Page 65 of Topped

“Fuck yeah, that sounds awesome!” Owen slid around the table to steal Jonathan’s seat, immediately engrossed in Rupert’s retelling of Miss Bennet verses the Christmas tree.

I smiled and squeezed Rupert’s thigh again, happier than I’d ever considered possible.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rupert

“I think that’s the last of them,” Norman said with a pleased hum as he curled the final strand of ribbon.

“I think so too,” I said, checking the order list I’d printed out, because there was nothing more satisfying than crossing things off with a red pen when they were done.

“Good, because I’m not doing any more. I don’t care what you say, we are closed to Christmas orders! I don’t want to see any more ribbon until January at the earliest.”

I chuckled teasingly. “Are you sure? Because Mrs. Lambert⁠—”

“NO! I don’t care if she’s offered you a million pounds, I am not doing anything more for that frightful woman. Do you know what she said to Sidney at the Christmas light switch on? That he ought to donate his yellow waistcoat because it’s the sort of colour that doesn’t go with his complexion! I’m telling you, Rupert, that woman is a curse upon this earth!”

“But… you don’t like the waistcoat either,” I said. “I mean, she shouldn’t have said it, but you hate it too.”

“Only I am allowed to dislike that waistcoat,” Norman said pointedly. “I may loathe it, but I will defend my husband’s right to wear it until my last breath. Which may be sooner than we think. But until then, I will not have some spiteful old bat saying things like that. It’s like your young man and those atrocious fleeces he wears. We may both agree they are a choice, but only you are allowed to say they are tasteless.”

I nodded, immediately understanding what he meant. “Exactly. But also, I like Milo’s clothes. They’re fun.”

Norman smiled fondly, reaching up to pat my cheek. “That’s the spirit. Now, do you need anything else or can I depart? I shall need rest before we deal with the chaos of tomorrow.”

“No, I’m good. Thank you. Are you sure you’re okay to help tomorrow? I know it’s Christmas Eve and probably not what you had planned.”

“Nonsense, I shall be here bright and early with sharp elbows. I may even bring a whistle to keep people in line. Or a walking stick. I’m sure Sidney has one, considering how terrible his knees are. I told him he should do more exercise, but he never listens to me.”

“Norman, you can’t hit people!”

“I’m not going to, I’m going to wave it like a tour guide and gently nudge people into place if they refuse to queue properly. Perhaps I should look at borrowing a sheepdog, I’m sure I can find one, even at such short notice.”

I snorted, imagining the chaos that would unfold if Norman turned up with a fully trained sheepdog and started herding people into place. There was a fine line between triumph and disaster, and I was convinced that idea was firmly on the side of the latter.

“Spoilsport,” Norman said, his bright eyes dancing with merriment and mischief.

“Unfortunately, yes,” I said. “It’s the curse which comes with ownership.”

“Ah well, rather you than me. In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good evening.”

“You too.” I watched him head towards the back door, grabbing his coat and hat off the peg. The shop’s Christmas rush had been bigger than ever, and it had more firmly solidified my plans for the future in my head.

Although the sweet shop wasn’t my dream, somewhere along the line, when I wasn’t looking, it had become my life and my legacy, and when I’d tried to think of doing something else, nothing had fit. Maybe in the future, I’d change my mind, but for now I was going to keep the business and truly make it my own, rather than what my uncle might have wanted.

In the new year, we were going to close for a few weeks to allow the interior to be redecorated and reorganised, giving it the new lease of life it deserved. I was going to start stocking new products, alongside familiar favourites and the hampers, which were growing in popularity, and I was looking into the possibility of taking a fudge or chocolate making course.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to expand the shop that way, but it could be fun to learn. And although I didn’t have a kitchen here, Milo had said I could potentially look at sharing space with Lick It! if they had room.

I was also going to look at taking on another part-time member of staff for the summer, to really allow me to have a bit more of a life outside of work. Norman was getting older, despite his protestations, and we needed another pair of hands around to support us.

And, just for fun, I’d started a vintage style Instagram, posting pictures and videos of various outfits, how I styled things, and offering advice—or what I could anyway, occasionally with little guest appearances by Elizabeth. Because I couldn’t not include my precious girl.

Milo had been ecstatic when I’d mentioned it as an idea, encouraging me to dive in before I thought better of it. I didn’t expect much from it, but luckily I wasn’t planning to make a career out of being a content creator.

I definitely didn’t have thick enough skin for that.

The back door creaked open again, and I turned to see Milo stepping inside, a bright smile spreading across his face as he spotted me. “Found you!”