Page 42 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museum

It’s the following week and Warren’s late for work.

Recently, he’s always here before opening time and I’m ashamed of how much I look forward to sharing the first cup of tea of the day with him, and as the weeks tick past, I keep getting little twinges of thoughts about how, sooner or later, he’s going to have to go back to his normal job and he’s not going to be here every day.

In two and a half months, I’ve gone from loudly objecting to his presence to wondering how I’m going to manage without it.

It’s a relief to finally catch sight of his dark hair coming up the steps towards the front door, and I can’t hide the wide grin as he comes in, wearing a zip-up jumper with panels of light blue and navy, and stops in the doorway, a huge smile on his face that matches mine.

‘I really hope that grin is because you’ve won the lottery and not just because you’re happy to see me. ’

‘Can it be both?’ I joke to cover how much I can’t stop smiling, and the sole reason is because simply seeing him tends to have that effect lately.

‘Is there anyone here yet?’ He looks around, trying to gauge how many visitors there might be, and when I shake my head, he continues. ‘Can you do me a favour and humour me for a minute?’

He goes over to the music player near the door and turns the volume of the instrumental Disney music up until it’s unpleasantly loud, and then comes over to the front desk and points to the far end of the lobby. ‘Can you go over there, face the wall, and say something quietly?’

I almost laugh at the absurdity of the request, but he asked me to humour him so I walk to the furthest end of the room while giving him a questioning look, and face the wall. ‘You’re a very strange man, Warren Berrington.’

‘I know I am.’

There’s no way he heard that over the volume of the music, and when I turn back to face him, he’s still smiling, and he turns his head, revealing the hearing aid in his left ear.

I’m unprepared for the wave of emotion it sets off in me, but before I know it, my eyes have welled up and I run back across the lobby and throw my arms around him with such force that the pair of us nearly crash to the floor.

He bends to catch me just in time and lifts me up to spin us around, and I bury my face in his neck, inhaling the hint of dark citrus in his leather-scented aftershave, as my fingers curl into his jumper and pull him closer.

‘I have no right to be as proud of you as I am, but I’m so proud of you. You actually did it.’

‘With difficulty. I’m late because I couldn’t pluck up the courage to get out of the car. I thought everyone was looking at me as I walked down the road.’ His voice sounds hoarse, like my arms are holding him so tightly that I’m cutting off his oxygen.

‘They weren’t. You know that, right?’ I pull back until I can look him directly in the eyes. ‘It’s your own self-consciousness you’re projecting, not what anyone else is actually seeing.’

‘Yeah, I guess.’ He lets out a shaky breath.

‘I don’t even know if I can keep it in, if it’s going to get the better of me, but I want to try, while I’m here, while I can be myself and know you’re not going to judge me or ridicule me, while I have a chance to see how much of a difference it makes where I know I’ll be accepted as I am, and… ’

I’m holding his face in my hands, my thumb brushing his cheek, the fingers of my other hand underneath his earlobe, twiddling with the ends of his dark hair, and everything becomes too much, and so much affection for him bubbles up and bursts out of me and there’s nowhere for it to go except to press my lips to his.

It’s just a peck, but I do it again and again and again. He makes a surprised noise, and his lips press against mine, his hands tighten on my back where he’s still holding me up, and I can feel his breath speeding up, sounding unstable as his emotion builds, and…

…suddenly, my feet hit the floor when he puts me down abruptly and takes a step backwards so fast that his body jolts when his hip knocks so hard into the front desk that it will definitely leave a bruise.

I cover my face with my hands. I can’t believe I just did that.

Our pizza date last week ended with a lingering hug and a kiss on the cheek, and I got the impression he was holding back from taking it any further, and I definitely wouldn’t have been opposed, but I had no right to kiss him like that.

‘I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.

’ My face is throbbing in time with my speeding pulse, and I’m so hot that I swear steam will start pouring out from between my fingers at any moment, and I want the ground to swallow me whole.

Why did I do that? Why did I think that was even in the realm of appropriate?

Why did I think he wanted it? And maybe that’s exactly the problem – thinking. It’s clearly not my strong suit.

