harried parents, I can’t help thinking of Ren and Ava. They both must be back in school now. My summer holiday visions of Ava coming here every afternoon when school finishes and Ren coming to pick her up and spending lazy autumnal evenings together have wilted like The Beast’s enchanted rose petals, but unlike a Disney fairytale, there’s no magical enchantress coming to cast a spell and undo all the damage that’s been done.
It’s suspiciously quiet on Ever After Street as I walk to work on Saturday morning. It’s always quiet in the lull between summer holidays and the rush of Christmas shoppers starting towards the end of next month. My shop is a few doors down from the bookshop and I wave to Marnie as I pass because she’s in her window, rearranging a display around her cat, and then I wave to Cleo and Bram, who are both in their windows, putting cakes out to tempt customers in. Oddly, Sadie is also in the window of The Cinderella Shop, putting a beautiful gown on a mannequin, and Franca and Raff have found something to fiddle with at the archway that separates Ever After Street from Christmas Ever After, and Imogen is standing at the doorway of the 1001 Nights restaurant, which doesn’t open until late afternoon, chatting to Ali, who is never in work at this time of day…
I stop and turn around, looking back the way I’ve come, and I get the feeling of walking down the street during a zombie apocalypse. Everything is menacingly quiet, curtains twitch when I glance in their direction, and there isn’t a customer in sight. The only thing that’s missing is an upturned car, a Hollywood hero running around, and the sound of distant sirens.
‘Hi.’
The scream I let out is so blood-curdling that it could definitely be associated with a zombie apocalypse, and I spin around in shock to see Ren waiting by the door of my shop… and on the street in front of him is the dragon fruit table.
There’s a chair on either side of it, and on the tabletop is a book, and a dragon fruit. An actual dragon fruit, on a plate, with a knife. ‘What the…?’
‘I owe you an apology.’ He glances behind him, and Ava appears from round the side of the shop, with Lissa behind her. ‘ We owe you an apology.’
Ava waves nervously and I wave back at her, and then my eyes flick to Lissa. ‘I thought you were going to punch him, not help him!’
‘I am. He’ll just never know when,’ she says cheerily and makes that ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at him this time. ‘In the meantime, maybe listen to what the man has to say. Come on, Ave, let’s give them a bit of privacy. Cleo’s going to open up early just for us. Anything you want is on the house.’
‘So you are all in on this then?’ I call after her as she leads Ava away, not expecting an answer because it’s obvious. I’ve worked on this street for years – not once have I seen so many shopkeepers find something vital to do in their windows in such perfect sync.
Ava glances back over her shoulder and I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. Whatever’s going on here, I want her to know that everything that happened last weekend is water under the bridge, if she wants it to be too.
Cleo’s waiting at the door of The Wonderland Teapot and I watch her open up and let them in, and then I watch all four of them pretend not to be looking at us, before I turn back to Ren. ‘What are you doing here? What is that doing here? I sold it on Thursday!’
‘You sold it to me. That was my mate from work. He’s a teacher in the art department. He only did it on the condition that he can borrow it sometime as a still-life subject for his students to draw.’
‘I knew there was something off about him! He said exactly what I said to you the first time you saw it!’ I’m absolutely delighted to see it again, and totally shocked by how much trouble Ren has gone to.
‘You didn’t tell him the story.’
‘There is no story,’ I mutter, because it’s long past time I stopped making up stories about the items in my shop and sold them as what they are, not what I want them to be.
‘Yeah, there is, and that’s what makes your shop so special. You . You make everything special because you see everything as special, and?—’
‘I thought I was a “mistake that should never have happened”,’ I interrupt by paraphrasing his words from last weekend, because hearing that is not something I can forget easily.
‘You’re not. Of course you’re not, and I’m getting to that part, but I don’t want you to stop believing in magic because I’m a creaky old curmudgeon who doesn’t get it.’
‘You get it, even if you pretend not to.’ His suitably guilty look makes me smile to myself. ‘I was devastated to see this table gone, and to sell it without being able to tell you, because I knew you secretly loved it.’
‘I do. From the moment I saw it – not because of it , but because of you. Because of what you see in it. Ava cleared a space for it in our front hallway because I want to be reminded of your approach to life every day, but I couldn’t just walk in and buy it after last weekend, I needed more time to put together a decent apology, hence the calling in of favours and a bit of hoop-jumping. Also, it’s very hard to find an actual dragon fruit. I feel like I’ve been on a week-long tour of Britain’s supermarkets.’
