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"Why so sad, beautiful lady?"
The bistro was one of those open-all-night places, small but classy, which Nancy had been to before with her girlfriends when they were after a coffee and a recap of their dance club encounters before heading home to sleep it off. She took Edward there because it was quiet, quaint, and because it was a long enough walk from the site of the gas explosion (dead dragon's sparkly corpse) that she had time to get her head on straight.
"My dearest Nancy," Edward was saying, for the tenth time, "I am so sorry. Please forgive-"
"It's fine."
"I never meant to offend-"
"It's fine," said Nancy, and she took and let out a deep breath. "Let's just forget about it."
The little iron tables were only meant for two people, and Edward pulled out a chair for her without so much as a blink. With any other man, she'd have decided it was a chauvinistic attempt at apologising through chivalry. With Edward, it seemed as natural as breathing.
"May I?" he asked, and Nancy felt herself smiling – sure, why not?
She shook her head and ordered coffee.
They must have been quite a sight, she in her frilly blue ballgown and he with his puffed purple sleeves and actual sword. A few other refugees from the aborted ball had come there too, so, between the Aladdin-wannabe with his glittery gold turban (those were plastic sequins sewn in – total costume-shop job) and the woman who had put a fleur de lis on her Queen Guinevere outfit, they didn't stand out too much. The clouds were starting to roll back now that the rain had stopped, and a few stars could be seen from the little outdoor seating area, so aside from having to wait for the waiter to dry their chairs, it was a perfect.
Except for the company. That was awkward. They sat in fidgeting silence until the drinks arrived, both sneaking glances at each other between contemplation of the ironwork; hers wary and embarrassed, his baffled and earnest. When they happened to meet each others' eyes, she looked away and he looked wounded.
"It's a perfect fit." He beamed at her, delighted, and reached out to take her hands. "Come with me to Andalasia, my love – we shall be married in the morning!"
"Wait... what?"
Edward was slurping his coffee (milk, three sugars and cream – of course). Somehow it was more endearing than offensive. Nancy was only stirring hers.
...Clink.
...Clink.
Clink.
She put the spoon down and braced herself. "Look, Edward; I get that shoes left behind at a ball have a certain... meaning, in Andalasia."
"They do," Edward said quickly, leaning forward. "They are a sign, meant to lead us to our destiny and our one true love. And you are mine, Nancy," he swore, blue eyes wide and earnest. "And I am yours."
"Er, yeah." She smiled, a bit tightly. "And I get that you think this means we should just up and run away together to your castle."
He nodded, smiling brightly. "Exactly! Oh Nancy, I know you will love it in An-"
"Edward," she said, eyes closed and palm raised. "Stop."
He closed his mouth. Nancy sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Look, Edward," she said, "I like you. I do. You're sweet and charming and... frankly hot, but... this is crazy."
He looked puzzled. "Crazy? ...Oh!" His expression cleared. "You mean crazily in love! My dearest, don't be afraid. We-"
"No! No, no, no – Edward." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Edward," she said again, "do you realise how many other women just in this room wear the same shoe size that I do? You would have proposed to any one of them if they'd been in the ballroom instead of me."
The look of confusion on his face faded into a gentle smile and he gazed at her, straight into her eyes, and Nancy suddenly felt a bit shy in spite of herself. "But the slipper didn't come to them, Nancy. It came to us," he said. "The sign was meant for us."
"A shoe. Right."
Even to someone as literal as Edward, her scepticism was obvious. His eyes dimmed and he sat back in his chair.
It was like kicking a puppy. She couldn't do it. "I just broke up with Robert here, okay? This is kind of a crazy night. It... it hurts. A lot." She dropped her eyes and started playing with the spoon again. "I thought I'd be with him forever. I was... finally happy."
Edward reached out and took her hand. "I'm so sorry."
"God, it's not your fault," she replied. "You got about as crappy a deal as I did out of this mess."
He winced at her language. It was... pretty adorable, actually. The heavy sadness in her gut lifted a little. "How is it you're not angry?" Nancy asked quietly. "Or jealous, or... something. How can you be so calm?"
Edward just shrugged. "It wasn't meant to be."
"So what?" said Nancy. "Didn't you want it to be? Don't you feel the least bit robbed here?"
"Yes," he said quietly. "I do."
Nancy blinked, surprised. This time, Edward was the one to sigh. "I grieve for what could have been. From the moment I met Giselle I was certain we would live happily ever after and... I was wrong. I've never been wrong before." He looked deeply troubled for a moment, then shrugged it off. "But theirs is true love, and I could never stand in the way. Giselle and Robert are happy and I am happy for them."
"And what about for yourself?"
He thought this one over for almost a full minute, his face contorting into an odd, puppyish look of intense concentration. When he answered, it was factual. "I know now that I could never be happy wedded to Giselle as we are not meant to be. Therefore my happiness must lie elsewhere." He hesitated, gauging her, and added, "I truly believe that it lies with you."
