Aurelia had brought two chairs up to the mezzanine and the characters took turns sitting with her, answering Oliver’s questions as she translated for him, while the others chatted amongst themselves. By two o’clock in the morning, he suggested they call it a night, and Aurelia didn’t blame him since she knew he must be uncomfortable stuck in the stairwell. The characters decided to return to their books rather than spend the rest of the night in the shop on their own, so Aurelia brought the chairs back downstairs, said goodnight to everyone, and then stepped outside. It felt kinder, somehow, than asking Oliver to open the door and know the characters had vanished because of him. After squinting through the blinds to confirm they’d disappeared into their books, Aurelia walked back inside, locked the door, and headed up the spiral staircase.
“Have you gone up to bed?” she called around the shop, wondering if she’d missed him.
“I’m here,” he said from the other side of the door. It sounded like his voice was coming from the bottom of the stairwell, as though he were still sitting on the floor.
Aurelia ran her hand along the door and then slid down, her back resting against it as she drew her knees to her chest. She could feel Oliver’s weight pushing against the other side and knew he must be sitting back-to-back with her.
“Was it too much?” she asked through the door.
“No, I liked talking to them. Sergeant Cuff is a real character. I mean—you know what I mean.”
They both laughed softly before growing quiet again.
“You should get to see them. You love books as much as I do. Even if you don’t love the classics,” Aurelia teased him gently.
The pressure against the door shifted and she heard him standing, then she got up and stepped aside as he opened it.
Oliver pulled her into a hug, then asked, “Could I pick the books the next time you swap them out?”
“Would you want to?” Aurelia asked excitedly.
“Yeah, I think I would.”
“You could put them on the table yourself—maybe then the characters that appear would be there just for you.”
“Do you think that would work?”
“It’s worth a try.”
“I might put out a Dickens novel,” he said as he led the way upstairs.
“Ooh, which one? What aboutOur Mutual Friend? I haven’t tried that one yet.”
“I thought I got to pick?” he protested, frowning playfully.
“You do! Of course you do. But as a bookseller, it’s my job to make suggestions. There are so many to choose from… This is going to be fun!”
She lowered her voice as they passed the guest room and headed into their bedroom, but she didn’t stop offering up ideas until they were in bed and Oliver silenced her with a kiss.
53
Aureliahadfullyintendedto wake up when Oliver’s alarm went off in the morning, but it was nearly impossible to open her eyes, and she’d fallen straight back to sleep once he’d gotten out of bed. She woke a little later when he came in to say goodbye before leaving for work, and, after a lazy few minutes in bed, she finally managed to get up to start the day.
She was unsurprised to see that Julia’s door was still closed. The girl’s unending capacity for sleep had ceased to amaze her. Aurelia made herself a cup of tea and sat on the armchair that looked out over the square, petting Fezz as she looked over the pages she’d been revising the day before.
After being stroppy for a few hours that morning, Julia had finally forgiven Aurelia for not waking her and was growing more and more excited as midnight neared. That evening, Oliver joined in their excitement as she and Julia prepared to go down to meet the characters for their final visit. Aurelia could see that his smiles were some of his best and brightest, and felt happy to know that their open line of communication about the shop’s magic meant they’d gotten over another bump in the road toward working it out—together.
He gave her a brief kiss goodnight at the top of the stairs as Julia skipped down to the shop. Aurelia checked to see that Julia was through the door before pulling him to her and giving him a proper kiss.
“Two more days,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Then I’m all yours again.”
“What about Sergeant Cuff?” Oliver asked with a raised eyebrow.
“He’s off the table after tonight.”
“And Darcy? Rochester?” he asked with another quirk of his brow.
“Well, they might come back to the shop, but they’re spoken for—just like me.”