The thought makes me smile. Despite my love of the table and my curiosity about what a dragon fruit itself would taste like, it had never occurred to me to actually look for one, and I love that he’s made such a simple gesture into something truly special.
‘So what exactly is going on here?’ I wave a finger towards the rest of Ever After Street behind me without turning around to look because I’m certain that every shopkeeper will have given up the pretence of fixing their windows and just be overtly watching by now. ‘Why does everyone know?’
‘I was looking for insider intelligence on how much you might hate me and how much of a chance I might have. I only spoke to Lissa and Cleo, but word has apparently spread.’
I hate to tell him that that’s what words do on Ever After Street – they spread, because if this little community can find a way to help one of their own, they always do.
‘But that’s not the point.’ He checks his watch. ‘Right now, I figure I’ve got about ten minutes before customers start arriving, and there’s something I want you to read. It’s not as interesting nor as historically important as the first diary, but it’s written by someone who is almost as incapable of saying the things he should say at the times he should say them, so I’m going to take a lesson from our mermaid – shut up and let written words speak where my spoken ones so often fail.’
He nudges the book on the table towards me. It’s a leather-bound notebook with an old-fashioned look and a gorgeous smell of vintage paper to it.
I open the cover, and on the first page are the words:
Diary of a modern-day history teacher who wouldn’t know a good thing if it smacked him in the face.
An unexpected giggle escapes and I look up at him, but he refuses to meet my eyes, and I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. ‘You’ve written me a diary?’
Instead of nodding, he holds a hand out towards the chair, inviting me to sit down, and I realise that he’s right about the time, and if customers are likely to come along shortly, this seems like something I would rather read without Mrs Moreno’s cat’s bladder issues coming into it.
Given the two chairs, I thought he might sit opposite me, but he paces, wringing his hands together. He was doing a good job of covering his nerves until now, but they’re suddenly so tangible that it makes my heart pound faster as I sit down, wondering what on earth he could have written that would make him so nervous.
I start reading his account of this summer, the first two diary entries recounting the first days he and Ava came into the shop, a handwritten apology for his initial insults and rudeness, but I’m struggling to concentrate because he’s pacing so much, but there’s something else. While it’s a nice gesture and a thoughtful throwback to the thing that brought us together, it feels a bit impersonal and cold too. ‘Isn’t this a bit… detached?’
He stops pacing to look at me. ‘I thought it was a sentimental touch. You loved reading Mayme’s diary.’
‘Mayme isn’t here to tell us her thoughts in person. You are. I know you aren’t particularly good at dealing with feelings, but why do I want to read this on a page when you’re standing right in front of me? If you have something to say, say it.’
‘Not giving me the easy way out, huh?’
‘No. Why should I? You were way out of line the other day. You said some really horrible things that were undeserved. I’m not sure why you’ve gone to all this trouble today, but if this is an apology, or an explanation, explain it to me.’ I look up at him expectantly, trying not to show that I’m really touched by this gesture, even if I do think he needs to work a bit harder and get a bit more personal too.
‘But that would mean ugly, messy feelings…’
‘Yes, exactly. And exactly the example you should be setting for Ava. Sometimes feelings are messy and you can’t keep them all in a nice, neat notebook, even if I do appreciate the displaced romance you were aiming for.’
‘I knew you were going to do that.’ He nods to me as I close the book. ‘I knew you were going to say that.’ He paces a few more times, and then finally slumps into the seat opposite me.
‘What does it say?’ I push him to elaborate when I start to get the feeling that we could sit here all week and he still wouldn’t have found the right words for whatever it is that he’s trying to say.
‘The first one says I was an arse on the day we came into your shop.’
‘I know, I read that part.’
He sighs. ‘It says something changed in me when we hugged in the café. That hug untethered something inside of me and made me feel like a boat rocking on a stormy sea when I’d spent years trying to keep every water as calm as possible, and how I couldn’t get you out of my head. And when I came to start decluttering, I felt lighter than I had in years. Talking to you was like a metaphorical weight being lifted off my shoulders. It’s about how you can see right inside me, how I really wanted you to know why I’m like I am, and how long it had been since I wanted anyone to know anything about me, but you made everything feel different, and opening up to you was eas—’ He hesitates. His eyes flick to mine and then he looks away again. ‘Well, it wasn’t easy , but it did feel natural and right, and it had been a long time since anything felt right in my life.’
