Page 54 of A Midnight Kiss on Ever After Street
‘Oh, I threw that away ages ago.’ She waves a nonchalant hand.
What a surprise. ‘Then you’re out of luck, I’m afraid.’
‘Why has it taken you so long to come forward?’ Witt sounds disbelieving, but he’s well-mannered enough to give her the benefit of the doubt, whereas Iknowshe’s making it up.
‘I didn’t know you were looking for me, did I?’ She sounds snappy and impatient. ‘I’ve only just seen the dress and the posters. But now we’ve found each other again. Yay!’
‘Yay.’ Witt mutters the most un-yay-like mutter in world history and looks at me again. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think you’re the person I’m looking for.’
‘Yes, I am. I can prove it. I have the other shoe.’
He raises an eyebrow at me before looking back at her. ‘Youhave the other shoe?’
‘Yes!’
‘You don’t have the other shoe.’ I’m trying to stay calm while secretly racing through thoughts of whether she’s lying or whether she really could somehow have the other shoe. Well, nottheother shoe, but there may be more than one pair. They weren’t custom-made for any particular dress, they were just display pieces. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that she could’ve bought a similar pair. What if she does somehow haveanother shoe?
Who is this woman and what does she expect to gain out of pretending to be, well, me? Witt can’t be stupid enough to fall for this, can he?
He adjusts his glasses as he looks at her, as though he’s thinking it through.
‘You, Mr Prince!’ She jabs a finger at him so hard that, even from the other side of the shop, he flinches as if she’s actually poked him. ‘You take me out for dinner tonight and I’ll bring it with me.’
‘I don’t think that’s a very good ide—’
‘Don’t you want me to prove who I am?’
‘Well, yes, but I don’t think…’ He looks at me again.
‘Witt,’ I mouth. Come on. He is not so daft that he’d even consider this to be true. Is he?
He thinks about it for a moment, clearly suspicious of her claim. ‘That night at the ball – what was I wearing?’
The nameless redhead thinks long and hard. ‘A suit.’
He glances at me. ‘Well, I was.’
‘As opposed to what? A yellow tutu? Björk’s swan dress?’ I hiss. ‘Whatelsewould a guy wear to a ball?’
He looks befuddled. ‘It’s just that the girl I met had blonde hair.’
‘Have you never heard of hair dye, Mr Prince?’ She whirls round and barks at him so sharply that he takes a step backwards. She doesn’t even know his name or seem particularly interested in finding out.
‘Well, yes, I… um… Good point well…’ His lips stay closed but move as though he can’t get the next word out, and I can see his panic set in. I can see the tips of his ears reddening, the heat that’s rushed to his cheeks, the way he tries to take a breath and centre himself, but the woman is glaring at him and making it worse. His hand is on the counter and I reach out to give it a squeeze and curl my fingers around his.
‘Made,’ he finishes with a rush of air as though he’s been holding his breath. His fingers tighten around mine.
The redhead has got her hands on her hips and is giving him an annoyed look. ‘Don’t you want to get to know me after thatamaaaazingnight?’
His hand is shaking and I can tell how much he doesn’t want to speak again. ‘Then I suppose Idoowe you dinner.’ His voice comes out painstakingly slowly, his eyes trained on our joined hands on the counter. ‘May I take you out tonight? You’ll bring the shoe?’
Oh Witt, what are you doing? I roll my eyes skywards as if any listening deities might be able to shed light on the matter. He’s only offering out of embarrassment. I can feel his pulse hammering in his fingertips and see how desperately he wants her to leave so he can get his breath back and stop his chest heaving the staccato beat it’s currently fighting.
‘Of course, Mr Prince! The 1001 Nights restaurant! 7p.m. Don’t be late!’
‘What’s your name?’ He calls after her, but she’s already gone.
‘Witt, you can’t really think…’
