Page 47 of A Midnight Kiss on Ever After Street
Maybe you think I only noticed your beautiful dress, but I didn’t. I noticed your eyes, your smile, your kindness, your humour and sense of fun, and most importantly, the way everything changed when I met you.
I am no Prince Charming. I’m clumsy and awkward and I work too much. I’ve never met an inanimate object that I didn’t try to make conversation with. I’ve also never met anyone who understood me like you did.
I don’t think you wanted to leave – I think you had to, and I can understand the lengths that we have to go to sometimes to please people who don’t see how special we are.
Will you give me a second chance? At the second chance ball, to be held on Sunday, June 11th, I will be waiting in the place where we kissed. Please be brave. Please let me see you as you are – because I think we had something special. Something worth exploring in all its inconvenient, unexpected joy.
It’s written on a proper invitation card, a digital replica of the one we received the first time around. His gentle way of assuaging my fears. It’s the first time he’sreallyhinted that he felt something special that night too, and his voice is inside my head, speaking each word into my ear, like he’s written it only for me.
Apart from the fact it’s been shared 300,000 times and the comments range from sentimental to lewd at best.
I ignore all that. Witt’s right, no one will ever find that secret garden except for me and him, and I’m staring at the invitation on my phone and daydreaming about how it will go. From his words, Iwantto believe he’ll understand, that he’ll realise why I didn’t immediately tell him who I was, and why I’mstillannoyed at him for not recognising me. He knows about Ebony and how much The Cinderella Shop means to me – hehasto understand why I had to make the most of an opportunity to save it when it was going under. Maybe we’ll dance again. Maybe we’ll say, ‘I wanted it to be you all along,’ and run into each other’s arms, and the kiss will go on forev—
I’m blasted out of the daydream by a car horn and the rev of an engine right under my window, and I roll over to the other side of the bed and push myself up to peer out. The rose Witt gave me that night is still in a vase on the bay window ledge; a few sad petals have fallen to the shelf around it, but it stands as though it’s got a glass cloche over it, marking the passage of time before the spell is broken.
I groan when I recognise the car that’s pulled up, but even the groan is cut off by a sharp hammering on the downstairs door.
I knew Ebony’s cruise ship was docking in Southampton tonight, but I didn’t realise she’d come straight here.
I glance at the clock. Ten minutes past midnight. She’s got a thing about this time of night. There’s nothing but a bedside lamp glowing inside, so she must realise I’m asleep or trying to make it so, but if anything it just makes the hammering louder.
It’s not particularly cold tonight, but I heave myself out of bed and shrug my dressing gown on, flicking on the stairway light to alert her to my presence and make her stop the hammering before she wakes the neighbouring counties and starts rousing people across the border in Wales.
I knew this confrontation was coming, but I expected it in the morning when Scarlett would be here to back me up. Ebony’s been mercifully quiet on her cruise, and apart from a few curt texts, we’ve heard nothing and as of yet have no idea if she’s discovered what we’ve been doing in her absence.
Judging by the hammering, she most definitelyhas. And I’m alone to face her wrath.
‘Whatdo you think you’re playing at?’ Ebony screeches when she hears my key in the other side of the lock. ‘I go away for two tiny little weeks and trust you not to wreck the place, and you go behind my back and start selling things that arenotfor sale, and—’
‘Good evening to you too, Aunt Ebony.’ I squeeze out of the door in the smallest gap possible and shut it quickly, lest she get any ideas about going up to the flat and finding the dresses that she’s never meant to find.
‘No, it isnota good evening! Christ in a wheelbarrow, you’ve got some explaining to do. What were you thinking? How did you think you were going to get away with this? Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you think I wouldn’t wonder what was going on at the sudden increase in followers, the number of people tagging us on social media, all the photos shared, customers talking and tagging and sharing photos ofother people’sdresses?’
‘They’re not other people’s dresses. Other people returned them, therefore they’re now ours to do what we want with. And increases in followers and pictures of our dresses are generally a good thing. For the first time in ages, people aretalkingabout The Cinderella Shop—’
‘In embarrassment! They’re laughing at us for making a mockery of our unique guarantee! As if that monstrosity in the window wasn’t bad enough with this stupid Cinderella thing, and now there’s another bleeding ball, and…’ She’s so indignant that she runs out of breath and has to stop.
I look up the hill towards the castle. There’s a light on in one of the towers. Witt’s still up. Just the thought of him brings a smile to my face. The way he supports me. The way he believes in me more than I’ve ever believed in myself. How much time he’s spent in the shop lately, helping out because Scarlett and I haven’t been able to keep up with the increase in customers. Tidying up, packing dresses into boxes or garment bags, convincing customers how much they need a dress and personally inviting them to the second-chance ball. Doing everything he can to help, for nothing in return.
Seeing the light in the castle makes me feel stronger than I usually would when faced with confrontation. Ebony isn’t always right. If I had done what my aunt said, I would never have met him. She was wrong about going to the ball, and she’s wrong about how to run The Cinderella Shop.
‘Have you finished?’
‘Finished?’ she bellows. ‘I haven’t started.’
‘Keep it down, will you? You’ll wake the entire street.’
‘Good! Someone should know about what you’ve been doing behind my back.Howdid you rope Scarlett into this?’
I decide to take the blame entirely. Scarlett might have backed me up, but it was me who started this; she doesn’t deserve any of Ebony’s fury. ‘I didn’t give her a choice. I did it while she was hairdressing; it was too late by the time she got back.’
Ebony taps her foot on the pavement. ‘I knew you’d both been suspiciously quiet. I was trying to have a relaxing break, but I thought I’d better check the socials to see if everything was all right, and thank God I did! What’s got into you, Sadie? I’ve never seen such insolence before. What on earth do you think you’ve been doing?’
‘Saving The Cinderella Shop.’
‘Saving it?’ she screams, like a particularly shrieky parrot. ‘You’re going against everything we stand for. Exclusivity is our business model and—’
‘And look how well it’s been going so far.’ I jump headfirst into the middle of her rant. ‘The shop is on its last legs because of your reliance on celebrity endorsements which count for nothing in this day and age. No one has got the kind of money celebrities have got. The returned dresses are just sitting there, waiting for the moths to get at them.’ I quietly explain about the second-chance dresses and the second-chance ball, but my calmness makes Ebony go even more nuclear.
