Page 59 of Topped

“I can always help too, if you need an extra pair of hands.”

I grinned at him, playfully wiggling my eyebrows. “Yeah? What will it cost me?”

“A kiss,” he said as he leant in to press his lips to mine. “Consider that the deposit.”

“Done.”

We wandered around the market for a little until we eventually decided what we wanted to eat. Rupert decided on a huge bowl of mac and cheese topped with crispy onions, while I went for a giant Yorkshire pudding filled with roast pork, stuffing, apple sauce, mashed potato, and gravy. It was messy as fuck to eat, but delicious, and made me realise how much I’d missed Sunday roasts and Yorkshire puddings.

They were both going on my list to make as often as possible over the winter.

We stood around a tall table inside the open-sided bar tent to eat, pleased to discover there were several heaters blasting out hot air that helped warm our chilly limbs. In hindsight, I should’ve worn an actual coat instead of a fleece over a tank top, but I hadn’t thought it would be as cold as it’d turned out to be.

Rupert stood close to me, his body virtually pressed against mine. I had to concentrate when he spoke, because I kept finding myself getting lost in the tiny details of his face and if I wasn’t careful, I wouldn’t be able to remember a word he’d said.

We talked about everything and nothing, our conversation veering off on random tangents before eventually coming back to the original point or topic. It was some of the most natural conversation I’d ever had, and with every minute that passed, I felt myself relaxing, settling into a comfortable place I’d very rarely been with anyone outside my closest friends.

Although Rupert and I had been doing this for a while—first semi-casually, then more seriously, then with an actual conversation involved—it was only more recently that I’d started to really be myself around him. Not that I’d ever been different, not truly, but I’d always held a tiny bit back, like I didn’t want to overwhelm him by being a hundred percent Milo, a hundred percent of the time.

That’d be too much for pretty much anyone.

But now I was thinking I could definitely crank it up to ninety-five percent without annoying the pants off him.

After we’d eaten, and Rupert had procured us both an enormous hot chocolate smothered in whipped cream and marshmallows, we decided to wander around some of the craft stalls to see what was on offer. I didn’t have a ton of money to spend, but my fingers were itching to buy more trinkets and strange little wonders for my flat. I couldn’t resist a good knick-knack or kitsch ornament. The tackier the better!

“Can I ask you something?” Rupert asked as we lingered at a stall selling scented candles.

I nodded as I picked up several of the candles to sniff, trying to work out which one I wanted. Because I could never say no to a nice scented candle. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Lick It! was Darcy’s idea, right?”

“Yeah, it’s, like, his lifelong dream.”

“Exactly, so what made you want to give up your life to come back here? I mean, was this your dream too? Or were you okay giving up whatever dreams you had to make someone else’s a reality?”

It was a good question, and I thought for a second while I dug in my pocket for some cash to pay for the orange and cinnamon candle I’d chosen. “I never really thought of it like that,” I said. “Yeah, this is Darcy’s dream originally, but now it’s kind of mine and Alfie’s too. We’ve all shaped it, in a way. And I didn’t mind diving into his plans because it wasn’t like I had any of my own. I’ve never been the sort of person who knew what they wanted to do with their life, I’m fine pottering along doing things that make me happy and that I enjoy. It doesn’t have to be a grand dream, it can be something fun. Or something I don’t hate, at least.

“Like, I’ve never wanted to make work my entire identity, and running Lick It! means I get to do all the things I love, without all the responsibility—’cos the really big decisions fall to Darcy, although we all get a say—and I get several months a year to do whatever the fuck I want. It’s perfect for me. So, yeah, I don’t see it as giving up my dreams for his. Our goals in life just happen to be compatible, and that’s awesome.”

I glanced at Rupert, watching his expression as he processed my words. A tiny, relieved smile slid onto his lips as we moved on to the next stall, a little tension melting out of his shoulders. “You know, you might be the first person to ever tell me that.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He walked a little further down, stopping to look at a display of adorable, felted sheep made from local wool. “When I was a child, I was told to follow the plan I’d been given, to work hard and study and go to university, and then my family wanted me to take over the sweet shop, to keep my uncle’s legacy alive, so I did. At the same time, society kept telling me to follow my dreams, to find what I was passionate about and make a career out of it. And somewhere along the way, I forgot work doesn’t have to be my entire identity. Maybe the sweet shop isn’t my dream, but maybe it’s okay if I run it well and find other things outside of work that I love. Which, I’ve sort of already done, I suppose. I just didn’t realise it.”

“You do have a lot of really cool hobbies. And you have Lizzie!”

“She is my darling,” Rupert said with a warm smile.

“I still want to get her a bonnet. Maybe I can try taking up crochet over the winter to make her one.”

“Would you stick to it if you did?” Rupert asked teasingly. “Or would you buy all the supplies, try it for one or two nights, decide it’s not perfect and immediately discard it?”

I gasped, pretending to be shocked. “How dare you? I’ll have you know I intend to pick up all the hobbies I’ve abandoned again.”

“When?”