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Music fills the air around us as fireworks explode overhead. We turn toward the castle at the end of the road, and it’s illuminated with lasers and projections from movies every kid loves.
Alix leans into me, her back pressed against my chest. She looks up and her face is soft with wonder. The music, the lights, the cheers and laughter of children stopped in their tracks around us…
For this pocket of time, in this corner of the world, everything is perfect. I’ve kept Alix safe. The past can’t touch us. Nothing can harm us here.
The show ends with a bombardment of fireworks. The sky is gray with smoke. Our ears ring and it takes a century for Alix to step away, to stand on her own two feet.
“That was incredible,” she says. And then her jaw sets. She’s stifling a yawn.
“Tired?” I ask.
“No,” she says automatically. But she can’t catch the next yawn. She barely hides it behind her palm. “Okay,” she says, laughing. “Maybe a little.”
“Time to get you to our hotel room, then.”
She looks behind her, toward the park’s front gate. “Do we catch a shuttle?”
“We can walk from here.”
She wants to tell me no. She wants to say she’s too tired to walk. I see it in the quick slump of her shoulders, the split-second before she straightens with a smile. “Point the way,” she says.
So I do.
I point at Cinderella’s castle.
“Liar,” she says.
“It’s impossible to lie in the Magic Kingdom.” When she continues to stare at me, I tap the band on her wrist. “Let’s go. As the man said, that’s your key.”
The castle is bigger than it seems from Main Street. I follow the directions I received this morning, locating the elevator to the hidden suite. The ornate doors open onto a hallway shaped like Cinderella’s pumpkin coach.
The rooms beyond are outfitted in careful details. A blue-and-gold marble floor… Sculpted columns beside two beds… A crystal cabinet holding Cinderella’s tiara… Stained glass windows featuring images from Disney movies…
It’s a cross between a child’s dream-house and an engineering marvel, a fairytale brought to life. On a table in the carriage foyer, there’s a crystal slipper with a handwritten note: “With our compliments.”
I pick it up, because Alix seems afraid to. “I think this is yours.”
“What is it with you giving me shoes?” she says. She laughs as she takes it, and I know we’re both thinking about the scuffed stiletto I gave her in the crappiest hotel in Dover, the one I saved the night she ran away.
Alix holds the shoe close to her chest as she walks into the bedroom. Matching pajamas are laid out on the two queen beds—pink stripes for her and blue for me. We’ve got toothbrushes in the bathroom, along with toothpaste, soap, and shampoo.
“You’ve thought of everything,” she says.
“I had a little help,” I admit. “Your fairy godmother took care of the details.”
She laughs. And then, because we’ve been walking for the last five hours without taking a break, she yawns again. “I’m sorry!” she says.
“I’m not.” I nod toward the pajamas. “Get ready for bed.”
Alix doesn’t have to be shy in front of me. Not after everything we’ve shared, every way I’ve touched her, all the things she’s done to drive me crazy.
But there’s something about this setting, about Cinderella’s dream castle in the middle of a magic land built to make every child in the world shout with joy…
Alix changes in the bathroom. While the water’s running, I check my phone. There’s nothing from Best, which I tell myself is a good sign.
I change into my own pajamas. And I brush my teeth and wash my face and comb my hair, like I’m a six-year-old little boy closing my eyes and crossing my fingers and waiting for the tooth fairy to stop by overnight.
I believe in the magic.
