Page 39 of Finding Love at the Magical Curiosity Shop
I give his shoulder a squeeze, awkward at this angle, because that tells me so much about him. He’s been walked all over and then made to feel like he deserved it, and it gives me a real understanding of what I’d already worked out – that his straightforward manner stems from making sure no one else is going to get a chance to do that again. ‘No wonder you don’t now.’
‘I come from a place of instability,’ he says, like he’s trying to explain why he’d put up with so much to try to save a relationship that clearly wasn’t working for either of them. ‘When I was a child, my parents split up, then got back together again, then split up, then got back together, then split up, then got other partners, then had an affair with each other again, got back together, split up… the cycle repeated endlessly. I never knew whether they were going to stay together from one day to the next, or whether they were going to have a screaming row in a public place at any given moment. I could go to school in the morning and they’d be all lovey-dovey and happy, and then I’d come home to find my mum in the upstairs window, hurling my dad’s belongings onto the front lawn while he screamed up at her from the pavement outside. So I know what it’s like to come from an unstable background. I know what it does to a kid to watch their parents have a blazing row in front of their friends. I know what it was like to go to friends’ houses and see their normal, happy parents and want to stay forever. To wish I had a family like that. To never want to go home because I never knew what I’d be walking into. And I never wanted to be a parent like that. I wanted to find “the one” and be happy and settled and beenoughfor each other. I wanted her towantto come home and eat dinner together and go out for a family walk or cuddle up on the sofa and watch TV or read together. It’s not much, but those small, simple things are the little stabilities that meant a lot tome. Knowing that someonewantsto spend time together is special.’
He glances up at me, like he’s aware that he’s revealing too much, and I nod encouragingly because I’ve never been more desperate to hear something in my life.
‘I wanted to be who someone else wanted. I wanted to be enough. And I wasn’t. And now Ava has that instability and I’m trying,sohard, to be stable and steadfast, and maybe I’ve gone too far in the opposite direction, and now I’m too strict…’ He trails off with a shake of his head where it’s still leaning on my thigh.
‘This isn’t about Ava.’ I card my fingers through his soft hair again. ‘For right now, forthismoment, we’re talking about you. When you’re a parent, especially a single one, you become nothingbuta parent, but you’re still you, Ren, you still have feelings and needs and wants.’
‘Right now, Ineedto finish this wine and Iwantto hug you, and I’m pretty sure I know which one is the more sensible option.’
I grin as he sits forward to down the last of his drink and sets the mug down and then slumps back against the rock, and I lean over until I can slip my arms around his shoulders and give him a squeeze from behind.
It’s the most awkward angle in the history of awkward angles but he laughs tipsily and snuggles back, as much as youcansnuggle while sitting against a rock, and lets out a sigh that feels like a lead weight leaving his body. His hands come up and slip over mine where my arms are around his chest, and we stay like that until my back starts to protest the position just a bit too loudly and I have to pull away and straighten myself up.
He murmurs an apology and shifts again to look up at me without moving his head off my leg, and I look down and meet his glazed eyes and his answering smile is wide and definitely a little bit looser than usual.
Eventually, a fish jumps and reverts his attention towards the river, and I touch my reddening cheeks to see if they’re as hot as they feel under his gaze.
‘It’s so beautiful here.’
‘Ever After Street is a gorgeous place. My dad fell in love with it the moment he saw it. The area, the shopkeepers, the customers, even Mrs Moreno’s cat.’
He laughs loudly. ‘While I’m sure Mrs Moreno’s cat is truly a delight, I didn’t mean that, I meantthis, in general. Being here, being herewith you, being stuffed full of good food and even better wine, feeling this good. I know it won’t last but it’s been a long time since I felt this sense of contentment. Thank you for forcing me to open me up.’ He holds two hands up and clumsily mimes opening a clamshell, and it makes me narrow my eyes at him.
There’s a slight lisp to his words that makes me brush his hair back and look down into those glassy eyes again. ‘Are you a little bit drunk, Mr Montague?’
‘No! Nooo, of course not, don’t be—’ He lifts a hand and it flops back down onto his lap with a heavy thud, and he lifts his head and looks around in a way that suggests the world is spinning. ‘Oh, bugger.’
I let out a peel of laughter. ‘Never in the history of the world has anyone’s reaction to getting drunk been, “Oh, bugger.”’
‘I’ve only had half the bottle! I can’t be this much of a lightweight!’ He sits forward and drops his head into his hands, scrubbing them over his face. ‘Ineverdrink these days. I always worry about Ava and what if there was an emergency and I had to drive somewhere, so it’s beenyearssince I drank anything at all. Oh, God! This is awful!’ He flops back against the rock again, and I’m laughing so hard that I feel drunk myself, even though Lissa and I share enough bottles of wine thatmyliver is fully acclimatised to putting away half a bottle most weekends.
‘You areadorable.’ I lean over until I can hug him again, and he turns into me and hides his face in my shoulder and makes a noise of shame.
‘I didn’t even think…’
‘You don’t need to think. It’s not a bad thing to relax and let yourself go. I’ll take full responsibility for leading you astray.’
He groans and pulls his legs out from under himself and stretches out, half-reclining against my rock as he lies back, his head on my lap again, and looks up at the night sky. ‘Is it hot in here or is it me?’
‘It’s you, my blootered friend, it’s you.’ I touch the backs of my fingers to his red cheeks, becausehotdoesn’t come into it. He’s by far the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, with his ice-blue eyes and the dishevelled black hair, and that smattering of stubble shading his jawline, but it’s not just how he looks. It’s the beautiful, sensitive soul hiding underneath so many layers of pain and hostility and fear. Someone who wanted what we all want deep down in our souls – to be loved, to be wanted, exactly as we are – and there’s something gorgeous about someone who can show enough vulnerability to admit that, even if he’s got to be a little bit intoxicated to do so.
He scrubs a hand over his face. ‘Oh, God, I drove here. My car’s in the Ever After Street car park. I’m going to have to get a taxi home and come back to collect it tomorrow. I’m such an idiot.’
‘Ren, stop. It’s not the end of the world. People have done worse things than get a tad tipsy without meaning to. I’m within walking distance on the other side of the river, you can stay with me.’
He goes to protest but I interrupt him again. ‘You’ve got nowhere to be, nothing to do, no one to be responsible for tonight, and I’m your designated adult. Let yourself go. Enjoy giving up a tiny shred of control.’
‘Enjoy… I don’t think I’ve enjoyed anything for years…’
‘Andthat’sa problem.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ It’s a mumble as he reaches up and tangles his fingers with the hand on his shoulder, pulls it down, and brushes his lips across the back of my hand.
His stubble is soft rather than scratchy and it makes me feel even more overheated than I was feeling anyway, especially when he holds my hand against his lips for a long few minutes, and when he pulls away, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he keeps hold of it, resting it against his chest, right over his heart, as he lets out another sigh and tries to relax, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the base of my thumb, and I get the feeling he needs something to hold on to. I fight the urge to lean down and hug him again, because heisadorable, and I feel ridiculously privileged that someone who tries so hard to be in control ofeverythinghas trusted me enough to let that control slip just for a little while.
We talk about anything and nothing, likes and dislikes, getting to know each other better while his walls aren’t up, and time trickles past like the water, until it must be nearly midnight, but I’m trying to embrace this sense of peace too. Neither of us have anything else to do tonight, and there are worse ways to spend a warm summer’s evening than on a riverbank with a man who, no matter how much time I spend with him, it’s never enough, and this is the most serene and content I can remember feeling for a long time too, and I’d be happy if this night didn’t end anytime soon.