He’s twisting his fingers together and deliberately avoiding eye contact, and I stretch my leg until I can push at his boot with my toe, trying to prod him into carrying on. I know he’s trying to apologise for the other day, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying his discomfort just the teeniest little bit.
‘It goes on to mention the argument we had and the night on the riverbank.’ He pushes out a long breath and seems to steel himself. ‘I fell in love with you that night.’
I don’t even try to hide the intake of breath at the surprise of him saying it so openly. I didn’t expect him to lay himself quite this bare, and he carries on quickly, like he’s trying to make sure nothing derails his determination to get it all out there.
‘You’re the most affectionate and open person I’ve ever met. That night, you stroked my hair, kissed my cheek, gave me the best hug of my life, and I fell in love with you. My heart felt like it had increased in size. The next morning, I kept touching my cheek because I could still feel the imprint of your lips. I felt giddy and joyful and I ran away because I could see life being wonderful again, and I wasn’t ready to really believe it yet.’
I can feel my own heart increasing in size because there’s something truly special about hearing him candidly say what I thought was happening at the time, but was never sure if I was reading the situation quite right.
‘…If it makes you cry, maybe it’s not a good thing?’
I sniffle and swipe away tears that I hadn’t realised were rolling down my cheeks. because I’ve been so consumed by his words that everything else has ceased to exist. It’s so impactful to hear him say it so frankly, and to know that somewhere in this book I’m still caressing, he’s written it in permanent ink on white paper. A fact. Something that will last forever, like Mayme’s diary. What felt like an easy way out earlier has suddenly become by far the most thoughtful and heartfelt thing anyone’s ever done for me. The idea he’s taken inspiration from a diary he never believed in and used it to give me his perspective on the summer we’ve spent together is illuminating and moving. I want to get up and hug him, but I don’t want to move a millimetre in case he clams up again.
‘You must’ve known,’ he says gently. ‘Everything changed in me. I could suddenly believe in the impossible. By the time we went to Wales, I could barely keep my hands off you, and I know you knew I was holding back, trying to cling onto my sensible side, and then we kissed, and every doubt I’d had went up in flames. I didn’t need to write that bit down, you already know it.’
‘I thought I knew a lot of things… until last weekend.’
He lets out a low groan. ‘The kind of weekend I would rather erase from my mind completely than put anything about it down on paper to be remembered for all eternity?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ He shakes his head. ‘That doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’m more than sorry. I wouldn’t blame you for never wanting to see me again, and if that is the outcome today, that’s fine, I deserve it. You did the right thing in returning the diary, of course you did, but Ava was so distraught and I was out of my depth in consoling her. She feels like no one is ever on her side. People forget how isolating it is to be a kid in a world of adults, even when they’re nice adults who go out of their way to include you, you still feel like a different species. And I had to support her, especially when she was so worked up. I couldn’t make her feel even more isolated, like even her own father doesn’t care about her feelings. You understand that, right?’ His index finger scratches at an invisible pattern on the table in front of him.
‘Yeah, of course I do, but it shouldn’t have been about taking sides. There were no sides to take. The three of us got that diary back to where it belonged, it should have been a moment to celebrate, even though it’s always bittersweet to say goodbye to something that’s brought you joy, the most important part is that someone was missing it and we helped them get it back.’
‘It’s easy to say that now , with hindsight, and without a teenager having a meltdown, but in that moment, I overreacted. I should have given us space and a chance to talk things through afterwards, but I’d been waiting for everything to go wrong between us – because that’s what relationships always do in my life – and rather than fighting it, I accepted that the inevitable ending had come sooner rather than later. I did what I usually do – curled myself into a defensive ball and fired venom in your direction like an angry, hissing cobra.’
‘Yes, you did.’ I fold my arms, feeling uncomfortably prickly about last weekend. I know he was out of his depth and he overreacted, I know he does that, but it’s not easy to forget being on the receiving end of that defensiveness.
