The following day is a Monday, six days before the second-chance ball, and when I get downstairs that morning and walk round the corner to open the shop, Witt’s waiting outside and I jump in surprise. ‘Good morning. What are you doing here?’
After the hint yesterday that he hasn’t been getting enough work done, I didn’t expect to see much of him for a while.
He goes to speak, but stops himself and gives me a helpless nod instead.
Something’s wrong. He’s pacing and rubbing his hands together as though he’s cold, even though it’s early June and the morning sun is catching the light of Ever After Street’s roof tiles and making them sparkle, and his frustration is already building at the struggle to get words out.
‘Are you okay? You look like you’ve been awake half the night.’
‘That’s good then, because I’ve been awake all the night.’
‘Oh, Witt. Why?’
‘I need to tell you somet—’ His voice cuts off and he does that head shake thing he does when there’s no option but to give up on a sentence.
‘Do you want to come in?’ I push the door open and step aside for him to duck in too before letting it close again. Maybe getting inside and away from any neighbours who might be watching will help.
I flick the lights on and go behind the counter. ‘Want a cuppa?’
He shakes his head as he comes over to the counter. ‘I need to talk to you.’
This doesn’t sound good. Has he finally figured out who I am? Why is he nervous? I would’ve expected him to be angry, but not nervous.
‘Sorry, Sade.’ He makes a few attempts at speaking again, but stops every time. ‘I’m het-up and overtired; the stammer is getting the better of me.’
He shakes his hands out with a noise of frustration, and I reach over and catch one of them and keep hold of it while I walk round to his side of the counter. ‘Whatever’s wrong, take your time. It’s just you and me, there’s no rush.’
I meet his eyes and up close, I can see the lack of sleep making itself a physical presence. There are dark circles under them and the lines around them look particularly pinched.
He pushes his hand through his hair and picks up my water bottle and takes a sip.
‘C’mere.’ I reach up and pull him into a hug. I tug his head down to my shoulder and rub my hands over the arch of his back where he’s having to bend to reach me. ‘Close your eyes. Relax. Breathe. We’ve got all the time in the world.’
His arms tighten around me and pull me closer, and his lips drop a kiss on my shoulder, and I feel him letting out long breaths and trying to force himself into calming down, and I’m starting to get really worried now. It’s the first time I’ve seen him this agitated, and I can’t work out what it’s about.
‘I can’t do it, Sade,’ he eventually mumbles into my shoulder.
At first I think he means he can’t say whatever he’s trying to say, but then his hand leaves my hip, and without breaking the hug, he reaches for something in his pocket, something that jangles, and then feels around blindly until he can get hold of my hand and tug it down to press something cold and metal into my palm. My fingers close around… a key? Some kind of big, ornamental key. I raise my hand until I can squint at it over his head. It looks like the key he used to unlock the castle gate when we were there the other day.
He must be able to feel my face screw up in confusion. ‘I can’t go through with it. I can’t sell the castle. You love it so much, and I lo—’
The sentence breaks and I let out a disbelieving laugh. He hasn’t lifted his head from my shoulder, but I pull his hair back like it will somehow let me see his face. ‘It’s a wonderful thought, but you can’t do that. You don’t have that kind of permission, do you? And you can’t lose your job because of me. If it’s not you, they’ll just get someone else…’
‘You’ve made me love it again. You’ve made me see the good in it, and… Sadie, I’m not—’
‘Oh my God, this is genius!’ No one has ever had such bad timing as my aunt, who chooses that moment to burst through the shop door with the understated volume of a jumbo jet thundering in to land.
Witt and I dive apart as though we’ve been caught doing something unthinkable.
She’s waving around the shoe. My eyes flick to the window. The shoe is still on the display plinth. Oh, hell’s bells. She’s waving around the other shoe. My shoe. From my bedside drawer.
‘Sadie! I’m so impressed! Why didn’t you tell me this was all part of a grand plan?’ She holds it aloft, shaking it at the ceiling like it’s some great victory.
Witt looks at her in confusion. ‘Where did you get that?’
‘Oh, I think you know full well, Mr Prince Charming indeed!’
His eyes flick between the shoe in her hand and the one in the window too. ‘No offence, Ebony, but I know you weren’t the woman I danced with at the ball.’
