Page 43 of Dreams Come True at the Fairytale Museu
I look across at him and his cheeks are flushing brighter by the second, but neither of us look away, and I want to press him on those words, to ask about what he thought he’d be doing with his life versus what heisdoing with it, but it feels like the wrong moment, and the opportunity passes when he clears his throat and breaks eye contact to look back at the book on his lap, and then he leans over and holds it out to me.
On the page is the most recent version of his logo vision. He’s added sparkles and tiny stars around the top part and it’s such a perfect, beautiful addition that I have to bite my lip to stop myself welling up. I wasn’t sure he’d ever really understand this place, but this is absolute proof that hegetsit, and I’m surprised by the sense of relief I feel.
Like he can tell I’m fighting to contain my emotions, he leans forward and taps the sketchbook I’m still holding. ‘It’s circular so it’ll fit on supermarket trolley tokens. Keyrings. Coasters. I like a nice coaster.’
I laugh so hard and so unexpectedly that it takes me a few moments to recover. ‘You have a knack for saying sentences I’ve never heard before and never thought I would.’
He looks confused. ‘Who doesn’t love a good coaster?’
‘I don’t know. Some of us just prefer mug stains on the tables.’
‘No one prefers mug stains on their tables.’ He leans over and takes the sketchbook from my hands and sits back again to add another few sparkles, and I instinctively push myself up on the desk and reach over to stop him.
‘This is perfect. I know I baulked when you suggested a logo all those weeks ago, but I imagined something corporate and meaningless, not something that captures the essence of the museum like this, and makes it look so inviting. If I saw this,I’dwant to come here. You make it look like such a… home.’
‘It is.Youmake it into a warm and inviting home.’ He holds my gaze again for a long moment and then looks away and quickly adds, ‘For all the sentient exhibits, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’ I chew on my lip and echo his words, but I’m certain there’s a deeper meaning there.
‘Bookmarks.’ He redirects the subject back to the gift shop. ‘If we come up with some clever slogans or something, we could put them on bookmarks with the logo and a link to the website on the back… Magnets. Mugs. Pens. The possibilities are endless, but at least with this, you can build a real brand for the museum and tie everything together with one logo. Ooh, tote bags! Everyone loves a tote bag. And badges! You and I could wear badges so people can identify us as staff.’
I laugh at how enthusiastic he is about the gift shop. It was something I never thought would be worthwhile, but now it’s something I wish I’d done years ago. The dressing-up aspect has always had its problems, and he cut through all my waffling about it and saw exactly what needed to be changed, and I hadn’t realised how much I needed that.
Now I’ve stopped him tweaking the already perfect design, he leans back in the reclining chair and looks up at me. ‘What were you up to?’
‘Fixing Moana. Someone had tried on her flower crown.’
‘Ah, yeah, I’ve got a bone to pick with you about that. Is thereanyDisney movie thatwon’tmake me cry? Because I watched that last night and when her grandma died in the beginning, I am hideously ashamed to admit that I bawled like a baby. These movies are turning me into an emotional wreck.’
I’m not sure which I like more – the fact he cries at Disney movies or the fact he openly admits it. ‘What that tells me is that we should watch more Disney films together because I feel like I need to witness that.’
‘I would be remarkably okay with that, even though I’m a grown man who should not be getting emotional at animated children’s films.’
‘The most attractive thing about any man is his feelings and a lack of fear when it comes to showing them.’
‘Then I must be George Clooney.’ He waggles both eyebrows.
He thinks he’s joking, and while George is certainly okay, I don’t think he’s a patch on Warren Berrington. ‘Georgewisheshe had your hair.’
He laughs in a disbelieving way, but his face has gone redder than red, and we grin at each other across the desk, and then he considers something for a moment and beckons me to come round to his side. ‘There’s something else I wanted to show you, but it’s just an idea, something you mentioned a while back and I played around with…’
He pulls another piece of paper out from his sketchbook and holds it up to show me, and I stand next to him and look over his shoulder.
On the paper is a pencil-sketched drawing of… a floorplan? It takes me a minute to understand what I’m seeing, and I can’t help the intake of breath when I do.
The mini-map I mentioned weeks ago that I’d wanted to get made but was too expensive to even consider commissioning… he’sdrawnit. And not just drawn it, but drawn an absolutely beautiful, eye-catching map of the building that could not be anymoreperfect.
He’s got the black and white checkerboard floor look of the lobby, with a ‘you are here’ arrow at the front desk, and then small depictions of the Prince and Princess Suites on one side, the Fairytale Homes hall on the other, and the soon-to-be gift shop, customer bathrooms, the stairs with a barrier crossing it off because I spend half my days answering questions about whether there’s anything up there, and he’s paid attention to that without me saying a word.
The whole thing is inside a cloud, and to fill the empty space around the edges, he’s doodled the shapes of glass shoes, the genie’s lamp, Rapunzel’s sun symbol, Ariel’s seashells, and enchanted rose petals.
It’s the sweetest, most thoughtful gesture, something I hadn’t even thought of again, and a real display of understanding this place, but also of how much research he’s been doing for someone who’d never even heard of most fairytales a month ago, and it’s the first time that I havezerodoubt that his intentions are honourable and he really, truly cares about Colours of the Wind. No one could put so much effort into something they weren’t fully committed to.
‘It’s just doodling.’ He sounds endearingly nervous, like he honestly expected me not to like it. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t hav?—’
Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve thrown my arms around his chair from behind and dragged it back against me, causing him to slide backwards and his feet to fall off the desk and hit the floor with a thunk.
He makes a choked-off noise that sounds like he’s swallowed his own tongue as my arms tighten around his chest and hug him, despite the chair’s high back between us.
