Page 10 of My Big Fat Vampire Wedding
“At work, yes.”
“With that … dog.” Ophelia sniffed.
“Mum, Lucy is a werewolf, not a dog. That’s so … speciesist.”
Her mother sighed dramatically at that but said no more, and Pandora made her excuses to get going before they could all start arguing again.
“Think about it,” Dante said as they passed each otherin the hallway. “Then you’re not under anyone’s thumb anymore.”
Oh, she was thinking about it, all right.
In fact, it was all she could think about as she walked toward the train, the leaves drifting lazily down around her.
It was the perfect plan.
If only she could find the right man for the job.
Caramel Macchiato Cutie immediately popped into her head – but, fine, she totally imagined him dressed in a parted white linen shirt à la Colin Firth, as Mr. Darcy, when he walked back after taking a dip in the lake.
She was quick to squash that fantasy, though.
He would never go for it.
He was so serious and studious.
That was not the kind of guy who would agree to some absurd fake-dating scenario. Even if she offered a ton of money for the inconvenience.
She was just going to have to find someone else.
No matter how much her heart ached at the idea.
But there it was, nestled on a narrow, cobblestoned street that looked untouched by time. The abandoned shop stood as a quiet monument to faded dreams. Its once-bright façade had been dulled by grime and streaks of soot, the peeling green paint exposing patches of weathered wood underneath.
A hand-painted sign hung precariously above the doorway, its cracked golden letters spelling outGreyson’s Toy Museumin elegant script. Beneath it, the arched entrance was blocked by rusted shutters, locking it down tight.
The windows were the shop’s saddest feature – large panes of glass fogged with age and smeared with streaksof dirt, revealing only faint shadows of the interior. There were spiderweb cracks branching out from one corner, like the store’s heart was breaking with its own neglect.
A battered old noticeboard clung to the brick wall beside the door. Layers of faded posters with yellowing pages for events long past were still situated behind the protective glass.
Above it, a wrought-iron lantern leaned slightly to the side, but Pandora couldn’t help but imagine it straightened, the glass cleaned, and the bulbs replaced, thinking of the romantic glow it would create in the evenings.
Pandora had always felt it was the kind of place where stories belonged.
She imagined the paint restored, the windows polished and sparkling, allowing passersby to look through and see the rows of carefully arranged bookshelves and displays featuring bookish merchandise. She thought of customers pulled inward with the promise of comfy chairs to sink into while they got lost in their next adventure.
Pandora forced her gaze away, the thought of reviving the shop filling her with a pang of longing, a bittersweet ache for the life and community she could build there if only she had the means to unlock its full potential.
If she couldn’t find the right man to use to convince her family she loved him enough to marry him, any chance of her opening her dream bookshop would disappear.
Her gaze moved around the streets, wondering how she might pinpoint the kind of man she could approach. And what she could possibly say to them as an opener.
Hey, want to get married and inherit a fortune?was probably not the way to go.
Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. Surely,the best person for the job was someone who was a really good liar. A professional liar, even.
An actor.
That would be the most convincing man for the job.