Oh, hell’s bloody bells. This can’t go on any longer. I have to be honest with him, and I have to be honest with him now. ‘Witt…’
Now it’s me who feels like I can’t get a sentence out without choking on it. This is not how I wanted him to find out. It was supposed to be quiet, private, just the two of us, not with my aunt watching on. Ebony is enough to make a stone nervous, and I don’t know how to get the words out, but I do know I have to do it before she blunders in with something sharp, cutting, or untrue.
I take a deep breath. I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse than I do in this moment. I feel sick, but in a way, relieved too. We can’t avoid it any longer. I never knew how I was going to find the courage to confront this, and Ebony has catapulted us headfirst into it in her typically abrasive way. He deserves to know the truth, and I’ve been hiding it for too long.
‘It was me, Witt.’ I look up at him and then look away because I don’t want to see the hatred creep into his eyes. ‘It’s been me all along. I’m the mystery Cinderella you met at the ball.’ I keep my eyes on the floor, following the lines of the wooden planks. The world has stopped moving. I think all three of us have stopped breathing, frozen like statues, waiting for the inevitable explosion when he realises what I’m saying, and it feels like forever before someone takes a breath again.
‘Sadie.’ Witt takes the hand that’s still got his key in it and holds it between both of his. ‘Do you honestly think I don’t know that?’
‘What?’ My mouth falls open and I inhale in surprise and then choke on the air I’ve taken in. ‘You know?’
‘Of course I know. The mask might’ve hidden your face, but it didn’t hide your eyes. Your voice. The feel of your hand in mine. I knew from the moment you opened the door on that first morning.’
‘No you bloody well didn’t! You didn’t recognise me! You looked straight through me.’
He grunts and lifts a hand to pull awkwardly at the back of his neck. ‘All right, maybe not that exact second, but not because of you – because of me. When I’m trying not to stutter, I’m inside my own head. I don’t see anything except the words I’m focusing on. I can look at people without seeing them because all I’m concentrating on is my next word, and that morning, I was so caught up in trying not to make a fool of myself that it took me a while to get outside my own head. When you snapped that it wasn’t all about me, it made me look at you, really look at you, and something sparked and I thought it was you then and there.’
I feel like something’s hit me in the chest. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘Because you didn’t say anything. Because I didn’t think you knew it was me. And then I realised you must have known because who else would have the shoe, and then the dress was there, returned, and you didn’t say anything, and I thought maybe I was mistaken, or you weren’t interested in seeing me again and were too polite to tell me, and then I said the wrong thing about only wanting to find you for your spin on the castle, which was horrible and I couldn’t blame you for not saying who you were, and then you suggested putting the dress in the window and trying to find her, and I went along with it because I convinced myself it wasn’t you, but I couldn’t tear myself away. Going through those emails was just a way to spend time with you – to prove to myself that I wasn’t imagining it.’
‘I was angry at you for not recognising me. I recognised you the moment I opened the door. The cleft in your chin, the dip above your upper lip, the size of your hands, the length of your arms, your smile. God, your smile.’ I meet his eyes and his lips tip into a half-smile. ‘And I couldn’t tell you. I wasn’t supposed to be at that ball.’
I’m well aware of Ebony listening in. If she hadn’t worked out that I went to the ball by now, this is the final nail in the coffin.
‘You could’ve trusted me. I would never have told anyone.’
‘Secrets like that have a habit of getting loose. It wasn’t about trusting you, Witt. If anyone on Ever After Street found out, they’d hate me. If Ebony found out, I would’ve kissed goodbye to any hope of taking over The Cinderella Shop. I know I’ve said it before, but it couldn’t be all about you. I couldn’t throw away everything I’ve worked for because of a guy I’d spent a couple of hours with. It wasn’t a reflection on you – it’s just common sense.’
‘I know. You told me that. I accepted that.’
‘When have I told you that?’
‘On that very first morning in the shop, for a start. And many times since then. And I’m not stupid, I’ve understood the subtext. I’ve known when you were speaking to me, letting me know without really letting me know. And how many times have I said that I could wait or that she’d tell me when she was ready? I’ve tried to let you know that I understood without letting you know too.’
Ebony is strangely silent throughout this. She hasn’t left to give us privacy like anyone else might have, and I suspect that if I try to take Witt out the back, she’ll follow anyway.
And at the same time, nothing matters as much as him. Him knowing. Him understanding. Him being the best human I’ve ever met.
