Page 38 of A Midnight Kiss on Ever After Street
He’s not wrong there. It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it. People can find love twice in a lifetime. Don’t those dresses deserve a second chance at finding love too? They could at least find new owners who love them… ‘You’re suggesting I sell them?’
‘Why not?’
‘Why not?’ I repeat. ‘Oh, let me count the ways. I don’t have permission to do that and Ebony would never agree. It’s not our policy. Each dress was handmade for each individual buyer. Exclusively. They can’t just be passed on to someone else.’
‘If they’ve returned it, I really don’t think they care what happens to it now.’
‘Well, no, but…’ Something’s sparked inside me and my mind is fizzing with possibilities. Icouldturn this shop around. Steam clean all those dresses and fill the shop with them. Sell them for reasonable prices. Prices that people who visit Ever After Street can actually afford. There could be rails full of dresses for people to look through, try on, spin around in front of a mirror, like there used to be when I was a child, sitting on my dad’s knee behind this very counter, listening to the whirr of Mum’s sewing machine, watching customers hold dresses up in front of themselves in the mirror, close their eyes and pretend to waltz with an imaginary partner, dreaming of the magical evening they could have with a dress like that on.
‘I could make alterations, adjust them so they fit each buyer’s measurements… It doesn’t take long to unpick seams or add panels here or darts there…’ My voice is speeding up and I can’t keep the excitement out of it, and I force myself to stop because I’m getting carried away and forgetting myself. This is not my shop and I willneverbe allowed to do that, no matter how incredible it would be.
‘Do it.’
His simple, calm words make it sound so easy, but as with most things in life, it never is. ‘I can’t just “do it”, Witt. Ebony would kill me.’
‘Ebony’s not here.’ He approaches the counter without dropping eye contact. ‘Ebony’s not going to be here for another two weeks.’
I almost laugh at what he’s suggesting. ‘Not at the moment, but do you think she’s not going to find out andthenkill me? I’m trying to make her realise that I’m a responsible adult who can be trusted. When she hands the shop over to me, I can run it the way I choose.ThenI can give those dresses a second chance, not now.’
He leans on his elbows on the counter, ducking down until he’s at my height and looking me directly in the eyes. Without a word, he holds his hand out, and like an autopilot response, I slip mine into it. ‘May I speak frankly?’
I nod, biting my lip because I already know what he’s going to say, and maybe I need to hear it.
He takes a breath and it makes me realise that speaking isn’t always straightforward for him. He hides his stammer alot, and I squeeze his fingers, because he’s trying to help me, and it’s easy to forget how far out of his comfort zone this is.
‘It’s never going to happen. You’re working your backside off and you have been for years, and she’s stringing you along, dangling a carrot, but she is never, ever going to admit she’s wrong and give up this shop.’
At first I’m stung and my instinctive reaction is to snap that I’ve only known him for a week, and he has no right to push his – admittedly gorgeous – nose into our business, but his words connect with my own thoughts that I keep trying to stamp down. ‘You don’t know that.’
‘You’re absolutely right. I don’tknowthat.’ His hand squeezes mine. ‘But I thinkyoudo.’
How can someone I met a week ago know methiswell? I swallow hard and he continues kindly. ‘Sade, what you do is extraordinary and I thinkyou’veforgotten how extraordinary it is. Whatever’s happened here in the past few years has knocked your confidence so much that you no longer believe in the thing you love. Yousayyou believe in fairy tales, but it’s been a long time since youreallydid, and even longer since you believed in yourself. You have everything you need to save The Cinderella Shop, but it’s not Ebony’s permission you need – it’s your own.’
I don’t realise how deeply his words have affected me until his face blurs in front of my eyes and spontaneous tears spill over.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to speakthatfrankly.’ He lets go of my hand, pushes himself up onto the counter and swings his legs over until he’s back on my side, and then I’m in his arms, surrounded by his dusky lavender and saffron aftershave as he holds me against his chest. I’m enclosed by his solid body, and it’s the most safe and secure I can ever remember being, and I focus on the feeling of his stubble catching in my hair as I wipe my eyes and try to get myself under control. I didnotexpect such an emotional reaction to words that are truer than I’ve ever admitted to myself before.
He’s wearing a quarter-zip khaki top with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to disguise how short it is on his arms and I put my hand on his chest, intending to step away from him, but it ends up staying there because whenever I touch him, it’s impossible to stop. His hand covers mine and he holds it over his heart and his chin presses closer to the top of my head, even though he’s probably being suffocated by curls up there, I let myself lean against him for a few moments, and I think I could be happy for the rest of my life in these arms.
And then, as always seems to be the case when I’m with Witt, reality slaps me round the face like a wet haddock and I force myself to step away. ‘Are you serious?’
His eyes search out mine before he answers. ‘Yes.’
That simplicity again. His easy way of making anything seem possible, and inside me, there’s a sense of a weight being lifted, like he’s hit the nail completely on its uncomfortable but honest head, and it’s coupled with a fluttering, buzzing excitement, and I feel as though he sees itallwhen I look into his eyes.
‘You have two weeks of freedom. Not to prove to Ebony that you can be trusted, but toshowEbony that your ideas are worth listening to. To make yourself believe inyouas much as I believe in you.’
I know he notices the way my face distorts as I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the tears welling up again, and I have to grip the counter to stop myself jumping on him and acting on the overwhelming rush of love. How did I get so lucky to meet a man like this? Prince Charming has got absolutelynothingon Witt Kingscote.
‘I’ll help. I can move stuff, shift shop fittings, put rails together.’ He flexes a bicep which was supposed to be a joke, but it makes my mouth go dry and simultaneously feel like I might be drooling. ‘I can even be taught how to use the steam cleaner.’
It makes me laugh out loud. ‘Do you have time for that?’
‘For you?Always.’ His eyes are shining as he looks at me, and I finally give in to the excitement that fizzes through my veins. I feel like a fading, flickering candle and something has lit me up and given me permission to be alight again.
* * *
Witt and I are making two mannequins waltz across the shop together when Scarlett comes in that afternoon. She immediately backs out of the doorway and looks up at the sign to make sure she’s entered the right shop.
