Page 53 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museum

‘They’re good tears,’ I reassure him quickly because he’s chewing his lip like he’s done something horribly wrong. ‘I just can’t believe it. You can’t have… You can’t just give me the building. Your company bought it. At least let me pay somet—’

‘The company can afford it.’ He softly cuts off my protest. ‘Between us, we’ve turned it into a worthless albatross that they were only too pleased to get rid of. You owe nothing. The museum is yours.’

It’s like he knows he needs to keep repeating those words so they sink in, and I look up at the night sky, trying to will the tears to stop falling because I cry harder every time he says it. It cannot be real, and yet I’m holding the proof right here in my hand.

‘What this bloody garden needs is somewhere to sit down.’ I perch against one of the tables and try to breathe through the tears, certain that if I pinch myself, I’ll wake up and I really will be out here solely to get some chairs, and this won’t be happening in real life.

In my wildest dreams, I never expected saving the museum to involve me actually owning it, and I laugh semi-hysterically while still crying, and the resulting noise is enough of a mess that Warren looks alarmed.

‘I want to give you a hug but you’d probably wallop me round the head with that bird bath if I tried.’

I glance at the wide bowl on a concrete pedestal. ‘Nah. Too heavy to lift.’

He laughs a thick laugh that makes me think he’s holding onto his emotions by a thread too.

This is the biggest, most unexpected thing anyone’s ever done for me, so big that it obliterates everything that came before.

He made mistakes, but he’s gone above and beyond to make up for them, and it’s increasingly difficult to remember the bad parts, and instead all I can think of is the joy he brought into my life, and how much I’ve missed him.

‘You left the company?’ I sniffle and try to compose myself. ‘Your own family company that you’ve worked at for twenty years?’

‘Yep. And do you know how many times I’ve been happy in those twenty years?’

I shake my head.

‘Once. It started this September when I arrived here. It was a nice feeling and I wasn’t ready to give it up.

Berrington Developments is not the company my father wanted to start.

It’s the company that got all twisted up with my mother’s bitterness and grief and her single-minded dedication to ensuring no one ever felt anything deeply enough to get their heart broken again.

Nothing has ever been more soul-destroying than going back to that office after being here, and knowing what they’d done with that video.

My father wanted to make the world better by bringing new builds to areas that would benefit from them – not by destroying beautiful places that bring charm and magic and light to everyone they touch, and I hadn’t realised how caught up I’d got in all that until I came here and saw the real-life impact of what my company wanted to do.

I’ve known I was going to leave for weeks now, but I had to make sure I could take this with me.

’ He points to the envelope on the table and takes a step towards me.

‘I know I messed up, Liss. I should have taken that camera down – or never put it up in the first place – and I definitely should have triple-checked who had access to the footage. I shouldn’t have lied about the most likely outcome for the museum and what my job really was.

I’m so sorry. There’s no excuse and there’s no way of truly making up for it. ’

‘It’s not about making up for it. It’s about… proving you were who I thought you were.’ I tilt my head and try to catch his eyes. ‘It was you who wrote that first post, wasn’t it? The one that mentioned finding meaning in life again?’

His eyes meet mine across the garden. ‘So you did read my wish after all…’

‘Yeah. Sorry, it was so personal that it wasn’t easy to tell you. If I’d known it was going to be something like that, I would have left it well alone.’

‘You made it come true, you know. Being with you, seeing everything you do, it showed me what had been missing from my life. Reading those wishes, having the privilege of granting some of them… it made me feel alive again. I meant what I said the other day – I’ve never been happier than when I was crouching behind a pile of binbags with you.

I want to spend the rest of my days hiding behind bins with you, helping people believe in magic and goodness and hope.

I know you didn’t intend it that way, but your magical wishing well granted the wish I made to appease you, back when I thought this was just another job, that it wouldn’t have any impact on me or change my life in any way.

I don’t deserve it, but can you forgive me? ’

I glance at the envelope on the table and then at the windows of the castle, where I can see the silhouettes of multiple shadows, trying not to twitch the curtains and look out. Even my friends must have forgiven him because they’ve gone to all this trouble to throw us together.