‘Since then, it’s been like a little puzzle to put together. I don’t think you realise how often you’ve slipped up. How often you’ve let me know without intending to. The things you’ve said – about the mass boycott of the ball and about Ebony having a thing for midnight visits. The missing ticket. The rose I gave you that night is in a vase on your bedroom window ledge – I saw it when I carried those books upstairs. The other day, you told me I was right about this street being where the servant cottages once stood – only I never said that to you. You’ve mentioned the theatre in the castle – the one I never showed to you. That night at the ball, you wore your regular cherry-scented perfume. Every time I’ve got close to you, I’ve smelt the same scent I smelt that night.’
And I thought I was so good at keeping secrets. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this. That day he took the books upstairs and looked through to the bedroom window. It never crossed my mind that the rose was sitting there in plain sight. And he’s right, I always wear the same perfume, the one my mother wore. A bottle of it is Ebony’s Christmas gift to me each year. I spray it on before I walk out of the door every day – and that night.
‘I doubted myself at first. Convinced myself it couldn’t be you, maybe I was misremembering, I hadn’t had my glasses on, and then I thought you must be repulsed by the weird stuttering fool, and—’
I point a threatening finger at him. ‘Don’t you dare say that. I wouldn’t allow anyone else to talk about you like that, I’m certainly not going to let you. Your height, your stutter, and your abnormally long gorgeous arms are all part of what makes you you.’
He smiles, folds my finger down and lifts my hand to his mouth. ‘Do you honestly not see why I haven’t been able to tear myself away? You make space for me in your life. I’m awkward and cumbersome. I never fit anywhere, and then I met you, and for the first time, I fitted with you. I felt like I was exactly the way I was supposed to be. Like there’s someone out there who is everyone’s perfect match, no matter how weird and awkward they are, and somehow I’d got lucky enough to stumble across mine. I’ve never connected with someone like I connect with you. The unexpected stuff we have in common, an understanding that’s hard to come by with many people. From the very first second I saw you, it felt like we were meant to meet, and that didn’t change whether you had a pretty dress on or the cargo pants and crochet jumpers you have on otherwise.’ He tugs my holey-knit tunic affectionately. ‘It doesn’t change whether your hair is straightened or the beautiful mass of curls that I can barely stop myself twirling around my fingers. I didn’t come looking for you because of how you looked – I came looking for you because I wanted to find out if I’d imagined the connection I thought we had.’
‘I convinced myself that you wouldn’t like me in the cold light of day. That you didn’t have your glasses on and if you saw the real me, you’d recoil in horror. And all the…’ I search for the right word. He might know it’s me, but he hasn’t realised the implications yet. ‘…online stuff. It went too far. It was never meant to—’
‘Don’t you realise I stopped looking? I was never interested in those emails because I knew it was you. From the moment I walked into your shop, I felt a sense of ease around you, exactly the way I did at the party. That doesn’t strike twice in one place. And the night we walked through the Full Moon Forest. Your hand through my arm, like it was at the ball. Then, I knew.’
‘Why did you go on that date with that woman on Saturday night?’
He laughs. ‘Half curiosity about what she was going to come up with, and half because I wondered if it would push you into saying something. I didn’t mean to worry you as much as I did.’
‘I’m so sorry, Witt. I didn’t mean to lie to you, it just…’ There isn’t even a decent way to finish that sentence.
‘It’s all right. You told me in not-as-many words, and you know me, I’m always better with fewer words.’
I’m fighting back tears at how lovely he is. ‘Don’t you hate me for this?’
He’s still got my hand in his and he pulls me closer. His fingers stroke my hair like he did that night and overwhelming love for him surges up so strongly that I might burst.
‘Why would I hate you?’ His tongue wets his lips and his head dips towards mine and that flutter of excitement at finally getting to kiss him again sends sparkles dancing through my veins. The key clatters onto the counter as my hand goes to stroke through his hair and pull him the rest of the way down…
I don’t realise those are famous last words until Ebony interrupts nanoseconds before our lips touch.
‘Wait, he didn’t know?’ She sounds confused. ‘Are you not in it together? You’re telling me that you did all of this on your own? Even Prince Charming himself wasn’t part of creating this Cinderella story?’
‘It wasn’t… No one created it – it just kind of happened.’
