When we make it to the platform, his expression is hooded when he motions to the train waiting there. “There it is. The one that says Edenbridge. That’s actually our final destination. Let’s climb on.”

“Edenbridge?” I ask, keeping my gaze carefully off of his beautiful face (and of course off of those lips that made me lose my mind a few moments ago) while I take his offered hand.

My poker face might be on strong, but I’m still walking on rubbery, almost-kissed-Royce-Devlin-in-a-train-station legs, so I let him literally haul me up the extra high first step, and then up into the train itself.

“Thanks.” I whisper out.

“Edenbridge is the name of the town where we’re going.”

“Is it also the name of the castle?” I guess.

“Nope. Come on.”

He starts off down this narrow train corridor lined with windows on one side, pulling out the cards that had come from the machine to read them. “I know we’re trying to stay incognito, but I booked us first class fares for this portion of the trip. That was the only place I could guarantee seats. And to be safe, I bought out a whole berth so we can close our door and be alone.” He hands me the stack of tickets and I note that there are, in fact, six tickets instead of two. “Our berth is down at the end here. Number 537” He shows me where the numbers are on each door, while I whisper the word ‘berth’ to myself, because who knew that’s what these little rooms inside of trains were called?

Glancing around I realize there is no one else in this car yet—not even in any of the berths, so quickly I call out, “I think we should also swap our outfits here. You know…how Adam suggested? And…oh wow,” I add, losing my train of thought…because…holy cow. I’ve started to look inside each of the berths. There’s eight total in this car, and each of them has six seats inside with windows looking out of the far side over the tracks. They have little drop down tables and on the side of the corridor where we’re walking, there’s additional frosted windows for light and, a sliding glass door.

“Oh wow, what?” He pauses, and glances back at me.

I want to shout out to him that this is my very first, real above ground train ride ever. (Not counting Big Thunder Mountain at Disneyland, but that is a roller coaster made to look like a train, not a real train). And I also want to shout out that this train, if he can’t notice it for himself, looks exactly like the Hogwarts Express! Exactly!

But I don’t.

Instead I bite my lip and say, “Oh. The train is very cute, that’s all.” Because after his reaction to my ‘never tasted alcohol’ comment, and how I licked my lips and nearly randomly planted one on him like a complete psycho a few moments ago, I think I’m done embarrassing myself for the day.

Only, despite my extreme control on the outside, inside…oh man! As we pass each adorable berth…I’m thinking of chocolate frogs and Ron and Hermione meeting for the first, time all while internally screaming: So. Happy right now. Ahh. Ahhh this is going to be so cool. So. Cool!

“Good idea on the costume change.” He pauses to put our suitcase into the last room of six seats. “This one is ours. Let’s do that first before other passengers load up.” Royce nods, motioning me to the empty, adorable train bathroom located at the end of the corridor nearest our berth. He steps in first, I’m assuming to make sure it’s empty, before nodding again that I should go in. “Hand me all your stuff except for a change of clothes, and I’ll put it in our berth, then guard the door from here. If no one comes I’ll swap my shirt out very quickly before you come out.”

“Okay.” I close the bathroom door, noting that it is also glass and frosted. There’s a tiny sink and the entire floor is tiled with these postage stamp sized tiles. Thankfully it’s also very clean. “But like…step away from the door a little. Would you? The glass door is making me feel…awkward. Like you’re too close or something.”

He laughs and so do I, calling out. “How can this be more awkward or I be more close than us sleeping together with a pillow mountain between us while you hide in a hoodie and I wear strange bathrobes to bed over my clothes?”

I don’t answer that, because he’s right, and when I come out the train has started moving. He’s already changed into a cool paisley print shirt and swapped his pants to some soft looking grandpa-grey slacks.

He turns away from the window he’d been staring out of and looks at me in my new-old dress up and down, letting out a low whistle as he pauses to straighten out one side of my rounded, lace collar. Tapping the granny glasses that have slid down my nose again, slightly back up, he says finally, “You look half hipster, half messy-housewife and all amazing. The belt was a great idea.”

I smile, spinning a little and adjusting the belt around my waist because he seems to be staring at it a little too hard. I’m thinking, maybe it’s not right. “It’s so cool, isn’t it? Can you imagine a time when women had to wear stuff like this every single day? This one has this sewn in, puffy-scratchy-slip thing underneath the skirt that makes it pop.”

“A crinoline, maybe?”

“Who knows? I’m shocked that you even try to guess at what it’s called.”

“Sorry. Years of stylists, time on studio back lots, and stage costumes gives me an odd knowledge base. And…on my last Netflix binge?” He colors a little before going on, “I did binge watch Downton Abbey, Poldark and Sherlock back to back. I’m now a huge donor to BBC programming.”

“Wow. No, way.” I grin at him, noting that my crush on this guy has just doubled because…he’s so cute admitting this to me right now.

