Page 35 of Finding Love at the Magical Curiosity Shop
‘Well, I can’t be spontaneous and pop off here, there, or anywhere at a moment’s notice. I need things carefully planned and?—’
‘—Executed with military precision,’ Ava mutters. ‘While having nofunwhatsoever.Whhhhycan’t you let us enjoy something for once?’
He glances at her without answering and then back at me with a withering look on his face. ‘You don’t need to find evidence of a fictional creature to make this shop work – you need to change it.’
‘Iamchanging it.’ I re-fold my arms, feeling knocked off-kilter by his sudden unexpected animosity.
‘No, you’re not. You’ve thrown out a few things, not even a car full, but this whole place needs an overhaul, and you’re going to end up losing it if you don’t get your head out of the sand and into the real world.’
I blink in surprise. ‘Wow, that was harsh, Ren.’
‘Iamharsh. I’m not a big softie who secretly loves dragon fruit tables. I’m a responsible father with real-life responsibilities and a real world to live in. And you… you’re focusing on the diary to avoid the reality of how alone you are. You’ve replaced truth with stories and people with things.’
‘Because things don’t hurt me!’ I snap in retaliation. ‘Objects don’t die and leave me on my own. Objects don’t promise a life together and then change their minds. So yeah, okay, recently it’s been nicer to make up stories than to face reality, because guess what, reality is rubbish. Asyouknow all too well. You’re not exactly well-adjusted, are you? You’ve shut yourself down and pushed everyone away, and now you take your frustration out on people who have done nothing to deserve it. You pretend to be cold and unfeeling, but you’re a ball of barbed wire twisted around a “please don’t hurt me” sign, desperately wanting some love and excitement in your quiet life.’
His sharp blue eyes narrow as he looks at me. ‘You don’t know anything about me. About us. You don’t know us. You’re a stranger in a shop who we met two and a half weeks ago, and whatIam is leaving.Now.’ He turns around and stalks away. ‘Ava, come on!’
‘No, I—’ She tries to protest but he’s already stormed out the door.
‘I’m so sorry about him,’ she says to me with tears in her eyes. ‘He’s totally out of line. You’re awesome. I’m going to yell at him on your behalf.’
‘Thanks,’ I murmur to the empty shop after she’s left and I watch through the window as she rushes after him as he marches down the street. I feel like I’ve been verbally slapped round the face. That came out ofnowhere, and it’s made me feel uncomfortably bristly, because I don’t think I did anything to deserve it, and yet, I understand Ren’s got many layers of baggage, and something about my suggestion has rubbed him up the wrong way, even though it was unintentional.
I should probably be angry, but it makes me want to cry. I didn’t expect that many home truths, or that his outburst would be so accurate. Ihavebeen hiding out in the shop since my dad died. Ihavespent too much time making up sentimental stories about objects because doing that has made the world a little bit nicer to live in since my dad died. I’ve felt less alone because I’m surrounded by things I’ve attached romantic stories too, and it’s made me feel better about the fact that real life is theoppositeof a romantic story. A coping mechanism, maybe, just like I think his blunt honesty and prickliness is a coping mechanism too, and mainly I’m sad and dejected because I really,reallylike that man, and I’d thought we understood each other better than that.
10
For someone I keep telling myself I’m angry with, Ren has moved into my head rent-free. It’s been two days, and I’m in the shop but my attention is elsewhere, because I keep expecting him to come to apologise, but there’s no sign of him. I refuse to text him after that argument, even though I should probably apologise for some of the things I said too, especially in front of Ava.
The empty recycling boxes he brought back are in the cornered-off area of the back room, so instead, I take his comments to heart and stalk around the shop, being brutal. He’s right that I haven’t fully accepted the idea of downsizing my stock, but Ihavebeen wholly committed to coming up with excuses about why I absolutelymustkeep something-or-other, rather than embracing the change and admitting that some of this stuff needs to go.
I pick up an ugly totem-like stack of tribal masks that, if I’m honest, probablyisn’ta good luck charm passed down through family generations as I’ve told myself, and in reality, is cheaply made by someone who, presumably, did it with a blindfold on, which is the only explanation for its quirky shape and questionable colour scheme.
I keep thinking about the diary too, and how much I want to spend a couple of days in Arfordir-Môr-Forwyn, but the thought of doing it alone, without Ren and Ava, has made the idea lose its shine.
The thing I’m loving most about this diary is the sense of the three of us being in it together. It’s made me realise how lonely I’ve been, even though Lissa and the other Ever After Street shopkeepers make an effort to check in on me often, but it’s only a quick hello at the start or end of each day. Ren and Ava are the first people I’ve shared any part of myself with in a very long time, and I miss themboth, even though it hasn’t been forty-eight hours since the argument yet.
I pick up a vase in the shape of a head with a crown of grapes, and immediately want to point out yet another fruit-based item, but there’s no one to point it outto, and it makes the loneliness press down even harder, because I know Ren would laugh, and Ava would probably want to take it home.
I glance at it again and then add it to the charity shop box. Ava’s taste isn’t that bad, but maybe someone will love it one day, just not in this shop. It’s one of the many things that have been gathering dust on my shelves for years. ‘Stock turnaround, Mickey love,’ my dad would have said. It makes me look around again with a more critical eye.
Some of this stuff really has been here for so long that it would take a miracle to shift it now, but instead of taking away things that haven’t sold and keeping the stock fresh for my small group of regular customers, I just keep piling new stuff out and squeezing it into the very limited available spaces. No wonder this place is a disaster.
I lose track of time as I work. It’s Sunday and the shop has been quiet, although yesterday was much busier than usual, maybe thanks to what Ava and I did to the pavement outside on Friday. The empty space out there seemed to encourage people to come in much more than the clutter ever had, so I decided to come back in today and apply the same theory to the inside of the shop. I’ve barely looked up since mid-afternoon, never mind noticed how dark it’s getting outside, until there’s a knock on the door, and I stop for the first time in hours and realise it’s gone 8p.m., my stomach is loudly announcing that I’ve skipped dinner, and my dry mouth is telling me how long it’s been since my last cup of tea.
The knock comes again and I go through to the main part of the shop and unlatch the door, cautious of who would be knocking at this time of night when Ever After Street itself is long since closed to the public.
‘Oh, thank God, I didnotexpect you to be here.’ Ren is carrying a basket and pacing back and forth outside, and I breathe a sigh of relief because, firstly, it’s not a robber, but mainly because it’shim.
‘I wouldn’t have been, normally, but someone gave me a reality check the other day, so here I am, embracing the decluttering. Besides, you know where I live, you gave me a lift home after the library a couple of weeks ago.’
‘That was my next plan, but it felt a bit stalkery and I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me. And you probably have business insurance that would cover any grievous bodily harm on the shop premises, whereas if you disembowelled me on your own property, the home insurance premiums would be a nightmare.’
I didn’t intend to laugh, but I can’t stop myself. Typical Ren, always practical, even when it comes to his own potentially gruesome maiming.
‘Before you slam the door in my face or dismember me in a horrible and totally deserved fashion, I am a despicable human being who shouldn’t be allowed to play with others, and I’m so sorry about the other day.’
It softens every inch of the annoyance that was still lingering towards him and I pull the door open fully and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. I’ve always thought he was gorgeous, but I didn’t know there werethismany other levels of gorgeous. ‘Are you wearing pyjamas?’