‘Publicity juggernauts like this don’t just happen. I could have hired the best advertising agency in the world and they wouldn’t have come up with something so inspired and tailor-made to our shop and Ever After Street. Brilliant, Sadie, absolutely top-notch.’
It’s the first time in recent years that I can remember Ebony paying me a compliment – I just wish it wasn’t in relation to this.
‘Heaven’s me, I didn’t know you had it in you. If I’d known what you were planning to use the ball for, I’d have given you that ticket happily. I’ve been so angry at you for going against my instructions, but all along, you’ve been doing exactly what I told you to.’
It makes me uncomfortable and the hairs at the back of my neck prickle in a bad way. This has taken on a typical Ebony cynicism and she’s made it sound so much more calculated than it was.
‘What?’ Witt was still leaning in, with a softness of that about-to-be-kissed haze, and he instantly stands upright.
‘On the night of the ball, I told you to, didn’t I? I said this shop would be yours the moment you showed me you could do something spectacular on the marketing front, and my God, you’ve succeeded. That’s why you kept it from me. You’ve been trying to prove a point all along.’
‘Well, yes, but…’ I trail off, unable to find the words to defend myself. She’s made it seem cold and callous when it was never meant to be that way.
Witt’s stiffened and taken a large step away from me, and I suddenly realise how bad this sounds. ‘Witt, this is not what you think. I told her I wanted the shop that night, at midnight, when I got home. She gave nothing but vague brush-offs, excuses, something about being out of my depth and not knowing how to handle the marketing and publicity side of the business…’ I trail off because the dismayed look on his face suggests I’m digging myself in deeper.
‘That’s why you went to the ball! Did you just get lucky and stumble across him or did you pick out an awkward loner beforehand?’ Ebony glances at him. ‘No offence.’
‘Oh, none taken. I assure you, it takes more than that to offend me.’ His eyes are stone cold when he looks at me. ‘Being used, for example, is something that offends me.’
‘Witt, no. She’s made it sound premeditated and it was never like that. That morning, I was still upset about arguing with her the night before, and then you were there with the shoe. And I was angry at you for not recognising me, and then for downplaying the night we’d spent together – for making it all about business. You wanted to find me because my “whimsical storytelling” would con potential buyers into upping their offers. Every relationship I’ve ever been in has ended because it was all about what the other person wanted from me – and I didn’t want the Prince Charming from the night before to be the same. I was upset at myself for being so forgettable, so unimportant to anyone that the only appealing thing about me was what I knew of the castle. The idea of putting the dress in the window was just an excuse to put something beautiful on show that Ebony wouldn’t be able to argue about. Every time I put a dress I’m proud of on display, she changes it, but this time, she couldn’t. And then Scarlett got involved with the website and the contact forms and the emails, and it all spun out of control. It was never meant to go as far as it has.’
‘But she’s right, isn’t she? From the moment you opened the door that morning, you knew who I was. You knew who you were. You knew the posters and the website stuff made me uncomfortable, and you could have stopped it at any time. I want to believe everything you’ve just said about why you didn’t tell me, but this… This makes a heck of a lot more sense. The main, and only, reason you couldn’t tell me who you were… is because that dress in the window has bought a lot of attention to The Cinderella Shop.’
‘And Ever After Street,’ Ebony says cheerfully, not realising the gravitas of this situation. I can feel panic rising at the look in his eyes and the hard set of his jaw. I knew he’d be hurt by this, but I underestimated how hurt.
‘It was all for the publicity, wasn’t it? For the tweets and shares and likes and pins and views. You’ve even told me that without telling me. You told me the shop was in trouble. You’ve told me about the need to get customers back. You’ve told me about your opposition to Ebony’s way of doing things and how you wanted to prove that your ideas had merit. Scarlett even said, literally yesterday, that the dress was staying in the window because of how many customers it was bringing in, and I never realised. I knew it was good for your business, but I’d separated the two. I thought the advantage for the shop was just a side effect of us getting to know each other, a secondary benefit of exploring whatever we felt that night at the ball. I’m so stupid.’ He smacks his forehead. ‘I thought you were the one person who was different. I never realised that it was all about the business. The sole reason for dragging this out is because if we had “found” you, the website visitors and retweets would have dried up.’ The anger is making him stumble over his words and he keeps having to repeat himself. ‘I was just a means to an end, wasn’t I?’
