Chapter Twenty-One
Milo
“Wow, that’s beautiful,” Rupert said softly, eyes lighting up with wonder as he caught sight of the castle, where hundreds of pale golden lights draped across the stone, sparkling in the darkness.
It looked like something out of a fairy tale or a Hallmark Christmas movie.
Rupert would be the perfect fit for that in his knitted green jumper, long wool coat, and red scarf with tassels.
“Yeah, it’s gorgeous,” I said, glancing at the castle before looking back at him, watching joy and delight spread across his face.
I loved how open he was becoming with his emotions, even if he didn’t always seem to enjoy them.
One day, I’d have to explain I’d take all the good, the bad, and the ugly moments because it meant I got to see all of him, just the way he was.
But that wasn’t a conversation for today.
We’d been through enough tonight. Now it was time to relax, enjoy each other’s company, and find something to eat that wasn’t mince pies.
The fact Rupert liked them was definitely the biggest betrayal I’d encountered so far. What was next? That he didn’t like bananas?
“Where do you want to start?” Rupert asked, tearing his eyes away from the castle to look down at the market which filled the courtyard and spilled out onto one of the nearby lawns.
The whole place was teaming with people, with more heading towards the castle gardens and the newly illuminated light trail.
“I think we should get something to eat, maybe have a wander around some of the stalls, then do the light trail when it’s calmed down a little.
Apparently, it’s really pretty—Owen’s dad’s a gardener here and was pretty proud of it.
Although, Owen said he was muttering mutinously for days about them wanting to put some deer lights in the rose garden.
” I chuckled, knowing Owen had spent hours pleading with his dad not to remove said deer lights and throw them off the cliff.
“Ohhh, I know who you mean. Dave, right?” Rupert said, squeezing my hand as we began to walk towards the thronging market. “Didn’t he have a hip replacement this summer? Sidney says he’s ever so nice but very fastidious about the gardens.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Owen’s dad. Owen’s convinced he’s never going to retire, he’ll just keep showing up until he dies, even if they try to tell him otherwise.”
Rupert let out a soft, wistful chuckle, glancing down at his feet for a second. “That must be nice, in a way. To be so passionate about something you want to do it every day until you die. That was how my uncle felt about the sweet shop.”
“But you don’t?”
“I don’t think so. I like it, and it’s nice to bring a bit of nostalgia to people or introduce them to new things.
There are bad parts, obviously, and the fact that it’s retail is the biggest one, especially because there are some people who’ll see a vintage sweet shop and use it as an excuse to harp on about the ‘good old days’ and how things were so much better back then, even though I’m, well… me.”
“Fucking wankers,” I muttered, my jaw clenching.
“Exactly. And I will argue with people, or ignore them, or let them talk themselves into a hole, but it is exhausting.” He sighed.
“But I don’t know what else I’d do with my life.
My only experience is in retail, and I don’t have any other qualifications.
I’ve thought about maybe trying to do a degree through the Open University, but I’m not sure what I’d do with it afterwards and it feels like a waste of money to do a degree just for the sake of it. ”
“Maybe, but if it would make you happy then what’s the harm in looking?”
“Perhaps…” He trailed off as we reached the market, sliding into the crowd, our hands still clutched tightly together so we didn’t get separated.
I saw a lot of familiar faces, but very few people I knew by name.
They’d probably all come into Lick It! over the summer, and since a lot of them smiled at me or greeted me by name, that assumption seemed pretty solid.
As I looked around the food stands, which were a lot more diverse than I’d expected, my brain immediately noticed the supreme lack of puddings.
Yeah, there was a place doing mulled wine and mince pies—which I wasn’t counting—and another selling pots of fruit crumble and custard, and one doing baked goods like brownies and cheesecake slabs, but that was about it.
“What’re you thinking?” Rupert asked, noticing me looking around. “Anything catching your eye?”
“Lots of things, but mostly I’ve realised there’s a severe lack of puddings, so even if Darcy and Owen do sod off to warmer climates each Christmas, me and Alfie should probably try and get a stand here. Maybe do a bit of a partnership with the crumble people.”
“I can always help too, if you need an extra pair of hands.”
I grinned at him, playfully wiggling my eyebrows. “Yeah? What will it cost me?”
“A kiss,” he said as he leant in to press his lips to mine. “Consider that the deposit.”
“Done.”
We wandered around the market for a little until we eventually decided what we wanted to eat.
Rupert decided on a huge bowl of mac and cheese topped with crispy onions, while I went for a giant Yorkshire pudding filled with roast pork, stuffing, apple sauce, mashed potato, and gravy.
It was messy as fuck to eat, but delicious, and made me realise how much I’d missed Sunday roasts and Yorkshire puddings.
They were both going on my list to make as often as possible over the winter.
We stood around a tall table inside the open-sided bar tent to eat, pleased to discover there were several heaters blasting out hot air that helped warm our chilly limbs.
In hindsight, I should’ve worn an actual coat instead of a fleece over a tank top, but I hadn’t thought it would be as cold as it’d turned out to be.
Rupert stood close to me, his body virtually pressed against mine. I had to concentrate when he spoke, because I kept finding myself getting lost in the tiny details of his face and if I wasn’t careful, I wouldn’t be able to remember a word he’d said.
We talked about everything and nothing, our conversation veering off on random tangents before eventually coming back to the original point or topic.