“Whatever the slip thing is, it’s really fun to wear.” I add, wiggling a little in my dress. “See how it poofs out all by itself? It’s why I look so fabulously ready to swing-dance or do the twist or something, huh?” I twirl around once, but accidentally crash into the side window. “Ow.”

He grabs both of my upper arms and catches me so I don’t slam into his chest as I add, “Did I mention I can’t dance?”

“Looked like okay moves to me.” His voice is oddly low as he steps behind me and I lead us back into our berth.

Inside, I’m struck silent. I’m trying so hard to hold my breath as I gaze around, because, because…wow. Best. Train. Ever. Wizards!

Because I’m determined to be sophisticated and grown up, and not at all embarrassing, it takes all of my strength to bite my lip and not say one word as we choose seats across from each other.

Only, when Royce leans over and closes the sliding glass door then turns to me, waggling his brows high saying, “Totally Harry Potter awesome, in here, right? I’m Gryffindor. You?” I know I’m lost. I’m totally done for—I’m not going to be able to keep quiet.

“Ravenclaw,” I blurt out, flicking him a glance, praying he won’t judge me after this. “But once I did the quiz again, and wound up Hufflepuff so…I’m not sure. I guess I just want to be both,” I add, because the simile he’s giving me is so knowing—so sincere and approving that double crush I’d been forming just hit triple-crush.

“Right. Why can’t we be two or three?” He nods. “Slytherin is so attractive to me sometimes.”

“Dark-sided, rockstar,” I accuse.

“Hell yes, I am.” Suddenly he’s grinning so wide and nodding and laughing with me, all while telling me things like how he and his mom read each book, side by side and cover to cover, each release day. How they needed two copies because they couldn’t wait. How he sometimes gets sad from missing her when he comes across the movies playing on TV.

I tell him that I read each book to Sage out loud—because he was too little to really read his own. I shared how my father listened along with us, though he always pretended not to care. Only, Dad was the one who made sure we were at every movie opening night—all of us wearing movie t-shirts he’d purchased from Hot Topic. Which, for a Special Forces guy is not a natural place to shop. But for us… our dad, he did it.

I told Royce how Dad even let us both miss school and how he faked sick for work once, just so I could keep reading the end of last book.

We realized that we never noticed how much those books shaped parts of our whole childhood experiences, but they did. And I agreed with him, noting that I also get sad now when the movies are on TV. When I see them, it makes me wonder how in the heck Sage and I grew up so fast—like how could I be eighteen right now, and Sage… heading into high school? It also makes me think about how the whole family used to drop everything to watch those re-run movies, all over again. Despite having other things to do, Harry Potter is always the best and first choice.

Then, as the train pulled in to the final stop, we talked about how one day, he and I will go together to see the actual Wizarding World of Harry Potter inside Universal Studios, Orlando. I told him Sage nearly died of sadness, because we didn’t have the money or the time to go inside.

That’s when he vowed to go back, and take me there all over again. Together, we visualized how we would choose wands and find the Butterbeer, and go on the rides and eat chocolate frogs until our stomachs hurt, and…yeah, next time. We’d do… everything, just…everything.

That last part, probably won’t happen, though. Because he’s really not allowed to go to theme parks unless he wants 2000 fans following behind him. And frankly, going in would probably ruin what we’d dreamed about together so perfectly on this most perfect train ride.

This past year has taught me that reality can kind of suck. And now that I’m getting older, I wonder if some dreams might be better when they stay inside your head. This dream, above all…is one I think want to keep forever, as is. Because right now, it’s all floating possibilities, and exciting huge promises, and giving met that chest-expanding anticipation I love.

That’s enough, right?

When I’m back in Orlando again, it will mean our marriage will be over. Sage and I, if we don’t find my Dad by then? We might even move back to Orlando and be with the Perino family permanently. That’s what we had originally planned before I got married.

They’re waiting for us to return, and we actually can’t wait to go back there. And when we do—whenever that may be, I’ll take Sage to the park and do all the things Royce and I talked about together, instead.

Because…that’s my real life.

My brother and I had that plan, long before we dropped into Royce’s fake life.

I contemplate the dips and planes in his gorgeous profile as the train stops and he stands to take the vintage suitcase down while sending me a silver-eye-twinkling, excited smile while pointing to a faraway castle we can both see out of the train’s window.

I can’t help but smile back, thinking…by then, Royce will be somewhere far from this place. He’ll be touring with Guarderobe again probably, being the amazing rockstar that is him. Hopefully, he and I will be friends, but most probably, he will be married to someone else.

Really and truly married. Not fake married and not planning trips with his ‘child-bride’ as people call me, to an amusement park, that’s for sure.

I shake my head, following out of our train berth, looking back once to re-count the six seats back there, and smile. Because…whatever… it was fun to make up the dream…