I don’t know what to say. What to do. It started off being about the publicity, but it quickly became so much more. When he puts it like that, it sounds indefensible. ‘No. God no, of course not. I know how it looks, and yes, at first it was just an opportunity to help the shop, but as soon as I got to know you, Witt, as soon as we started spending time together… the publicity didn’t matter any more. It wasn’t about that.’
‘Did this story fall into your lap at exactly the right moment? Or did you actually set out to orchestrate your own Cinderella story that night? Was the whole thing perfectly planned? From meeting me in the study to our magical evening under the stars to running off at the stroke of midnight? Because it suddenly makes so much sense that that’s exactly what it was. A carefully coordinated storybook moment. All you needed was a stupid, silent Prince Charming.’
I don’t know how to defend myself. I know how it sounds. How it looks, and I know what he thinks about love and how this must look to someone who is so fiercely guarded and never lets people get close because people only want to get close if they can use you, and that’s exactly what I’ve done. I didn’t tell him who I was because not telling him ultimately benefited me, and I don’t know how to make him believe that even though it started off as a marketing idea, it didn’t end up as one.
I reach out for his hand and he yanks it back and moves out of my reach so fast that his hip hits the counter, hard enough to jangle the key that’s still lying there. I feel a splash on my chest and realise it’s because tears are dripping off my chin, and for one second, his face softens.
‘I was just going to put the dress in the window. Scarlett came up with the posters and the website before she knew—’
‘Oh.’ He lets out a sarcastic bitter laugh. ‘So she did know then? You could trust her with this supposedly unsharable secret that you couldn’t bring yourself to tell me. The two of you must’ve cooked this whole thing up together.’
‘No! I hadn’t intended to tell anyone, but she put two and two together because of my reaction when you came in with the—’
‘Don’t tell me, she even helped you get ready for the ball?’
‘Well, yes, but not in that way.’ Oh, God. This is getting worse and I’m digging a bigger hole and I don’t know how to stop it. ‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘She’d seen you in the dress? From the moment she showed me the returned dresses, you both set this whole thing up.’
‘No, of course not. She’d never seen it. She’d had a client in the afternoon and left before I—’
‘Oh, spare me the excuses, Sadie.’
He hardly ever calls me by my full name. I can hear his voice breaking, the stutter coming out even more as his distress grows, and I desperately want to go back to earlier and hold him in my arms again and do something to prevent this.
I feel so guilty. I should have put a stop to this from the moment I realised who he was, and I didn’t. Ebony’s words have played straight into his insecurities and made everything that’s happened between us seem twisted and underhanded. Yes, the publicity has been great, but once I got to know him, the only reasons for not telling him were my own lack of confidence, and the fact I’ve fallen head over heels in love with him and was too scared of losing him to be honest.
‘Tell me one thing.’ Instead of their usual warm twinkle, his eyes are icy when he looks at me. ‘Did you know? Is that why you’ve got close to me? All the leading questions you’ve asked me… the inside information you’ve tried to wheedle from me. You’ve known who I am all along? This was all part of some grand plan to stop the castle being sold?’
‘No. How could I possibly have known you were the estate agent overseeing the sale?’
‘The estate agent?’ He scoffs so hard that it makes him choke. ‘I’m not— you know what, never mind. Thank you for proving what I’ve always known – that love is a con, and nothing is ever given freely without an ulterior motive. People only love someone else if there’s something in it for themselves.’ His voice is broken and his hands are shaking as he takes the key off the counter, rams it back into his pocket, and storms out.
I stare at the rattling door in a daze.
‘What’s going on?’ Moments later, Scarlett comes in the door that’s still juddering in its frame. ‘Why does Witt look so angry? I’ve never seen him look angry before; he’s like the least angry person in the universe.’
‘Ask her,’ I snap in Ebony’s direction.
‘Oh. Oh. Ohhh,’ Scarlett says in three different tones as she spots the ‘glass slipper’ in her mum’s hand.
‘I have to go after him. Don’t go anywhere,’ I tell Ebony. ‘You’ve got some explaining to do, but he is way more important right now.’
When I get outside, he’s gone. Of course he has. His legs are the height of a double-decker bus, and he can cover ground at a similar speed. I shout his name, but it does nothing but earn dirty looks from nearby shoppers.
He’s tall enough to be easily spottable in a crowd, but there’s no sign of him anywhere. Where would he have gone? The castle is the obvious answer, and as I run along the wide path through the woods, the spring sunshine that’s dappled through the trees disappears behind a cloud that’s so heavy, it turns the sky navy, and the heavens open.
