‘When I opened my bag this morning, I understood why you asked the squirrel question. I’d never seen that before in my life, Cleo. I don’t know how it got there. I know what you must be thinking, but it isn’t mine. Someone else must’ve put it in there.’
‘Tabby wasn’t even in yesterday.’
‘It could’ve been there for days. I don’t look in my bag from one day to the next. I only went in there this morning to get the toothbrush out. Without working lockers, my bag was in the staffroom. Anyone could’ve opened it…’ He sighs long and hard, sounding just as fed-up as he did last night. ‘I meant what I said – I can’t make you believe me and I’m not going to waste energy in trying. You either do or you don’t, and nothing I say will make any difference to that. And it’s okay if you—’
‘I believe you.’ I wasn’t sure myself, not really, but he looks so utterly wretched that it’s impossible not to believe him. There’s something about Bram that’s infinitely trustworthy, especially now, when he’s not playing a character, and trusting that I’ll trust the real him.
He holds his hand out to me, inviting me to slip my fingers over his again, and when I do, his curl tightly around mine, and he uses his grip to tug me nearer and holds his other arm open, silently asking for a hug.
Hugging him, properly hugging him, is the one thing I’ve been desperate to do since the moment he started looking so ill yesterday afternoon, and I take my hand from his and push his knees apart on the counter so I can stand between his legs and reach up to slide both arms around him, and I get a delicious little thrill when he bends to meet me and pulls me tight to him and one of his legs hooks around mine to hold me in place.
He lets out a long and deep exhale and I can feel the tension draining from his body even as his arms tighten around me, and after a day of stress and worry and being rushed off my feet, I can feel myself sagging against him. His hands spread open on my back and his stubbled jaw grazes against my neck as he tries to get closer. My knees are braced against the lower cabinet door, and my hands naturally find their way upwards, cupping the back of his head, and my fingers slide down to play with the ends of his hair, and it sends a shiver through him, and he makes a little contented noise.
And we just… don’t move.
Long minutes pass and I could happily stay put for many, many more. It’s the kind of hug that shuts out everything outside of his arms, and each one of my senses is consumed by him. The touch of his body, the sound of his breathing, the scent of his aftershave, and I’m so relaxed that I could fall asleep standing here. His body is deadweight against mine, his arms around me are heavy, and even his hands on my back have gone limp.
I squeeze him tighter and he mumbles something incomprehensible and snuggles in closer. And the thought of making him this comfortable makes my heart swell. I know he’s not good at letting people get close, and neither am I. This is the closest I’ve been to anyone in years, and I thought it would feel scary, but the last thing I want to do is disentangle our bodies.
It takes me a long time before I whisper again. ‘Are you asleep?’
‘No, just having a really long blink.’
I laugh and go to pull away but he curls tighter around me. ‘Don’t go yet. This feels too good.’
‘Yeah, it does.’ The words hang in the air like a decoration. So real that I could touch them. It does feel good, in a way I never expected it to. I never intended to let anyone in again. Love hasn’t been on my radar in recent years. After my ex, I was glad to be alone. I’d forgotten what it’s like to fall for someone.
And then Bram burst into my life in an explosion of colour and card tricks and he’s got under my skin without me even noticing, and suddenly I care about him. I like him. I like spending time with him. I get butterflies as I drive towards his house in the evenings. If today is any indication, I miss the living daylights out of him when he’s not around.
I’ve spent the majority of the past twenty-four hours with my hands on him in some way, and it’s felt good. And this hug, it’s like we’re the only two people in the universe, and everything is right with the world, as long as neither of us ever moves.
It feels like waking up when he finally starts to stir, grunting with stiffness where his body has been curled so tightly around mine, and he looks kind of dazed and blissful, squinting at the sudden brightness of the kitchen light. ‘That was probably the nicest hug I’ve ever had.’