And I missed him. So, so much. Seeing him tonight wasn’t just a shock – it was a relief.

Since he left the other day, all I’ve wanted is to see him again.

I know that I could say no and he’d leave, and I really would never have to see him again, but the thought of letting him go makes my hands start shaking and my stomach turns over and feels like there’s a swarm of irate bees buzzing angrily inside it.

I push myself up, walk over on unsteady legs, and wrap my arms around him.

It takes a few seconds for him to react and then his arms slide around me too, uncertainly like he’s still reserving judgement on whether this hug is a good thing or a bad thing.

‘This seems like a good sign,’ he murmurs into my neck, and it makes me let go of all pretences and cling onto him.

My hands slide into his hair and grasp at his arms, desperately inhale his aftershave, and he holds me so close that it’s only possible to take shallow breaths, and that’s all we do.

For long minutes, we just clutch onto each other and breathe, and when he eventually pulls back without taking his arms from around me, I reach up and cup his face.

‘Are you okay? You look like you haven’t slept since last month.’ I rub my thumb over his cheek and look into his emotional blue eyes.

‘Yeah, it’s pretty hard to sleep when you’ve lost the best thing that’s ever happened to you and you’ve only got yourself to blame.

But I will be… I have a hospital appointment in January to get this re-fitted and see if there’s anything else I can do to improve it.

’ He points to his hearing aid and I reach up until I can rub my thumb over his earlobe and he shivers in my arms in a way that’s not connected to the cold.

His eyes slowly drift shut. ‘Never in a million years did I think I’d let anyone see that, get that close, and just… trust them not to treat me differently because of it.’

I lean up and press my lips to his cheek, and the noise he makes is nothing louder than a shivery, shuddery breath, but it’s a sound that speaks so many volumes about how much he’s struggled, and how different life can be with the right support.

‘What will you do now? For work, I mean.’ I pull back until I can cup his face again, and I love how reluctant he is to open his eyes and let reality back in to this dreamy closeness.

‘I’m actually going cap in hand around all the fairytale museums in the area, looking for a job and a girlfriend…’

I laugh out loud. ‘Any specific job?’

His mouth contorts as he gives it some serious thought. ‘Museum marketing manager? Gift shop overseer? Chief beanstalk builder?’

‘I think one of those could be arranged. Full disclosure though, it does not come with a company car and fancy suits are prohibited. Deal?’

His grin is so wide that his jaw must be aching as he leans down to kiss my cheek. ‘Best deal I’ve ever made.’

‘Any specific girlfriend?’ I can’t stop smiling either as he stands back up again, his arms still around me.

‘No, any will do, I’m not fussed.’ He laughs when I smack his shoulder.

‘Yes, one very, very specific girlfriend, Liss. The woman who got under my skin from day one, with her bright colourful hair and matching attitude, who makes magic and wishes and fairies seem real, and makes me feel like I’m dancing in fairydust and floating above the clouds. ’

His fingers twist in my hair as he tucks it back and dips his head until his nose can rub against mine, which is either a romantic gesture or an attempt to warm up because both our noses are like ice, and we end up giggling against each other’s mouths and losing track of the conversation.

My fingers stroke his hair back as he touches his lips tentatively to mine, soft at first, careful and caring, his fingers running all over me, like he’s trying to convince himself that this isn’t a dream, and I’m lost in that distant, otherworldly feeling too, still convinced someone’s going to wake me up any second and I really am going to be out here alone, having an imaginary-chair-induced fantasy.

The thought makes me grasp at him harder, because if this is some sort of daydream, I want to make the absolute most of it, and he’s definitely thinking the same thing because the kiss turns harder and hotter.

His stubble grazes across my skin and I gasp against his mouth, nip at his lips, and the noise he makes is a guttural groan crossed with a whimper, and the only thing that stops me from tearing his clothes off right this second is how flipping freezing it is out here, and the vague memory of an audience watching from behind the nearest window.