Page 57 of Once Upon a Fall

“It’s a side table. It wasn’t being used for anything.”

“But I’m your only guest,” he says, his lips curving just slightly upward.

“And would you be interested in some maple treats?”

“No,” he says.

“Oh right, because you don’t eat carbs in the morning.” I give him a smirk.

“That’s correct,” he says, giving me one back.

Neither of us looks away.

This keeps happening. Ever since that night in my room, there’s this thing we do now where we just . . . stare. And I want to make something of it. Because it’s something, right? But also, I’m not exactly sure what I can do about it.

“The level is in the Rapunzel bathroom,” I finally say, the spell broken.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks when he comes into the Rapunzel room later that night and I’m pacing the floor, looking at my phone.

I was working on the finishing touches in the room since Dominic had just left after helping us move in all the furniture when I saw this text:

Pam: Good news! The tables for the booths are getting here early. Expect them by 8 a.m. tomorrow.

Good news? Is she crazy? No, that’s mean to think about Pam. She’s not crazy. She’s just dumped a big pile of tables on me with no warning, that’s all. And it’s nearly eleven p.m. She sent it three hours ago, and I just now saw it.

“The tables are coming tomorrow morning, not the end of the week like I was expecting,” I tell Dean. “I don’t know where to put them.”

“The garage?” he offers.

“Hal’s truck is in the garage.” I give him an are you stupid? look, which I immediately soften with a smile because Dean isn’t stupid, and I’m not myself when I panic.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Maybe Dom’s garage? Or his shed? I don’t think it will fit there, though. Plus, I’d have to direct the delivery service there in the morning, and I don’t even have a contact number.” I take a slow breath because I’m not sure I’ve taken a good one since I got the text from Pam.

Dean watches me as I pace back and forth in the small space between the bed and window.

I stop when I realize what has to be done. I hate the idea, though.

“I’ll just put them in my front entry,” I tell him. “We’ll have to use the back door or the side one to get out of the house for the next two weeks or so. But that should be fine.”

“Rosie,” Dean says.

“I know it’s inconvenient, but what else can I do?”

He exhales through his nose, hands on his hips. “Why don’t you ask Hal to move his truck?”

“The tables aren’t that big,” I tell him. “Two of them will fit along the entry wall, and the rest can go behind the check-in desk if I move the—”

“Rosie.”

“What?”

“You need the garage.”

He’s not wrong. I do need my garage.

“Well, I can’t call Hal now,” I say. “It’s after eleven. He’s old and probably asleep.”