Behind me, there are the shouts of shoppers making a dash for the shelter of shops, but a bit of rain isn’t as important as losing Witt.
The downpour is so heavy that it gathers in the grooves of the brick walkway as I run towards the castle, splashing high up my legs and drenching every part of me.
There’s no sign that he’s at home. No lights on. No way of telling if he even came back here. Probably not, considering he undoubtedly knew it would be the first place I’d look. But there are no other options.
I huddle under the narrow gate arch. The portcullis gate is still raised, but the heavy wooden gates on the other side of it are shut tight. I knock loudly. ‘Witt, let me in, please!’
Nothing.
‘We need to talk. Please let me explain.’
Still nothing. I’m huddling in the gateway where my mum and dad met, yelling at a man who either isn’t there, or can’t hear me, or is ignoring me if he is there. But I have to do something, even if it’s just shouting at an empty castle.
‘Scarlett never saw the dress. She never knew it was mine until it was too late. It wasn’t meant to be there – I’d shoved it onto that rail to hide it when my aunt arrived, and then I forgot about it. You were never meant to find it.’ I sigh and look upwards, and regret it when a big raindrop drips from the brickwork and plops straight into my eye. ‘But I’m glad you did, because it brought you into my life. As you, not as some Prince Charming in a mask. Getting to know you has been the best thing that’s happened to me in years. When I’m ninety and looking back on my life, these past few weeks will be one of the highlights. When I’m decrepitly passing on my wisdom to the younger generation, I’m going to tell my grandkids to find a partner who makes them feel even a fraction of how you make me feel.’
I bang on the door again, but I know Witt well enough to know he’d want to be alone, need to be alone, and I’m probably not helping matters here.
‘Witt, if you do nothing else, please listen.’ I’m shouting louder to be heard over the pounding of the rain. ‘The only thing I thought about that morning was putting the dress in the window. I didn’t expect all the publicity that would come from it or how invested people would get, and once it started, I didn’t know how to stop it without standing up and announcing that I’d gone against the wishes of everyone I’ve worked with for years, and now I really, really wish I’d been brave enough to do that, because it would’ve been better than hurting you. If I could go back in time, I’d ignore the chime of midnight and stay in your arms. I’d remove both our masks and kiss you properly. You deserve better than someone who can’t be honest with you, but please, please know that, although this started off as trying to save the shop, it became so much more than that, and the only reason I didn’t tell you was my own lack of courage and fear of having this conversation without losing you.’
I’m drenched. The rain has gone straight through the loose-knit holes in my crochet tunic and plastered the white vest underneath to my skin, and my hair has taken on the appearance of a mop, but it feels wrong to just give up. I look around. I got out of this castle all those weeks ago – maybe I could follow the same route through the grounds, and up over that wall into the secret garden and get back in? I’m not sure I’d ever find the way again, but it might be worth a try… and the breaking and entering conviction that would surely follow. If he’s there, he’s not going to be happy about me inviting myself in when he’s clearly shut me out, and if he’s not there… well, the police probably wouldn’t be too happy about it either.
The rain has eased to a drizzle, and the sun has the nerve to peek out over the distant hills, and I go back to the door and knock on it again. ‘Just so you know, I was thinking of breaking and entering, but I won’t. I don’t want to walk away, Witt, but I think I could stand here until a week next Friday and it still wouldn’t make you come out, so I’ll go. But please listen. The one and only reason I didn’t tell you immediately was because I didn’t think you’d like me as myself, and I wish more than anything that I’d been brave enough to take that risk because you’re the only person who’s made me feel worthwhile in a long time, and I should’ve extended you the same courtesy. And this is the worst timing but I refuse to walk away without saying it. I’ve fallen in love with you. You’re the best human I’ve ever met, and I’m sorry that I put the business before you because The Cinderella Shop is just a shop, and I’d rather lose it than you.’
I step back and look up at the castle. It stares hollowly back at me.
‘Pass on the message, will you?’ I pat its brick wall as I go to leave. Witt talks to inanimate objects, he’d understand. Or I just poured my heart out to a castle and told it I loved it. Which I guess I do, just not in quite the same way that I’ve fallen in love with him.
I traipse back with an overwhelming feeling that life as we know it on Ever After Street is over.