It was some of the most natural conversation I’d ever had, and with every minute that passed, I felt myself relaxing, settling into a comfortable place I’d very rarely been with anyone outside my closest friends.
Although Rupert and I had been doing this for a while—first semi-casually, then more seriously, then with an actual conversation involved—it was only more recently that I’d started to really be myself around him.
Not that I’d ever been different, not truly, but I’d always held a tiny bit back, like I didn’t want to overwhelm him by being a hundred percent Milo, a hundred percent of the time.
That’d be too much for pretty much anyone.
But now I was thinking I could definitely crank it up to ninety-five percent without annoying the pants off him.
After we’d eaten, and Rupert had procured us both an enormous hot chocolate smothered in whipped cream and marshmallows, we decided to wander around some of the craft stalls to see what was on offer.
I didn’t have a ton of money to spend, but my fingers were itching to buy more trinkets and strange little wonders for my flat.
I couldn’t resist a good knick-knack or kitsch ornament. The tackier the better!
“Can I ask you something?” Rupert asked as we lingered at a stall selling scented candles.
I nodded as I picked up several of the candles to sniff, trying to work out which one I wanted. Because I could never say no to a nice scented candle. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Lick It! was Darcy’s idea, right?”
“Yeah, it’s, like, his lifelong dream.”
“Exactly, so what made you want to give up your life to come back here? I mean, was this your dream too? Or were you okay giving up whatever dreams you had to make someone else’s a reality?”
It was a good question, and I thought for a second while I dug in my pocket for some cash to pay for the orange and cinnamon candle I’d chosen.
“I never really thought of it like that,” I said.
“Yeah, this is Darcy’s dream originally, but now it’s kind of mine and Alfie’s too.
We’ve all shaped it, in a way. And I didn’t mind diving into his plans because it wasn’t like I had any of my own.
I’ve never been the sort of person who knew what they wanted to do with their life, I’m fine pottering along doing things that make me happy and that I enjoy.
It doesn’t have to be a grand dream, it can be something fun. Or something I don’t hate, at least.
“Like, I’ve never wanted to make work my entire identity, and running Lick It!
means I get to do all the things I love, without all the responsibility—’cos the really big decisions fall to Darcy, although we all get a say—and I get several months a year to do whatever the fuck I want.
It’s perfect for me. So, yeah, I don’t see it as giving up my dreams for his.
Our goals in life just happen to be compatible, and that’s awesome. ”
I glanced at Rupert, watching his expression as he processed my words. A tiny, relieved smile slid onto his lips as we moved on to the next stall, a little tension melting out of his shoulders. “You know, you might be the first person to ever tell me that.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He walked a little further down, stopping to look at a display of adorable, felted sheep made from local wool.
“When I was a child, I was told to follow the plan I’d been given, to work hard and study and go to university, and then my family wanted me to take over the sweet shop, to keep my uncle’s legacy alive, so I did.
At the same time, society kept telling me to follow my dreams, to find what I was passionate about and make a career out of it.
And somewhere along the way, I forgot work doesn’t have to be my entire identity.
Maybe the sweet shop isn’t my dream, but maybe it’s okay if I run it well and find other things outside of work that I love.
Which, I’ve sort of already done, I suppose. I just didn’t realise it.”
“You do have a lot of really cool hobbies. And you have Lizzie!”
“She is my darling,” Rupert said with a warm smile.
“I still want to get her a bonnet. Maybe I can try taking up crochet over the winter to make her one.”
“Would you stick to it if you did?” Rupert asked teasingly. “Or would you buy all the supplies, try it for one or two nights, decide it’s not perfect and immediately discard it?”
I gasped, pretending to be shocked. “How dare you? I’ll have you know I intend to pick up all the hobbies I’ve abandoned again.”
“When?”
“I dunno. At some point.”
“Maybe ask around and see if anyone has crochet things they can lend you before you dive all in,” Rupert said. “I’m sure Norman will know someone.”
“Thanks. Oh, Rupert, look! They have soap shaped like rubber ducks!” I dragged him down to the stall I’d spotted, immediately thinking I’d get some as Christmas presents for friends. Not because I thought they smelled, but simply because they were duck soaps! Who wouldn’t love that?
Rupert smiled fondly as he listened to me debate between various ducks and try to decide which one to get for each person—Darcy was definitely getting the one in the little chef hat to start—looking at me as if everything I said was special.
Important. Like I was worth listening to.
It was a fucking joyous feeling that made me want to burst into song and do a little dance in the middle of the crowd.
Things might be more difficult for us sometimes, and we might take a different route to some people, but it would be worth it in the end.
Once I’d loaded up on duck soap, and we’d perused the last of the stalls, we finally wandered towards the light trail, hand in hand.
“You know what would be amazing right now?” Rupert said, almost wistfully.
“What?”
“Ice cream.”
“I know,” I said, mournfully. “You’d think working around it all summer would put me off, but I’m craving it more than ever.”
“You know, I’ve still got a little bit of the last tubs you gave me in the freezer. I’ve been sort of rationing it. We could have some when we get back,” Rupert said. “If you want to.”
“Fuck yeah, let’s do it.” I squeezed his hand and pulled him in for a kiss, a delicious idea sidling into my mind as I did.
I smirked, eyes lighting up as I looked at him. “How would you feel about me eating it off you?”