Page 36 of Finding Love at the Magical Curiosity Shop
‘No. Um…’ He stops pacing and looks down at himself. ‘I suppose, theoretically, I could sleep in these, but I think they call it loungewear.’
‘So you do wear sensible clothes sometimes then.’
‘I wear sensible clothes all the time!’
‘Sensible within context,’ I clarify. ‘There are times when youdon’tneed to look like you’re going for a board meeting with the headmaster.’
It’s not just his clothes that are different tonight. He’s wearing black jogging bottoms and a long-sleeve grey marl top, trainers on his feet, and there’s no product in his hair, so instead of being held down, it’s blowing around in the summer evening breeze, thick, straight, and choppy, and oh-so-touchable, and there’s a smattering of black stubble darkening his jawline, which is also worryingly touchable because my fingers are twitching with the urge to reach out towards him.
‘I don’t always…’
‘It’s a shield, I get it,’ I say – a throwback to what he said to me when we met at the library, and I suddenly understand how he knew that. He wears practical clothes and keeps his hair neatly battened down because it’s something he can control when he feels like he’s losing control of other aspects of his life. I understand that. I can dye my hair red and slip on Ursula’s shell necklace and tuck a billowing fake flower behind my ear, and I feel like IbecomeAriel while I’m in the shop, and it’s nice not to feel like me for a while. Ren clings onto being someone wholookslike he’s in control of his life, even when hefeelslike everything is spiralling out of his grasp.
He continues pacing. ‘Sorry I’m so late. I wanted to come earlier, but it’smewho owes you an apology and I didn’t want to do it with Ava in tow. She’s staying over at her grandparents’ tonight and I was late dropping her off, then I was rushing to try to catch you before you left the shop to save turning up at your house uninvited, and between that and putting together the stuff forthis, I forgot to change into anything else…’ He stops pacing again and holds up the basket he’s carrying, and I’m intrigued by how nervous he seems.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a “Sorry I was an arsehole” hamper.’
Despite my best efforts in trying not to, I burst out laughing again. He has no right to be this funny during what should be a serious apology. ‘Is that the official name?’
‘It should be.’ He holds it out to me and my fingers brush against his as I take it, and then nearly drop it at the unexpected weight. ‘Seriously, Mickey. I was cruel andwayout of line. The feelings of inadequacy catapulted me back in time, but you didn’t deserve my reaction, and I’m sorry.’
He’s pacing again, and instead of pushing further, I lift one side of the basket lid and look through the contents. It’s a little picnic hamper. There are shop-bought sandwiches, mini sausage rolls, savoury muffins, cocktail sausages, cheese bites, a box of fancy chocolates, and a bottle of wine. ‘You didn’t have to do anything like this, Ren.’
‘I wanted to. I care about you, Mick, and I feltsoguilty when I walked away on Friday. Ava will tell you it took me ages to drive off because I didn’t want to leave it like that, but she convinced me it was better to give you some space because I’d probably have made everything worse by trying to patch things up there and then, so I left it, and time got away from me, and now it’s late and… I don’t know where I’m going with this sentence full of excuses.’
It makes me giggle again because I adore his honesty. He’sgoodat apologising and he’s endearingly nervous, and the hamper is so thoughtful that I can’t help being touched.
‘I think you’re stunning.’
The words burst out of his mouth like an explosion and he stops pacing, flashes a look in my direction, and starts up pacing again. I concentrate on his feet traipsing across the pavement to avoid thinking about what that means as he hurries to clarify.
‘I didn’t finish that sentence the other day and I should have. I think you’restunning. Not in a beautiful way… Wait, I mean,yes, in a beautiful way, because youare. Your blue eyes, your smile that lights up this entire shop, your bright hair that I want to wind my fingers in…’ He lets out a shuddery breath and shakes his head at himself.
He can talk with his thick, blacktouchablehair waving around like that. It may as well be screaming, ‘Stroke me!’
‘But also in the sense that I feel stunned when I’m in your presence. Every time I see you, I feel like I’m not myself, and when I said that sentence on Friday, I simultaneously realised all the most honest endings to it, so I picked a fight instead of confronting it like an adult, and I’m sorry.’
‘I’m sorry too. I got too personal and said too much in front of Ava. Things I know you wouldn’t want her to hear, and I shouldn’t have presumed to know you better than I do.’
‘You do. The stuff I’ve told you in the last couple of weeks, I’ve never admitted to anyone before, maybe not even myself. I…’ He makes a noise of frustration and pushes a hand through his beautiful hair. ‘My security is in planning and being prepared. My ex-wife was erratic and spontaneous and I can’t deal with that sort of thing any more. I need to know what’s going to happen – where, when, why, how – and Ava wants menotto be like that, and you suggesting we jump in the car and go to Arfordir-Môr-Forwyn is exactly what Ava wishes I was like and it made me feel inadequate and angry at myself that I can’t be like that, and I took that out on you. It took me right back to the final days of my marriage, and Ava said exactly what my ex used to say – about being dull, no fun, and ruining everything, and I curled myself into a metaphorical ball and shot my angry spikes out as a defence mechanism.’
I hold my hand out and wait for him to stop pacing and reach out to take it, and when he does, I give his fingers a squeeze, because even though I’d gathered as much, it makes a difference to hear him say it so openly. Relationship breakdowns are a type of grief, and sometimes the most unexpected thing can dredge up unwanted flashbacks.
He makes an indefinable noise while staring at our joined hands, his fingers tightening slowly around mine. Eventually he shakes his head again without dropping my hand. ‘I shouldn’t have insulted your shop like that. Your shop is beautiful, it’s very you andyou’revery unique and Ilikefeeling like “part of your world” when I’m here, and youshouldn’tchange it because of my opinion.’ He’s short of breath because the words have spilled out so fast that it’s like a form of physical exercise.
‘Breathe, Ren.’ I give his hand a tug, and he lets out a long breath and looks up at the sky for a moment, trying to centre himself.
‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ Watching him, my eyes fall on the Full Moon Forest beyond, the woodland area surrounding the castle and I blurt the question out before I’ve thought it through.
‘A walk?’ It sounds like he’s never heard the word before.
‘You put one foot in front of the other and aim for a destination? Often favoured by dogs and people trying to get fit? Also, this picnic won’t eat itself, will it?’ I reach down and pat the handle of the basket where I’ve put it on the floor.
He laughs a disjointed little laugh. ‘I haven’t heard of self-consuming picnics, no. But I wasn’t trying to be presumptuous or imply you had to invite me or anything.’
‘Well, any picnic will taste better shared, sitting by the river on a warm summer’s night. Unless you need to get back for Ava?’
