Laurel wanted to find her prince. But part of her heart ached for Dan, who might never find his princess.
‘Come on,’ he said, striding ahead. ‘I want to see this castle.’
Frowning, and still lost in her thoughts, Laurel followed.
She caught up to him as he crossed the moat into the keep, standing in the centre of the square of grass inside the walls. Hands on his hips, he turned around, taking in the crumbling stone of the battlements and the sky stretching out beyond it.
‘It’s pretty impressive, huh?’ Laurel asked, leaning against the stone of the gatehouse.
‘It is,’ Dan said. ‘It’s strange. I thought it would feel like a movie set. Or something of another time. But it doesn’t. It’s here—now. It’s survived.’
‘Well, some of it has.’ She pushed off the wall and crossed the grass towards him, leaning her back against his chest as she tried to see what he saw. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. ‘I love it here,’ she said.
‘I can tell.’
‘I’m glad I got to bring you.’ Glad they could have this moment, this perfect time together. Even if they both knew it could never last.
‘Me too,’ Dan said, and spun her round to kiss her again.
* * *
After the castle, Laurel took him down into the small seaside town and introduced him to the wonders of gift shops that sold small boxes covered in shells, and pebbles with googly eyes stuck on them. Dan smiled as she darted from shelf to shelf, fascinated by all the wonders, like a child looking to spend her first allowance.
‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing to the flashing bright lights of a storefront across the way. It looked like a mini-casino, but there were kids walking in so he figured it couldn’t be.
‘The amusement arcade!’ Laurel’s eyes lit up as she grabbed his hand and dragged him across the road towards the lights.
Inside, the darkness of the room was punctuated by the glow of slot machines, and the air was filled with beeps and tinny music and the sound of coins falling.
‘Feeling rich?’ he asked as she stepped towards a change machine.
She shook her head as she popped a single pound coin into the slot and a cascade of coppers tumbled into the pot she was holding. ‘I’m not a gambler,’ she said, turning back to him. ‘I don’t risk more than I can afford. So...’ She held up the pot. ‘Tuppenny Falls!’
Feeding the machine full of two-pence pieces, being pushed by moving bars with coins kept them entertained for a full fifteen minutes, as coins dropped off the edge of the ledge and into their pot every time they thought they were about to run out. Dan spent more time enjoying the childlike glee on Laurel’s face than he did watching the coins, loving the way she brought so much life and appreciation to everything she did.
He knew she felt she could never live up to her sister, or be good enough to win back her father’s affection—knew it deep down in the same place he knew that he could never be Riley for his parents. He didn’t need her to say it.
But he also knew that she was wrong. She was worth a million Melissas, and her family were fools if they couldn’t see it. He just wished that before he left he could make Laurel see that the only person she needed to be good enough for was herself.
Eventually their coins ran out, and Laurel shook her head when he offered to fetch more change. They headed for the exit, with the lights and sounds of the amusement arcade still buzzing in Dan’s brain.
‘So, what’s next?’ he asked as they stepped back into the brisk winter air. ‘We have—what? Another hour before the coach comes back?’
An hour didn’t seem long enough. Already it felt as if his time with her was ebbing away, like the tide going out on the pebble beach.
‘Something like that,’ Laurel agreed. ‘Ready for tea and cake?’
‘Definitely.’
The café she chose had tiny delicate tables in the window, draped with lace. Dan took a seat on a slender-legged white chair and hoped it wouldn’t collapse under him. He was under no illusion as to how out of place he looked here, even without the old women at the next table glaring at him.
Laurel sat down opposite him, her cheeks still flushed. ‘I’ve ordered us two cream teas.’
‘Sounds great.’
They sat in silence for a moment, while a million questions flooded Dan’s brain. Everything he wanted to ask her if only they had time. He wanted to know everything, but what was the point when he was leaving so soon?
In the end he settled for the questions he might get to see the outcome of.
‘So, did you decide what to tell Benjamin?’
Laurel pulled a face. ‘I’m hoping he won’t ask again. But if he does...I can’t do it. Not even to Melissa.’
Dan smiled faintly. ‘I never thought you would. Not for a moment.’
‘Because I’m too scared of Melissa?’ Laurel asked, eyebrows raised.
‘Because you’re the heroine in your own story,’ he corrected her. ‘And she wouldn’t do that. Would she?’
‘No,’ Laurel admitted. ‘She wouldn’t.’
Dan leant back in his chair gingerly, trying not to put too much pressure on the flimsy wood. ‘So, what would she do?’
‘Hmm?’ Laurel asked, distracted as the waitress, dressed all in black with a frilly white apron and mob cap, brought pots of tea and two giant scones with jam and cream on the side. ‘Look at the size of those things! We’ll never eat at the rehearsal dinner tonight.’
‘No offence to the chef, but I doubt whatever Melissa has ordered could live up to these,’ Dan said, smearing jam over half a scone. ‘What is for dinner, anyway?’
‘Seven-course tasting menu.’
‘Of course.’ Pretentious, and not enough of anything to really enjoy it. Just like Melissa’s latest movie.
Laurel took a bite of her scone and a blissful smile broke out across her face as she chewed. ‘Mmm...that’s good.’ She swallowed. ‘Sorry, you asked me something. Before I got distracted by food.’
‘I was asking what she would do next. After the wedding. Your heroine, I mean.’
Laurel gave a low laugh and looked down at her plate, tearing a bit of scone off and crumbling it between her fingers.
‘Do you know, I have no idea?’ she said after a moment. ‘For months, whenever I’ve tried to think beyond this wedding, it’s like the whole world has gone blank. Like everything ends the moment Melissa and Riley say, “I do”.’
‘The end of the movie,’ Dan said. ‘Credits roll.’
‘Exactly. They get their happily-ever-after, and I...cease to matter.’
‘Except you’re not living in Melissa’s movie, remember? You’re living in your own.’
‘I know.’
However much she said it, Dan couldn’t help but think she didn’t believe it yet. Maybe it wouldn’t be real to her until after the wedding, when the credits didn’t roll. When life went on, away from Melissa’s influence.
He almost wished he’d still be around to see it.
‘So, if you could do anything what would it be?’ he asked. ‘Would you be a film star, like Melissa? Own a castle? Marry actual royalty? Take over the world?’
Laurel laughed. ‘None of those things. I think...’ She crumbled another piece of scone, chewing on her lip as she did so. ‘I think I’d like to make my business a success. I’d like to make people’s dream weddings come true. And I’d like...I’d like my own, one day. Maybe a family. Like I said before, I want my prince—the man who is perfect for me, who comes riding up just when I need him.’
‘The right guy, right place, right time. Right?’ His chest ached. He knew that he could never be that for Laurel, even if he wanted to. He wasn’t anyone’s prince, but more than that he couldn’t even risk tryi
ng to be. Laurel deserved every happy ending she dreamt of, and he knew from past experience that he couldn’t live up to that sort of expectation.
‘Yeah. But really all I want is... I guess mostly I’d just like to be happy. Fulfilled and content and happy.’
Dan smiled, even though it hurt, and raised his tea cup to her. ‘That sounds like a pretty damn fine ambition to me.’
And she’d fulfil it—he had no doubt. That, right there, was the future he wanted for Laurel...even if it was a future he couldn’t be part of.
She clinked her china cup against his. ‘So, what about you? You already have the successful business, by all accounts. What’s next for you? True love?’
Love. Thoughts of Cassie and the day she’d left rolled through him again, turning his tea bitter in his mouth.
‘I already tried that, remember? It’s not for me.’