‘Mick, I’m so sorry. I said so many things I shouldn’t have said. I should never have called you a mistake when you are, quite literally, the best thing to ever happen to me. I’m embarrassed by how far below the belt I went. I was rude, cruel, and the worst version of myself I could have possibly been. You’ve changed our lives this summer, and you didn’t deserve any of that from either of us. Ava’s written an entry too.’ He nods to the diary. ‘At least read that one. It took her a long time to work out what to say and she knew it would probably come across better on paper than in words from a sulky, shouty teenager.’
I open the book and let my fingers trail across the pages until I find the one that changes from neat, uniform lettering in black ink to young handwriting in pink pen that’s dotted with hearts and stars.
I’m so sorry, Mickey. I ruined everything. I didn’t mean anything I said. I knew the diary didn’t belong to us, not really, but I didn’t expect its rightful owner to come and for it to just be gone. I thought I’d get to keep it and read it forever, and Dad says I needed time to adjust to the idea of letting it go, but it all happened so quickly.
The diary doesn’t matter. This has been the best summer we’ve ever had, but it wasn’t because of the diary – it was because we met you and spent so much time together. You’ve made me realise it’s okay to be myself, and I hope you’ll forgive me because I’m a real cow sometimes, and I’m sorry.
Dad’s sooo sad without you. Please don’t push him away because of me and make him go back to being miserable and mopey.
Oh, he’s shouting, ‘Ava, don’t write that!’
The entry ends with a squiggle where it looks like the pen has been taken out of her hand, and I make a noise that’s somewhere between a snort, a giggle, and a sob. The next entry changes back to Ren’s handwriting and I go to start reading it, but he reaches over and gently closes the book.
His hand stays on my side of the table and he takes another deep breath and turns his palm up, inviting me to slip mine into it, and when I do, his shoulders physically drop in relief.
‘When I walked into your shop in July, I was a tightly sprung angry ball, full of fear and frustration that was whirling around inside me and screaming to get out. You are the only person who’s ever heard all of my fears without a word being spoken. You’re the only person who’s ever understood my frustration without me having to bungle an explanation. You’re certainly the only one who’s ever been able to start unravelling my thoughts by running your fingers through my hair, and you’ve changed me this summer. I shouldn’t have acted like I did last weekend. I shouldn’t have walked away just because Ava was upset. You are both the most important people in the world to me, you were both upset, and I should have found a way to navigate that rather than shutting down.’
He hesitates, like he’s expecting me to chime in with an agreement, but I stay quiet because it takes a lot to be this honest, and he deserves a little credit for that, and for all the effort he’s gone to today.
‘Since July, I feel like a sailor enchanted by a mermaid’s song, and I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance because I am completely, hopelessly, and utterly in love with you. You once said that we never own anything in this world, nothing is truly ours, but I am the exception to that rule. You’ve owned a piece of my heart since the moment I saw you. And despite how much I’ve criticised you for it, now I’m hoping you might recognise Ava and me for the lost and unwanted things we are and see fit to help us find a place where we belong again.’
I’d managed to stem the flow of tears for a few minutes but they’re falling freely again and he squeezes my hand tightly and wordlessly reaches over with his other hand and holds out a tissue, but instead of the tears of sorrow they’ve been for the rest of the week, this time, they’re tears of happiness that we still have a chance.
I know what it takes for him to say that. To open himself up enough to share these feelings with me when he knows all too well how vulnerable you become when you let someone know you love them, and that he cared enough to make himself that vulnerable, for me.
Suddenly, holding his hand is nowhere near enough, no matter how many people are watching. I get up and pull him to his feet too, and reach up until I can slide my arms around his neck and pull him down for a hug.
He makes a noise of surprise and it takes a moment for him to realise what’s happening, and then he lets out a sigh and curls around me, his body enveloping mine and holding on tightly. My hair is in a messy bun at the back of my head and his hand tangles in it and pulls me closer as he buries his face in my shoulder.
‘I didn’t expect that.’ He sounds as exhausted by this week as I feel. The juxtaposition of missing him so much and being so hurt by his words last weekend has been like a physical weight pressing down on me, and this hug is making it start to lift.
‘You’re well within your rights to tell me to sod off. I said some awful things the other day and I’m sorry.’
‘I’m sorry too. I’ve never witnessed a teenage meltdown before and I could definitely have handled it better.’
He pulls back and cups my face, brushing his thumb along my jaw. ‘It’s safe to say that all three of us could have handled last Sunday a lot better.’
