Page 3 of Ever After

We both jump as a breeze blows through the room, ruffling the curtains and bringing in the scent of lily of the valley.

“Good morning, Rosalind,” I say.

Will’s eyes are comically huge as he twists and turns, trying to see her. It’s actually funny, because she’s standing right next to him with an almost fond expression on her face. He freezes as she reaches out and straightens his lapel.

“Erm, thank you very much. So kind of you,” he says in a high voice more fitting to a royal garden party. I snort and he glares at me. “Pack it in.”

Rosalind glides over to me, looking me up and down. She’s as neat as ever, her hair curled back in the usual bun, but today a smile is playing on her pale lips. Then her eyes stray to my hair and she frowns as well.

“Is it that bad?” I ask.

Cold fingers suddenly run through my hair as she straightens the messy waves. “Better?” I ask Will.

He’s gone very pale. “Erm, yes, totally.”

“You sure? Feel free to be honest.”

“Erm, no. No, I don’t think I will actually.”

I sigh. “Will, is it okay now? Answer now, or Rosalind will think you’re being rude.”

He swallows hard. “Perfect. Completely and utterly perfect,” he pronounces. “Maybe Rosalind could dress you every day and cut out the middleman of the hedge that dragged you backwards.”

“That makes no sense, but I’ve given up expecting that from you,” I pronounce loftily.

I eye myself in the mirror. The grey suit fits like a glove, which it should do considering it’s been made for me. Levi had announced he was using some of his latest book advance to buy us matching suits, and the fitting had been an eye opener. I’m more used to vintage stores and making things work. I smooth my hands down the soft material reverently. I haven’t ever had anything as fancy and posh as this.

Will stands beside me, his expression becoming soft.

“What?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Just remind me to tell Levi how much I love him.”

“I’m sure Jem will not understand that sentiment.”

“Jem will be fine.” He waves a dismissive hand. “He’s always fine.”

I leer at him. “He’s definitely fine.”

His mouth twitches but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “So, just the boutonniere to go, then?”

“The what?”

“Boutonnieres. The flowers you put on your lapel when you get married.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because you’re looking so super fancy today. You made me shy.” He gestures at a small white box sitting on the chest of drawers.

I hadn’t noticed it. I edge close and raise the lid. Two roses are set neatly in the box. They’re orange with red edges and they glisten with moisture, the petals unfurled. A sweet and very familiar scent fills the room.

“Oh my god, Irish Rose,” I breathe, forgetting my nerves. “Did Levi send these?”

He comes close. “Yeah. He sent them this morning. Why?”

I reach out and touch one petal very gently. My eyes feel hot. “They were my mum’s favourite flowers. She always used to stop when we passed a florist and make me smell them. I’d know their scent anywhere.”

“That’s nice.” We both eye the flowers, and then, as one, look at each other, panicked. “Erm, how do we fasten them on?” he asks.