Page 33 of Christmas Ever After
‘You’re helping me.’
‘It’s my fault you’re in this position. The least I can do is help out.’
‘And it’smyfault thatyou’reinthisposition. The least I can do is help out,’ I fire back at him. ‘I’m pretty much useless for anything physical for another seven weeks but if I can see matches to be made, why shouldn’t I do something about it? Why shouldn’t we help each other where we can? Call it levelling the playing field.’
He realises I’m using his own words against him, but the eyebrow he raises is so disbelieving that it feels like something has physically stung me. Whywouldhe believe me? He and I have nitpicked about each other’s shops since he started here. We’ve traded insults at Ever After Street meetings, and tried our hardest to deter potential customers from going in, and now, only one of us can stay here. ‘I’m sorry I ever said that at the meeting in November. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry I’ve held my parents’ relationship against you so hard without ever knowing you.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Fran.’
Fran. No one’s ever shortened my name to that before, it’s always Franc. It should probably be insulting. People I’veknown for years don’t shorten my name, but with Raff, it makes something in my chest feel soft and gooey.
‘Don’t worry about the matches. This is an easy win for you. My shop is dying. It’s run its course.’
‘So rebrand. Change. Get rid of the gimmick and go back to doing what you love. Itisn’tyour grandfather’s shop any more – it’s yours. Do whateveryouneed to do because the Dardenne legacyhasto be yours now, not his. And honestly, I’m worried about you, Raff. You seem like you can’t go on.’
He looks at me, and the last thing I expect is to watch his eyes well up with tears.
He blinks furiously and turns away, and then swears, trying to swipe the backs of his hands over his face. ‘I can’t wipe my eyes, I’ve got wet paint all over me.’
‘I haven’t.’ I use my left hand to urge him to turn back towards me, cup the side of his jaw, and his eyes drift closed, letting me gently wipe away tears with my thumb. I can’t help wondering how on earth we ended up in this position. How is it that I’ve sobbed into Raphael Dardenne’s chest, hugged him, loved spending time with him, and now I’m holding his face in my hand, brushing away tears that I’ve somehow caused? And fighting a really,reallystrong urge to lean in and kiss the cheek that my thumb is rubbing over.
He’s always cleanshaven and I can feel his skin heating up under my hand, but he hasn’t been brave enough to open his eyes yet. ‘Sorry, I did warn you – I’m a hugger and a crier.’
‘If only more men were. C’mere.’ I let my left hand tangle in his hair and tug his head down to my shoulder, and then rest my cheek against it. ‘What’s wrong?’
He lets out a long breath. ‘It’s just… That’s exactly it. That’sexactlyhow I’ve been feeling and you’re the first person who’s ever put it into words. Ilovesnow globes but the joy of making them is lost. I can’t let my family know. They’d be devastated.I’m supposed to be the strong one, the one who’s stepped into our granddad’s shoes, and I’m…’
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but I can finish it for him. Lost. Floundering. Grieving, maybe. Raff has talked a lot about how much his family miss Claude, but very little about how muchhedoes, and yet I know they were close. Instead, I curl my fingers tighter in his hair and try to rub his back with my elbow.
As long minutes pass in silence, it starts to dawn on me why he’s so apathetic to the possible eviction in January and why he’s so determined to help me. ‘Do youwantto lose the shop?’
‘Sometimes.’
I get the feeling it’s something he’s never said aloud before. ‘What about this place? I’ve always thought that you love Christmas Ever After?’
My fingers automatically card through his straight hair and he pushes out a breath, sounding like he’s forcing himself to relax. ‘I do. I’ve made snow globes for my granddad’s shop for decades. This place has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I love the atmosphere, the community, the support from our fellow shopkeepers. The fact no one thinks it’s weird if you’re singing Christmas songs in July. I can’t think of anywhere better to work. But…’ He moves his head against my shoulder to get more comfortable. ‘…it would be an answer to a question that I don’t know how to answer. Because you’re right, Ican’tcarry on. It would be an excuse to start over, to do something different…’
‘Different from making snow globes or different from the gimmicky love aspect?’
‘The gimmicky love aspect. I never want to stop making snow globes – I just want people to stop seeing it as a way to find love. I can’t live up to my granddad’s legacy.’
It’s not the first time he’s said something similar, but I never realised how deep it ran. ‘Good. Your strengthisthatyou’re not him, Raff. Every shop needs to move with the times and the generation who runs it. If Sofia was to take over from you in however many years’ time, would you expect her to do everything exactly as you’d done it, or would you want her to change things to suit her style, her feelings, and her own vision?’
We both know what his answer would be, so instead of replying, he says, ‘It strikes me that you’re the wrong person to be talking to about this. Wouldn’t you love nothing more than to see Love Is All A-Round come to an end?’
I turn until I can rub my chin against his hair. ‘I’d like to see the end of whatever it is that puts those dark circles under your eyes and the exhaustion in your voice that has nothing to do with physical tiredness. I never knew how much you were struggling. If I had, I’d like to think I’d have been kinder.’
‘And I’d have’ – his head moves to look at my splinted hand where it’s resting on my thigh – ‘looked before I stepped off that stool if I’d realised how much pain it would cause.’
He reaches over and brushes the back of his fingers over the sensitive skin of my inner forearm, above the splint, and his gentleness makes me shiver, and I let my hand drop from his hair, and back to my lap.
He goes to take hold of my hand and then stops himself. ‘Sorry, I’m covered in paint.’
‘I spend my life with paint all over me. I don’t mind.’ I slide my hand over his and he immediately tangles our fingers together and squeezes, and then he lifts my hand to his mouth and presses his lips to the back of it, right on the edge, just above my wrist.
I go light-headed for a moment. Another shivery tingle runs through me and his lips shift into a smile against my skin, like he knows exactly the effect that had.
‘Let me help, Raff. Let me help you like you’re helping me. What if we can save both our shops? If we canbothmeet therequirements and prove to the council that we can be friends now, that there will be no more squabbling and no atmosphere between us, then they’ll have to let us both stay, andthenyou can decide where to go from there. If you want to leave, it has to be for the right reasons, not because you don’t know whatelseto do.’