I think he’s going to lean down to kiss me. His eyes flick to my mouth and back again, but he pulls away before going through with it.
I slide my hand over his forearm and pull him back towards the chair he’s just got out of, ones that I’m fairly sure he’s borrowed from the Colours of the Wind museum, and I sit down again too. ‘You really mean everything you just said?’
Instead of answering, he reaches across the table and squeezes my hand until I look up at him, and he holds my gaze, and I realise what he’s doing. He’s letting me see every feeling he’s just spoken so openly about. Emotions blaze though his beautiful blue eyes, and I know he is absolutely laid bare and he’s trusting me not to hurt him.
‘Oh, Ren…’ I murmur, squeezing his hand so tightly that it must be painful. ‘And Ava? She’s okay with this? With us ?’
‘You have no idea how angry she was at me when she realised I’d ended things because of her. She’s been threatening me all week, and just so you know, thirteen-year-olds are really creative when it comes to the threats they can make. You have to wonder where they learn these things.’
‘I blame the parents – or the teachers.’
He laughs and then jiggles my hand, making me look at him again. ‘Ava is incredibly sorry too. I was tossing and turning that night and she came into my room in tears because of what she’d said to you. She wanted to come and apologise the next day but I got this stupid idea and made her let me run with it.’
‘And what about going forwards? I can’t do this if you’re going to break up with me every time Ava and I disagree about something. She’s a young woman with her own opinions and values – this is unlikely to be the last time we’ll ever clash.’
‘Well, let’s face it, Ava’s thirteen. Things are only going to get worse from here on out. But I can say one thing – I never want to feel like I’ve felt this week ever again. I feel like my heart has been ripped out and trodden into the gravel we were standing on the other day. I even had a, “What’s wrong with you, sir?” in class the other day. With everything with my ex, I prided myself on never showing it, never sharing it with anyone, never letting it affect me externally, but with you… I can’t stop thinking about you and replaying last weekend and how I should have reacted differently. I’ve been a wreck this week.’
‘So have I. I sobbed over that damn table being sold.’
He smiles, even though he probably knows full well it’s not the first item I’ve cried over and it probably won’t be the last.
‘I don’t want you to just be my girlfriend. I want you to be part of me. You are not someone I can walk away from. You’re not disposable. Ava understands that too. If we’re in this, we’re in it for the long haul, all three of us. There will be arguments, disagreements, an unreasonable amount of sulking and door-slamming… and I’m not sure what she’ll do, but probably worse.’
I laugh, appreciating his attempt at lightening the mood.
‘But the one thing I do know is that I want you beside me. You make me see things in a different way, and Ava needs that. You bring joy and magic and love back into our lives and we both need that. So let’s toast to it with a dragon fruit, which seemed like the most appropriate choice. You said you’d never tried one and I haven’t either, but someone obviously loves the things.’ He presses the toe of his boot against the base of the table. ‘So they must be pretty good. To trying new things.’
‘To finding someone who makes trying new things exciting rather than terrifying.’
‘Exactly.’ He slices the dragon fruit into quarters and offers me one. We each peel the skin off and hold up the soft white flesh full of black seeds and we clink them together like the finest champagne glasses, and then take a bite.
‘Wow, that’s…’ he says around a mouthful.
I can feel my face screwing up in revulsion. ‘Is that ripe?’
‘I don’t know. I never thought to check how you find out. Surely it’s not meant to taste like that?’
The street is filled with our noises of disgust. Thankfully he thought to bring napkins so we can both spit out the offending fruit and deposit it in the nearest bin.
‘Well, the thought was there.’ I brush my hands off, even though it will take more than that to get rid of that particular taste. ‘The metaphor about trying new things was a good one, just maybe not an unripe dragon fruit next time…’
‘Maybe people should just stick to making tables in their likeness. On the plus side, it does mean your story is definitively untrue, because no one, and I do mean no one , would like this thing so much that they’d require a table made in its likeness.’
I burst out laughing and it’s such a huge laugh of relief and I feel the weight that I didn’t realise I’d been carrying all week floating away like airy balloons.
Ren gets to his feet and holds out a hand to pull me up and slips an arm around my waist. ‘I’m not sure if I should be asking your forgiveness for my behaviour last week or for making you eat that. That was truly offensive.’
