The next day, when I entered the Tented Market, I ran my finger down the items on Maud's shopping list. I had no idea what she needed a magnifying glass, a green-and-purple scarf, and a yellow umbrella for, but I shrugged and set off to find them anyway. I couldn't help feeling glad that Muffet had decided to spend time with Valentine today. I knew he would have made fun of how my head turned this way and that, as though looking for someone . . .

"I thought I'd find you here," said a familiar voice.

I couldn't hide my smile when I turned to see Kit standing right behind me.

"I'm really beginning to think that you don't ever work at that pie stall," I said, feeling a little shy at how close he was to me. I hadn't known until that moment that the perfect way for a boy to smell was like fresh-cut grass and cinnamon.

"Maybe I just wander around, hoping to find you," he teased, which made my face glow like dragon fire. "So what are you looking for today? More love potion ingredients?"

I rolled my eyes. "Just some things for Maud."

Kit chuckled. "I thought fairy godmothers were supposed to help you and not the other way around." He tilted his head, his warm hazel eyes roaming over my face. "You don't find the idea of a fairy godmother outdated at all? Someone who pushes people around and tells them who to marry?"

We started walking, moving easily along the stalls as the place was nearly empty today.

"No one pushes anyone around. It's not about authority."

"No? I thought fairy godmothers had all the real power in the land," he said, jerking his head in the direction of Irisia Palace. "They could even tell him what to do."

"Prince Christopher doesn't have a fairy godmother."

"But if he did, she would influence him. She would make decisions for him." He shrugged. "The king sits on the throne, but the fairy godmother's the one with the scepter."

"You're giving entirely too much power to the fairy godmother. Listening to someone is a choice." I paused, thinking. "Having a fairy godmother is about protection. Not just physical, but emotional too. I think fairy godmothers help people see what they might not see by themselves."

"Their happily-ever-afters, you mean?"

"Maybe," I agreed. "Maybe royals need more help than anyone else. Maybe they've been so coddled and locked up in castles that they don't know what they want. They just know what they're supposed to want."

"And what do you want?"

I smiled, remembering M.D.'s words back at the tavern. "I want to live a life I want. I want to make my own happily-ever-after."

Kit was silent for a moment. "We're not so different then, you and I," he said at last.

We passed by the glass charm cart and I peered over, wondering if the shoe was still there like the woman had promised. This time, it was a man who stood behind the counter. "Are you looking for something in particular?" he asked, but when I mentioned the glass shoe, he shook his head regretfully. "I'm afraid that was purchased weeks ago. I'm very sorry."

My face fell. I hadn't expected to feel so disappointed, but I guess I'd had some romantic idea that the shoe would be a symbol of having come so far in my internship.

"May I offer you something else? Maybe a glass rose?" The man's eyes darted between me and Kit.

"Not today, thanks," Kit said, leading me away. "Are you all right?"

"I guess I really had my heart set on that thing," I said sadly.

"Come on. I'll get you another slice of pie to make up for it," he offered.

"You don't have to, honestly . . ." But looking into his eyes felt like swimming in honey, a slow, sweet melting that made me forget what I was supposed to be doing. I looked down at my shoes, feeling a little too warm for comfort.

He took that as agreement and put a large, warm hand on my back as we walked over to the pumpkin stall. "I'm filling in for Mallory today, since there aren't that many customers around," he said, swinging behind the counter.

I watched as he gathered utensils and sliced a pie that stood cooling on the counter. "Did you bake that yourself?"

He laughed. "No, I'd probably burn the place down. Mallory lets me do the cleaning and the heavy lifting." He set two slices on plates and plopped a dollop of cream on each, then led me over to the table where we had sat last time.

I watched as he tucked into his pie, thinking how much his lankiness and careless hair reminded me of Geoff. But Geoff didn't make my heart flutter when our hands brushed across the table, and Geoff didn't have eyes like those . . .

"Thanks for the pie," I said, glad he couldn't read my mind. "You don't have to keep giving me free slices, you know."

"Oh, but they're not free. You have to pay me with information about yourself." I must have looked blank, because he grinned. "I want to know more about you, Noelle. I already know you like animals, for starters. And you like carrying them around on your shoulders. Also, you've got a thing for shoes."

I laughed. "Go on."

"You think fairy godmothers are a good thing, which is questionable, but not questionable enough for me not to want to know you better," he continued. "You make bad jokes. You get offended easily. And you turn red a lot."

"I do not," I protested, as my face heated up immediately.

