Page 62 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
‘This is making the same mistake twice and really bloody enjoying it.’ Every word is punctuated by kisses and his voice is so breathy that I laugh into the kiss, my fingers wound in his hair tightly enough to pull it out, his hands splayed on my hip, one underneath my loose jumper, his fingertips burning into the skin of my lower back, and I let out such an indecent-sounding moan that it makes him laugh, but his laugh quickly turns into a groan when it gives me a chance to press closer against him, his leg between mine, and his hands move, running down my body like he’s about to lift me up onto the desk…
‘At least someone’s having a good morning.’ A woman clears her throat in the doorway, and we both screech in shock at the unexpected interruption and dive apart. I’d got so caught up that I’d forgotten where we are, never mind the fact that we’re open to customers.
‘Sorry, dears, I’d have left you to it but walking up those steps isn’t for the faint of heart at my age and I couldn’t face coming back again later.’ The elderly lady is leaning on a walking stick, looking red in the face, although whether it’s tiredness or embarrassment because of walking in onthatis anyone’s guess.
Warren rushes over to turn the music back down to a non-offensive level and smooths his mussed-up hair out, his chest heaving, and I race back behind the desk as she hobbles over and pays her entrance fee.
My hands are shaking as I hand her a map postcard, and try not to die of mortification. At least she’s alone and doesn’t have any impressionable young children with her.
I decide to face it head on. ‘Sorry about that. We’re not usually so unprofessional first thing in the morning. Mitigating, er, circumstances.’
‘Yes, very mitigating.’ She gives Warren an appreciative look as he comes back over. ‘I was the same when I was your age and I met my husband. Thirty years later and he still steals an unexpected kiss now and then. You two enjoy yourselves while you’re young enough not to have to worry about certain positions flaring up sciatica and being able to enjoy yourselves like that without pulling a muscle!’
Warren and I both laugh marginally deranged laughs, and the lady is still leaning on her walking stick and looking out of breath, and he hits on an excuse to get himself out of this cringeworthy situation. ‘Water! I’ll get you a glass of water! Be right back!’
The lady reaches over to pat my hand. ‘You make the most of it, my love. It’s not every day you find one like that.’
‘No, it’s not.’ I glance up the stairs after him.
It’sreallynot.
* * *
If it’s not every day you find a man like Warren Berrington, it’s certainly easy enough to lose him.
After quite a few visitors this morning, Warren has made himself scarce. He disappeared into the garden ages ago, and now it’s lunchtime and he still hasn’t come back. I stand at the top of the steps and survey Ever After Street, but it’s quiet enough that I can justify closing the door and putting the ‘gone for lunch’ sign out, and I venture round the side of the building and into the garden, unsure if he’s avoiding me after what happened this morning.
He’s sitting on one of the log benches with his legs stretched out in front of him, his head leaning back against the tree trunk, his eyes closed and the low autumn sun streaming onto his face.
I step between him and the sunlight, casting a shadow that makes him open his eyes and look at me. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Listening to birdsong. I canhearbirdsong, Liss. I didn’t realise…’ His voice catches and he has to stop and take a breath. ‘I didn’t realise how long it had been since I heard a bird singing. I forgot how much I was missing. There’s so much I’ve let pass me by and I hadn’t realised until you pushed me to.’
He closes his eyes and shifts until the sun hits his face again, basking in it, and it makes me wonder how much time he spends outside in his day-to-day job, because I get the impression it mainly involves staring at the four walls of an office.
‘I’m in love. With this place. With how I feel when I’m here. With…’ His eyes open and fall on me, but he doesn’t complete the sentence, but the look he gives me makes those butterflies take flight again, except this time, they’re joined by a million more and they’re all outrageously fluttery.
‘I thought you might be avoiding me.’
‘No. Why on earth would I be avoiding you? I guess you could say I’m avoiding the temptation to do something inappropriate in front of visitors… That was a close call this morning. I forgot where we were, lost my mind, took leave of my senses. I’ve never done anything so unprofessional in my life before then… and I loved every bloody minute of it,’ he says with a naughty grin and waggling eyebrows.
The throwback to his words in the middle of the kiss makes my stomach flutter and I go hot all over, and the temptation to simply dive on him and snog him senseless again has to be stamped downhard.
I try to keep my sensible hat firmly on. ‘I’m sorry about earlier. The whole thing. I shouldn’t have been so bold when I didn’t know for certain it was reciprocated.’
‘Don’t apologise for being brave. I’ve wanted to do that for weeks now and it’s been impossible to hide. I’mgladyou were braver than me. You kissed me out of sheer joy at seeing me trying to accept my issues – that makes me the luckiest man alive.’
The words and the infinite smile on his face makes the butterflies swoop inside me again, and he opens his arms, inviting me to straddle his lap and do it again and I can’t get down there fast enough.
I take his face in my hands and let my fingers brush gently over his ears and into his hair, and he makes a wanton noise in the back of his throat and pushes up until his mouth crashes into mine, and it’s such a relief to know that we bothwantthis and I haven’t been second-guessing his signals or misinterpreting whatever it is I’m feeling towards him, and it all floods out into an impassioned kiss that leaves us both panting for breath and really, really uncomfortable. Who knew that fallen log benches weren’t designed for fevered kissing?
When the pain spearing through my knees wins, I sit down beside him instead and he drops an arm around me, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulls me tight against his side, and we drift into slow and lazy sunshine kisses, my hands stroking his thigh, running over his chest, a gentle feeling of relief because it’s been building up formonthsand now it’s out there, in the open, and everything feels right with the world for a moment.
Contented quietness has fallen over the garden. My head is against his shoulder, his chin resting on it, moving only to drop occasional kisses on my forehead, and his hand is inside my mass of colourful curls, his fingers running up and down my back, and I could quite happily fall asleep right here.
‘Is the well significantly older than the rest of the building?’ He sounds like he could too, and when I lift my head far enough to see his face, he’s smiling softly and looking at the wishing well.
‘I have no idea. Why?’