‘You know what, it wasn’t the worst experience I’ve ever had.’ I lean back in his arms and reach up and stroke his hair back and when his eyes drift closed, I push myself up on tiptoes until I can touch my lips to his cheek. ‘Mainly because it was with you. You have a way of making everything better than it is.’
‘Ditto.’ His eyes spring open and a smile spreads slowly across his face, making the sexiest little lines crinkle up under his eyes, and his eyebrows quirk in a way that asks silent permission before lowering his lips to mine.
It’s a pressing, crushing kiss this time, that releases all the anguish of the past week and explodes, like a firework bursting in the sky, and then it turns gentle, a kiss that represents a mutual sigh of relief as the pretty colours float back down to earth, and it takes a long, long time until I feel like my feet have touched the ground again.
In fact, the only thing that makes me remember where we are is the sound of whooping and cheering from the shops on Ever After Street.
There’s a clatter as The Wonderland Teapot door bursts open and Ava comes dashing across to us and throws her arms around me with such force that it nearly knocks me over and the momentum sends us both crashing into Ren.
I return her hug with just as much enthusiasm, thrilled to bits that she’s okay and willing to move on after last week.
‘I’m so sorry, Mickey, I was so horrible to you. I didn’t mean anything I said.’
‘It’s okay.’ I squeeze her even tighter. ‘It was an uncharted situation and we both could’ve done better at it. Friends?’
I pull back and offer her my hand to shake, which she does and then pulls me into another hug. Her hair colour is fading already and I think we might have a battle on our hands to persuade Ren to let her get it done again during term time.
‘I saw you k-i-s-s-i-n-g,’ she sing-songs when she pulls back. ‘You two are sooooo in love!’
‘You know this doesn’t change anything, right?’ I say, because this is uncharted territory to me and I’m not sure how to handle it. ‘I’m not going to try to be your mum or anything.’
‘I don’t want a new mum, I’ve got more than enough parental challenges to handle with my dad, but I have always wanted a really cool older sister…’ She motions for me to come closer so she can whisper to me. ‘Can you persuade him to let me get a puppy?’
‘I heard that!’ Ren says with an indignant laugh.
He looks so blissfully happy and as intoxicated as if the single bite of dragon fruit had been half a bottle of wine, and I’m filled with a rush of love. ‘To be honest, he owes me for that dragon fruit, we could probably go for a puppy and a pony right now.’
He’s laughing as he holds my gaze. ‘It’s a good job I love you.’
‘I love you.’ I stand back upright as I realise what I’ve said. It’s the first time in so many years that I’ve said those words in a romantic way, but it feels so very, very right, and the butterflies that burst into existence when he clonked his head on a Victorian birdcage all those weeks ago are still alive and well and living their best life inside me.
‘I love you too, Mickey. And you, Dad, even though you’re my history teacher and you’re sooooo embarrassing. Apart from today. Today you did good because you got Mickey back for us.’
I’m wiping tears from my eyes while giggling at the same time. ‘How am I supposed to work after this? I’m an emotional wreck!’
‘We can help, right, Dad? This means I can come and help every day, right?’ Ava dances over to touch the blue scales of the mermaid’s tail statue outside my shop window. ‘I’m sorry the diary wasn’t written by a real mermaid. I wish she really had been.’
‘Me too, but it’s okay. The diary brought us together, and maybe that was its real purpose. We’ve still got plenty of time to find proof that mermaids may once have existed.’
‘Oh, nooo ,’ Ren groans jokingly, but in a probably- not -joking way.
‘Maybe mermaids live not just in stories, but in the hearts of every person who stands on the shore and looks out at the ocean, wondering what might be out there, and that’s all they were ever meant to be.’ I grin at them both. ‘And who knows, maybe one day, we will find proof that those stories are real.’
Ava squeals her agreement, and Ren puts his arms around us both and turns his head to murmur the words against my hair. ‘I love this place.’
I’m not sure if he means Ever After Street or being between the two of us, but I agree on both counts. I love my place on this fairytale little street and I love these two gorgeous humans I’m lucky enough to call my own.
They say mermaids sing songs to find love, and somehow I managed to find it with a little help from a lighthouse keeper of so many years ago, who proves that, no matter how unlikely, sometimes your happy ending can burst into your life when you least expect it.