I laugh, because there he goes with just blurting things out again. And yet there’s something refreshing about it too. Bram doesn’t play games. He says what he feels in the moment and worries about it later. Or, actually, doesn’t worry about it later, unlike me who lies awake at night replaying conversations where I made myself look foolish that day in my head, and it makes me want to be more like him. Being happy for people to think whatever they want of him, and being secure enough in himself for it not to matter. ‘Ditto.’
He smiles, that stupidly wide smile that brightens up the whole room and makes his singular dimple dip his cheek and his tired eyes shine, and it’s impossible not to smile back, and… I really want to kiss him. I’m at just the right height to slide my hand along his jaw and cup his face. It would take nanoseconds to push myself onto tiptoes, and I take a breath, trying to steel myself to find the courage to do it, and… and then his stomach lets out a growl of hunger, making his cheeks flare red as he giggles with embarrassment.
I shake my head to clear it. ‘I’m coming home with you tonight. You can eat something later so I’m going to make you a piece of toast and a cup of tea and nothing else. I don’t trust you not to go home and bake a batch of brownies and eat the whole lot.’
‘You’re coming home with me so you can bake something for the shop tomorrow. Get back on the horse before the stable door has bolted… No, that’s not right. You know what I mean. Don’t let this one incident knock your confidence.’
‘I don’t think I should ever bake again.’
‘’Course you should.’ He reaches out and takes my hand again. ‘And I’m going to be your first tester.’
‘No you’re not. You can’t still have faith in me after that.’
‘I still have faith in you after that. You were made to do this. This job lights you up. You just need to get a teensy bit better at identifying whether something is cooked or not.’
I burst out laughing. At least we can agree on that.
17
As the wedding gets closer, the one thing that gets stronger is how much I love Ever After Street and want to stay here, no matter what. I love my tearoom. I’ve bought some copies of Alice in Wonderland from Marnie and put them out on a shelf, and it’s a joy to see customers pick them up and flick through them while drinking their sparkly tea.
It’s the sense of community too. I only met Marnie last year but I feel like I’ve known her my whole life. I love my Ever After Street colleagues. I feel like there are people I can turn to at any time with any question or query, and people to help out if needed, like Franca did last week.
And then there’s the help with the wedding. It’s Thursday evening, three days before the big day, and Marnie, Darcy, and I are in Bram’s kitchen, the four of us forming a tag team with the Nutella muffins and Creme Egg cheesecakes. We’ve got over a hundred and fifty of each to make before Sunday, and with the help of a battalion of airtight containers, they’ll still be fresh enough by the big day.
Bram’s put a nineties’ music playlist on, and we’re all singing along and dancing around the kitchen, and none of us are any good at singing or dancing, so the self-consciousness has gone, and we’re just enjoying ourselves, according to Bram’s policy of making tasks fun. And it’s brilliant. What seemed like an overwhelmingly impossible undertaking has become a fun evening with good friends.
He and Darcy are making the cheesecakes and Marnie and I are working as a team on the muffins, and I’m having one of the happiest evenings I can remember in recent times, and it’s all because of one man.
I meet Bram’s eyes across the kitchen, and he beams at me, tips an imaginary cowboy hat in my direction, and then line dances back over to the counter to the tune of ‘Cotton Eye Joe’.
I tap my foot as I stir the third batch of muffin mixture, and Marnie steps closer and nudges me with her elbow. ‘He’s smitten.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ I try to ignore the little quiver that sets off in my chest.
‘He hasn’t stopped smiling since we arrived, and coincidentally, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we arrived either. And neither have you, for that matter.’ She nudges me again and whispers, ‘I’m starting to think that you and I only paired up to ensure there was no canoodling over the muffins.’
‘Canoodling!’
I don’t realise how loudly I’ve said it until Bram and Darcy both turn to look at me.
‘…is a great word.’ I try to save the sentence, which fails when Bram raises both eyebrows with a cheeky grin, and it makes my face flare so hot that it could be used to cook the muffins if we run out of oven space.
‘This is fun.’ Darcy, who is still limping as he recovers from a broken ankle at the end of last year, swipes another piece of the cut-up Creme Eggs the boys are using on the other side of the kitchen. ‘Why have we never done this before?’
