Page 37 of Finding Love at the Magical Curiosity Shop
‘No, she’s at her grandparents’ until tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Good, because I’m starving. Come in while I get myself ready.’ I give his hand another tug, hard enough to pull him towards the door this time, and then tell him to wait while I run upstairs to the bathroom. My hair is tied up in a messy knot to keep it out of the way, but I check it for dust bunnies anyway, and then grab two mugs from the kitchen because I’m not drinking that bottle of wine alone, and I’m pretty sure Ren is too refined to glug from the bottle neck itself.
When I get back down the stairs, he’s in the other half of the shop, looking over the things I’ve put into the area for donating to charity. ‘And still, the dragon fruit table survives…’
I poke my tongue out at him. ‘Someone will love that damn thing one day and you’ll be the first person I text when it sells.’
‘It’s not going to sell. Have you ever eveneatena dragon fruit? They’re not easy to come by in the UK, I’ve never seen one down the local Tesco, have you?’
‘You’re hilarious.’ I pick up the basket and manhandle him towards the door. As much as I appreciate him apologising, I’ve heard enough of his opinions on my stock for one forty-eight-hour period, even though Ihaven’tever eaten one. ‘I have a candle that’s dragon fruit scented and it’s lovely, so it stands to reason that the dragon fruit table is rightly heralded by the person who made it for his dragon fruit-loving wife.’
He’s laughing as he lets me shove him out the door, and as I stop to lock up behind us, he takes the basket from my hand to carry it, and when I turn back to him, he’s got his arm hooked towards me, inviting me to slip my hand over it. The rational part of my brain tells me I shouldn’t get any closer to him, but the other part of my brain is floored by how soft around the edges he seems tonight, and I can’t stop myself slipping my fingers into the crook of his elbow and giving his forearm a squeeze through the thin material of his long-sleeve top.
He glances down at me and squeezes his arm closer to his side, so my fingers are held between his arm and his ribcage, and it doesn’t feel like any words are needed.
* * *
Birds are singing their evening chorus, and the odd bat flits around the streetlamps as we meander around the edge of the forest behind the shop. The river runs fiercely below us, but as you get further out behind the castle in the hills at the end of Ever After Street, the land turns flatter and the river becomes a trickling stream with stony beaches perfect for picnicking on, even in the dark. It’s not far from home, and when I was little, my dad and I used to walk our childhood dog down here all the time.
‘This is so beautiful,’ Ren murmurs as we wander along well-worn paths towards the lapping sound of the river.
I look up at him.Heis so beautiful. After my last relationship and losing my dad, I felt like every part of me that looked at men inthatway sputtered and went offline, but I can feel parts of myself tingling back to life because he’s something incredibly special, and yet, also incredibly unavailable. He’s still struggling with the hurt of the past, and he has Ava to worry about. She is rightfully his top priority, and after the strained relationship with his ex that still has a huge impact on both their lives, he’snevergoing to entertain the idea of getting into another relationship. The thought is so bizarre that it’s unfathomable.
‘What?’
I realise I’ve been staring at him while lost in thought, about him, and about the shop and life in general. Sometimes someone comes along and gives you a new perspective on things when you didn’t realise you needed it. ‘You were right, you know. In what you said. Ihavebeen hiding in the shop, surrounding myself withthingsand convincing myself that they have magical stories behind them to avoid making connections in real life. I have my best friend, Lissa, but other than that, I keep people at arm’s length. I don’t want to open myself up again. You and Ava are the first people I’ve spent any significant time with or shared anyrealpart of myself with, and it’s made me realise how lonely I’ve been. Ihavereplaced people with things and treated the things… almost like they were real?’ I say it questioningly, hoping it makes sense to him. ‘I invent the stories and then treat the objects like a physical incarnation of the imaginary people behind them, and I’ve put too much importance on that and treated them like stray animals looking for a forever home, rather than as things that someone needs to buy for my business to carry on, and stock that needs to be turned around semi-regularly, and I haven’t wanted to admit that some of the things need to be thrown away.’
‘Like the?—’
‘Not the dragon fruit table,’ I interrupt before he can say it, and he dissolves into laughter that warms my heart. I squeeze his arm again. ‘And you’re the first person who’s been honest enough to make me realise that, and I really appreciate it, even if it isn’t easy to hear sometimes.’
‘The way you treat things is endearing. You give objects a real importance and you care about themandthe people who buy them. Don’t change that because of what I’ve said. Your shop is full ofloveand that’s what makes it special. Noteverythinghas to be sensible and practical and dull and boring, like me.’
‘I don’t think you’re like that at all.’
‘What do you think I’m like then?’ He glances down at me and slips into third person. ‘He asks in trepidation, not sure if he really wants to know the answer.’
‘Bloody beautiful.’
He lets out a half-snort half-laugh half-gurgle type of noise. ‘Oh, Mickey…’
‘No. Seriously. Ava issolucky to have you.’ I look up at him again. ‘And your ex-wife is a twat. There are worse things someone can be than sensible and caring. And I think you’ve been hurt so badly that you struggle to see the good side now, and you’ve let other people’s words influence the way you see yourself.’
He takes a deep breath and I can see his cheek dent inwards as he bites the inside of it.
Instead of saying anything, I give his forearm another squeeze and lean my head to the side until it rests against his upper arm briefly, just a touch that’s not the hug I really want to give him, and he lets out another shivery breath and dips his chin until it brushes against the top of my head, and it feels nice, just the two of us on a dark summer evening, with no one expecting us to be anything other than exactly who we are.
11
By the time we reach the river, Ren’s laughing at how loudly my stomach is growling, and he helps me down the shallow bank and we slip-slide over the water-smoothed stones of the riverbed towards the gentle trickling of the water. The moon has risen in the sky and is reflecting on the surface as we find a stone perfect for sitting on.
It’s a big, curved boulder that you could recline on if you wanted averyuncomfortable recliner, and rather than squeezing onto it next to me, Ren untangles his arm from my hand and sits down on a smaller rock beside it, right at the edge of the water, close enough to dip our toes in.
The basket is between us, and while I go through it and pull out packets of picnic goodies, Ren gets out the two mugs I shoved in and opens the wine.
‘Cheers.’ He hands me a mug full of bubbling rosé, and then holds his own up to clink against it. ‘To new friends.’
I tap my mug against his and take a sip. ‘Tounexpectedfriends.’