He chuckled. "There it is. And I know you're smart . . . and kind . . . and funny . . . and unbelievably adorable." His gaze was so tender, my knees felt like the vines on the pumpkin carriage. If we hadn't been sitting down, I felt sure I would have melted to a puddle on the grass.

Our hands on the tabletop were so close to touching, I almost couldn't breathe. I wondered if he could hear the way my heart was beating like a drum on parade.

"I guess what I'm trying to tell you, Noelle, is that . . . well, I like you." He laughed nervously, then blew out a relieved breath. "There, I said it."

I couldn't help smiling. "Why were you afraid to say it?"

"I don't know. I guess I've never met a girl I liked so much before. I've met plenty who liked me," he said honestly. "But most of them don't care to get to know me, and I don't care to get to know them. But I do with you." Our fingers finally brushed and goose bumps fluttered across my skin. Our pinkies interlaced, then our thumbs. I watched my hand get lost in his, our fingers fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle.

No one had ever held my hand like this. No one had ever looked at me that way. I could feel a part of me pulling back, yet all the rest yearned to plunge forward.

"I'm scaring you," he said, his thumb stroking my fingers. "You think I'm some crazy guy buttering you up so I can kidnap you later."

"Not really, but thanks for putting the idea into my head," I said. "Look, Kit. I think you're the sweetest guy I have ever met."

There was a sadness in his eyes, like he had lost something he didn't even know he had. "But?"

"But I'm just at a really busy point in my life. I'm still trying to figure out what I want." I squeezed his hand. "I don't know if I can have a . . . a friend like you right now."

He looked away, but didn't let go of my hand. "I see."

"But . . . I like you too," I whispered. "I'm just a little confused."

"Then let this clear it up." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slender silver chain. Dangling from that chain was the glass shoe charm I wanted.

My jaw dropped. "You were the one who bought it?"

Kit nodded. "I was afraid the woman would be there today and blow my cover, but I got lucky." He placed it in my palm, then wrapped my fingers and then his hand gently around it. "I've wanted you to have it ever since I knew you liked it."

I uncurled our fingers, staring down at the shoe, miniature and perfect. "Kit, I can't accept this."

"If you're worried about the cost, don't be," he said, waving a hand. "Please don't hurt my feelings by giving it back. Come on, I want to see how it looks on you."

I stood up, my legs shaking a little. He turned me around and pulled my hair to one side, his fingers brushing my neck as he slipped the chain over my head. "There. Now turn around."

My legs didn't seem to want to move. My brain had forgotten to tell them what to do because it was still thinking about the way our fingers had fit together.

I was still dazed when he spun me around and gazed into my face – those beautiful hazel eyes completely serious now – and then kissed me. I tasted pumpkins and whipped cream and summertime on his lips. It could have lasted seconds, minutes, hours, for all I knew.

We broke apart, gasping for air, and then he smiled and kissed me again, like we were the only two people in the universe.

If I still had a doubt in my mind whether leaving home had been the right decision, I now knew the answer.

Yes, I thought as I stood in Kit's arms, inhaling his smell of sunlight and cinnamon. Absolutely yes.

I thought of nothing else on the carriage ride back home to Indigo. I was supposed to be prepping to meet Princess Cynthia and make the glass shoes. But the only thoughts in my mind were all of Kit. I touched the charm dangling from my neck. I hadn't taken it off since he had put it on for me.

"Will you take me where I want to go?" I murmured.

But where did I want to go? What did I want to do? Was I any closer to finding out?

I didn't know. My mind was a muddle of shoes and kisses and pumpkin pie.

I wanted to make Maud proud. I wanted to make Mom and Dad proud. And now I wanted to be with Kit, too.

We hadn't said or done much after kissing . . . just walked around the market in silence, our joined hands saying everything we needed to say. How could it be so hard to walk away from someone I hadn't known two months ago?

"Indigo!" a station attendant bellowed, bringing me back to reality with a start.

All around me, the other passengers gathered their belongings and I did the same, trying to look like a confident C.A.F.E. trainee.

But when I saw my parents waiting for me with their arms wide open, I let go of all pretenses. I ran straight into their hug and closed my eyes and thought, This is home.

"Welcome back, sweetheart. I've missed you so much," Mom whispered.

"I hope you're hungry. I've planned a five-course dinner," my father said gruffly, wiping at his eyes. "I bet whatever fancy food they're feeding you still can't compete with your old man's cooking."

"Not one bit," I assured him.

We put our arms around each other, got back on the wagon, and drove home to the pumpkin patch.