"That'd be nice," said Nancy, and she tried not to notice how disappointed – and hurt? – he looked as she basically rejected his proposal a second time. (Two proposals within hours of meeting her – refusing was the right thing to do, right? Accepting would be crazy. Totally, totally fairytale crazy. They lived in the real world. She'd learned that lesson a long time ago.) Instead she looked out at the couples who were swaying on the bistro's tiny cobblestone dance floor. One man had dark hair and a long blue coat. She let out a big sigh. "To tell you the truth, I knew I'd lost Robert the moment I saw him dance with Giselle."
Edward nodded slowly and gently squeezed her hand. "They are obviously very happy."
"God yes," she exclaimed, shaking her head. "And me and him never were. I mean, we were happy but not... not like that." She curled her fingers around Edward's, looking at them and the tablecloth rather than his face as she confessed, "All that time, I was so scared he'd ditch me for someone else. And now-" a harsh laugh escaped her "-now he has and I can't even hate him for it."
For a long moment, Edward was silent. He looked puzzled. "Nancy, why would you ever want to hate someone?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it. "I... I don't know." She looked at him. "Why would you want to forgive someone who hurt you?"
Edward looked surprised. "Forgiveness allows for happiness," he replied, as if it were obvious. "Why would we all not want to live in a happier world?"
Nancy was very nearly speechless. "That's... life's not that simple, Edward."
"Why not?"
No real reason came to mind. She thought about it, trying to pull together just one coherent argument to explain the world she lived in, but they all crumbled under that one question – why would we all not want to live in a happier world?
And he meant it, too. No sarcasm, totally straightforward. Nancy looked around the bistro at the couples dancing, others eating and chatting, the musicians just inside, and for a weird moment they all seemed different, new, like a literal version of that phrase about seeing things in a different light.
Edward was still watching her, calm and patient, curious and beautifully kind. Something settled in her chest; something that held echoes of the flash of stupid jealousy Nancy had felt earlier, when he'd so artlessly introduced Giselle as his heart's true desire (who said that? Who really, really said that outside of Disney Prince Charmings?), only now it was warmer and welcoming. She shook her head in a bewildered sort of admiration. "You're really something, you know that?"
He preened. Innocently. Nancy burst out laughing.
"How about we order something? Do you like cheesecake?"
Two hours and four different desserts later, Nancy was almost sleepy with contentment. Her face ached from laughing at Edward's tales of hunting stupid trolls and at his charming bewilderment when she described her own quests to conquer the world of New York fashion ("These models... they truly walk on cats?"). The image of Andalasia was building in her mind – some parts incredible, some parts heart-warming, all parts appealing – and as Edward stopped his latest story to indulge, again, in a slice of strawberry cheesecake, she rested her chin in one hand and just listened.
The violinist was playing something beautiful. Nancy couldn't quite put a finger on what – instrumental music had never been her strong suit – but it was slow and sweet and definitely romantic, meant for the few couples who were still around, too wrapped up in each other to realise that it was already after three in the morning. Nancy did realise, but it didn't matter.
Edward smiled as he turned to listen as well, and for a few minutes that was all they did. It was peaceful, and happy, and Nancy closed her eyes, just enjoying it.
Warm fingers touched her hand and she looked up; Edward was standing by their table, offering her his hand. "Nancy," he said, "shall we?"
As she accepted and stood, Nancy realised that she could have been dreaming and it wouldn't have felt any different – real, yet not real, yet more real than anything else. It was weird, but good weird; she didn't feel at all awkward, and as they began slowly turning on the floor, she found that she had never been more graceful. Dancing with Robert at the ball, hours and years ago, had been all well-practiced steps and chuckling over stumbles, but this...
This was like gliding over ice; no thinking, no doubting, just the feel of Edward's arms and his face in her tunnel vision, kind eyes gazing at her as the song floated around them.
Suddenly she placed it – the familiar music. She hadn't heard it in years, not since she was a child watching Cinderella, and the lyrics fell easily into her mind. So this is love... hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm... so this is love...
She was humming. So was Edward.
"Is this what it's like in Andalasia?" she asked quietly, afraid to break the spell. "This... happiness?"
"All the time," he promised.
They waltzed on; step, step, step, tap of boots, swirl of skirts. The glow in Nancy's chest just grew bigger, warmer. She felt lightheaded and giddy. "I want to go with you," she said suddenly. "I want to live in Andalasia."
He almost stumbled, but they came to a halt without tripping. His face had lit up like a Christmas tree with pure delight. "You do?"
Nancy reached up and kissed him – and it was a great kiss. He had no practice, and she didn't know if there was meant to be some spark signalling True Love's First Kiss or not, but she really didn't care. "Let's get married," she said, and her cheeks ached from smiling so widely. "Let's get married tomorrow."
If a person could explode with joy, that's what Edward did. He whooped and beamed, swept her into the air and twirled her around like a princess. Everyone in the room was staring at them like they were nuts and she didn't care. She laughed with pure joy.
Edward set her down, swished his short cape back, and flung a hand out toward her dramatically. "Come, my love! The magic portal awaits!"
And with gleeful abandon, she took his hand and they dashed away into Happily Ever After.