His hands close gently around my wrists and try to lift my hands away from my face. ‘No, you should, I’m the one who…’ He makes a noise of frustration and steps away, and I blow out a breath between my hands and force myself to part my fingers and look out.

He’s turned away and is pushing a hand through his hair. ‘Liss, I’m sorry. Everything about my life is so wrong, and you are so right, and you deserve a Disney prince and I can never be that, and…’

It hurts to hear that because, to me, the opposite is true.

I don’t want a Disney prince. That’s always been a metaphor.

What I’ve always wanted is someone who makes me feel like I’m living in a real-life fairytale, and Warren more than qualifies on that front, and I wish I knew how to put it into words that he could hear – not with his ears, but in his soul.

He makes an even more frustrated-sounding noise.

‘Can we pretend the last five minutes didn’t happen?

Just rewind time, so you’re standing there and I’m here, and…

’ He comes back over and this time, when his fingers touch my wrists, I let him move my hands, and he’s standing in front of me, like we were a few minutes ago but without the whole jumping on him and kissing him thing.

I take a few deep breaths and try to go along with it, because forgetting all about the last five minutes is fine by me.

My hair is scrunched by his hands so I shake it out and square my shoulders, and try to sound casual and like my voice isn’t shaking at all. ‘So, you’re wearing a hearing aid?’

‘Yeah. It’s the one I got about ten years ago and never wore.

It’s not a perfect fit now because your ears never stop growing, but if I’m going to continue wearing it, I could go back to the hospital and get fitted for a newer, more discreet one.

’ He sounds normal, apart from the fact his hands are shaking, and he notices when I do and hides them behind his back.

‘How does it feel?’

‘Weird. I’m so self-conscious, you wouldn’t believe. It feels like I’m wearing a brick on my head and just as conspicuous.’

‘It’s barely noticeable. Your hair mostly covers it anyway.’ I go to reach up and then hesitate. ‘Can I?’

He nods, and I run my fingers through his hair, loosening it around his ear and covering most of the brown plastic device that’s now sitting there, and I let my fingers trail down, and my thumb rubs over his earlobe…

Suddenly, his lips are on mine again. It’s my turn to be surprised as he leans down to kiss me, nothing more than a peck that’s probably only intended to be one, but like I couldn’t either, it’s impossible to just kiss him once and pull away, but after his reaction just now, the surprise has taken my breath away.

I’m not even sure which part of him I’m holding, but my fingers dig in as he kisses me again and again.

‘Warren…’ I say warningly.

‘I know, I know,’ he murmurs against my mouth, forcing himself to pull back just far enough to rest his forehead against mine, breathing hard, more from the emotional impact than from any ferocity in the gentle kisses, and I feel as head-swimmingly oxygen-deprived as if we’d been kissing for hours without coming up for air.

I open my eyes and brush my fingers through his hair, and he blinks his eyes open too and pulls back far enough to focus.

I hold his gaze and there’s so much emotion reflected back at me, and I see the moment he drops his front and gives in to the desire blazing in his blue eyes, and this time when he kisses me, it’s properly.

He pushes until my back is against the desk, and it’s so much more than just a peck.

Our tongues tangle and my arms wrap around his neck and claw into his hair, and one leg hooks around his to pull him closer, holding him against me, clutching at him in case he gets it into his head to pull away again, although he’s kissing me so desperately that it doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere now.

‘This is not rewinding time,’ I gasp against his mouth.

‘This is making the same mistake twice and really bloody enjoying it.’ Every word is punctuated by kisses and his voice is so breathy that I laugh into the kiss, my fingers wound in his hair tightly enough to pull it out, his hands splayed on my hip, one underneath my loose jumper, his fingertips burning into the skin of my lower back, and I let out such an indecent-sounding moan that it makes him laugh, but his laugh quickly turns into a groan when it gives me a chance to press closer against him, his leg between mine, and his hands move, running down my body like he’s about to lift me up onto the desk…

‘At least someone’s having a good morning.’ A woman clears her throat in the doorway, and we both screech in shock at the unexpected interruption and dive apart. I’d got so caught up that I’d forgotten where we are, never mind the fact that we’re open to customers.