Chapter 40 Today Was a Fairytale
Today Was a Fairytale
Ali
The sky outside had shifted from soft blue to dusky lavender, the last light of day melting behind Ali’s blackout curtains.
Inside her bedroom, the glow of the TV cast flickers across the walls, the air thick with the scent of popcorn, lip balm, and the faintest trace of peppermint lotion from earlier.
Ali and Ashley were still piled under the comforter in their pajamas—Ali in one of Dylan’s old shirts and fuzzy socks, Ashley in her “Get In Loser, We’re Going Snacking” set from Etsy.
At some point, the throw blanket from the couch had migrated in, and now it was tangled around both of them like a fleece burrito.
The end credits of the Hannah Montana season one finale scrolled across the screen.
Ashley exhaled dramatically. “Okay. Miley’s officially lied to too many people, and I need something with singing and high-stakes talent show drama.”
Ali cracked open one eye. “You’re thinking Camp Rock, aren’t you?”
Ashley looked insulted. “When am I not thinking Camp Rock?”
Ali grinned. “Sold.”
Ashley backed out of Disney+ with the precision of someone disarming a bomb. “Camp Rock one. We do not acknowledge the sequel.”
Ali reached for her phone and opened the DoorDash app. “We need sugar. And fries. Maybe a quesadilla. Something with a shocking number of carbs.”
“Root beer float,” Ashley said, pointing at nothing in particular. “From that diner place.”
Ali was already typing. “I’m getting the cookie skillet. Don’t fight me.”
“As if I’d ever fight a skillet cookie.”
By the time the trailer montage started to play and Demi Lovato looked dramatically at her reflection in a pond, the order was placed, their stomachs growled in anticipation, and Ashley was full-on harmonizing with the intro music like she was auditioning for The Voice: Pajama Edition.
Ali laughed and curled deeper into the blanket. The day had been nothing but fleece and feel-good chaos, and honestly? She needed it. She hadn’t touched her email, hadn’t brushed her hair since 10 a.m., and hadn’t once let herself overthink Dylan’s last message.
Okay, maybe once.
Twice.
But she was proud of herself for mostly chilling. Ashley had a way of making the noise quiet, of anchoring her in a way few people could.
The doorbell rang, and both of them sat up like feral raccoons.
“Skillet cookie,” Ashley said reverently.
Ali grabbed the tip envelope from the nightstand. “Let’s go, baby.”
By Thursday afternoon, the sugar high had faded and the emails were relentless.
Ali sat at her desk, eyes glazed as she stared at a spreadsheet she’d opened four times and still hadn’t updated. Her office was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning and the faint tapping of someone’s keyboard down the hall.
Her phone buzzed across the desk, flashing
Dylan ??????
She smiled before she even picked it up.
She may have added the cute emojis next to his name in her contacts in the middle of Joe and Demi’s duet the other day—Ashley had clutched her heart and declared it “a spiritual experience.” Ali, overwhelmed by feelings (and sugar), had edited his contact mid-chorus.
No regrets.
She snatched it up like it might disappear.
“Hey, you,” she said, already smiling.
“Hey, baby,” came his voice—low, rough, and just the right kind of smug. “You busy?”
“Only emotionally. What’s up?”
She could hear him smile. “I’m coming to see you this weekend.”
Her brain short-circuited. “Wait—what?”
“I miss you, Ali. Like…it’s getting bad. I almost kissed my phone screen last night.”
Her stomach did a full somersault.
“I had to bribe Kallie with brunch and promise I’d finish a promo shoot early next week,” he went on. “But she cleared my schedule. I’m flying in Friday.”
Ali leaned back in her chair, the breath whooshing out of her like someone had opened a window in her chest.
“You’re really coming?”
“I’m really coming. I need you, sweetheart. I want a weekend of nothing but you. Pajamas and bad TV and me holding you so tight you forget what loneliness ever felt like.”
She bit her lip, her voice small but full of warmth. “You already do that. Just by calling.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, his voice thick now, “it’s not enough. I need to see your face without a screen between us.”
Ali blinked hard at the sudden sting behind her eyes. “I’ll stock up on junk food and cozy blankets.”
“And I’ll bring you breakfast in bed. Every damn morning.”
“You are so lucky I love you,” she whispered.
“I really am,” he said softly. “See you tomorrow, baby.”
They stayed on the line for a few more seconds—quiet, connected, not needing anything else.
When she finally hung up, the spreadsheet was still blank. But her heart was full.
She sat there for a moment after the call ended, staring at her phone, her lips still curved in a stunned little smile. Then her fingers started tapping—light and restless—against the desk, her mind already racing ahead.
She could wait for him to Uber from the airport. Let him come to her.
Or…she could take a half day, drive to Savannah, and be there the second he stepped off the plane.
The image hit her so fast and so clear—Dylan in arrivals, baseball cap pulled low, that slow grin breaking across his face when he saw her—that she was already on her feet.
Screw the spreadsheet.
She skipped—literally skipped—down the hallway in her sandals, earning a bewildered look and a muttered “everything okay?” from reception. She wasn’t even embarrassed. Just laughed and waved.
As she passed Jason’s office, she popped her head in, “Follow me, Thor.”
Abigail’s office door was cracked. Ali knocked once and pushed it open.
Abigail glanced up from her monitor, brows lifting. “Why do you look like a Hallmark movie just threw up on you?”
Ali grinned. “He’s coming. Tomorrow. I’m taking a half day and picking him up at the airport.”
Abigail blinked once. “Dylan?”
Ali nodded, bouncing on her toes like a child announcing Christmas came early. “I want to be there when he lands. I don’t want to waste a single second.”
Abigail let out a full-body gasp and jumped from her chair. “YES. Go. I’ll cover everything.”
“Actually—take the whole day,” Jason chimed in from behind her. “Get a blowout in the morning. Spray tan.”
Then he paused. “Scratch that—no spray tan. He’d mess it up before it dried.”
“We don’t care what you do,” Abigail added, “just go be cute and happy.”
Ali laughed, hugging herself. “Y’all are the best.”
“We know,” they said in unison.
“Now get out of here before I cry from how disgustingly romantic this is. I need to call Kellan and remind myself I have the best husband in the world. Except for the week he hid my Diet Cokes.”
She narrowed her eyes, deadly serious. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”
Ali cackled. “Justice for caffeine.”
“Exactly,” Abigail said, waving her off. “Now go. Be in love. Be annoying. I fully support it.”
Ali blew her a kiss and turned down the hallway, practically floating.
She tried walking normally back to her office, heart pounding, already mentally planning her outfit, her playlist, and—priorities—her wax.
The second she stepped back into her office, she grabbed her phone and started texting at lightning speed.
Hi Saylor! I know it’s last minute but pleasssse tell me you have an opening by some miracle today! I need to be smooth, confident, and emotionally stable by tomorrow. Prioritizing the first two but would really love all three ??
She hit send and flopped into her chair with a dreamy sigh, spinning in a slow, contented circle. Her reflection in the black computer screen looked flushed and happy.
God, she missed him. And tomorrow, she wouldn’t have to.
GIRLIE POP! One of my regulars just canceled for 2pm—probably got back with her situationship again ??Come on in. I’ll have the good numbing spray and a heating pad waiting. PCOS girlies stick together. We suffer…but make it ?hairless?
Ali snorted so loudly she nearly dropped her phone. She texted back a string of heart emojis and a “you’re a lifesaver” before marking the appointment in her calendar with six exclamation points.
Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.