Page 37 of My Faire Lady

She nods. “You’re welcome, Scarlet.”

I wait by my car, watching until she disappears inside. Half of me—the desperate, emotional half, wants to bring her to the faire. Show her that maybe magic couldn’t save her grandmother, but that it’s real, and it responds to her.

But I can’t.

Because at the end of the summer, she’ll be gone.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I unlock the car and slide into the driver’s seat, the leather fabric hot against the backs of my thighs. I shove the keys into the ignition, and as I pull out of the parking spot, the paint tubes roll out of the plastic bag.

One catches my attention—the color Lottie chose for the letters on the sign. Twisting it over in my hands, I scan the label, and my heart trips over itself.

It’s scarlet.

14

“They’re sprites, Lottie, not fairies,” Boden says, correcting me for the third time since we’ve entered the enchanted forest.

“Look, Boden, I have no idea what the difference is. And considering they aren’t real, I don’t think it matters what I call them.”

I straighten the final fairy cottage and tilt my head, balancing on the edge of the small pond as I eye my work.

“Your mistake,” he mumbles.

Ignoring him, I scan the tiny waterfall that trickles over a cliff—more a water feature than anything, pooling into the water below. Miniature fairy houses climb the hillside, teetering along the edge of the cliffs.

Some of the houses resemble the buildings at the faire, but a few are shaped like treehouses and pirate ships—ones I chose with Scarlet in mind. She promised she wouldn’t argue with any of my changes, but still, this land is hers. I want her to like it.

“It’s not too much, is it?” I say, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

Boden chuckles, crouched along the other side of the pond. “What? Giving the sprites a little village, or choosing miniature buildings because you know Scarlet will like them?”

I narrow my eyes, but his barb skates over my back, and I adjust the pirate ship so the bow is facing the water. “Can I ask you something?”

He stands and leans against a tree trunk. “Always.”

His face doesn’t shift, but his gaze remains trained on me, as if he knows what I’m going to ask before the question passes my lips. Like he’s already coming up with an answer.

I round the pond and settle on a tree stump. “Don’t get me wrong, Scarlet is nice, but she always seems so…”

“Guarded?” he finishes, resting on the lip of the stump beside me. “Prickly? Overall prone to sulking?”

I let out a small laugh and nod. “Something like that. She’s…a lot of things. Thoughtful and loyal, but whenever I get too close to her, she shoves me two steps farther away.” I shift, juggling and piecing together the words in my mind. “But despite everything, I want to get to know her. Is that selfish?”

“Oh, Lottie.” His smile wrinkles his eyes, making him appear far older than he is. “Since Scarlet was young, she has held more responsibility than most adults. She’s so scared to let someone down or lose them, that she never lets them close to begin with.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” I press a fingernail into the soft bark. “Am I being selfish?”

“No.”

The word is so certain, so final, that my mind goes quiet.

He shifts, turning to me. “You’re a bright spot in everyone’s lives, so why do you dim that light for yourself? You know what you want, but you’re so worried about it not working out that you let your fears hold you back.” His eyes soften. “Scarlet comes off as cold, and don’t tell her I said this, but she does it to protect herself from hurting the way she did when her mom died.”

My stomach sinks. Isn’t that what I do, too? Put on a brave face for everyone, just to spend hours crying in my grandmother’s garden.

I blow out a breath and check the time on my phone. “I better get to the shoppe before the faire opens. Thanks for helping me out here. With the enchanted forest, I mean.”

He smiles, not quite at me. “I know exactly what you mean, Lottie.”