“Boys can be mermaids, too!” I reassured Paisley. “I don’t have any stock of this design, though. It’s still a prototype. Orders only for this outfit today.”

“Can I have it, Mum? Please?” she clasped her hands together, doing that googly eye thing that kids are so good at.

“Why don’t you have a browse. There might be something else that catches your eye,” I told them both. “Luci will keep Jonah entertained.”

As the pair wandered my stall, I glanced up. Ezra was helping Humphrey to set up his stall. They were chatting easily.

And Joe had slipped away while I was busy with Paisley.

“I’m sorry, lucky undies,” I whispered, patting myself on the bum. “I should learn to trust that you know what you’re doing.”

* * *

My undies fully redeemed themselves that morning. I was busy—really busy. It seemed that word was finally getting out amongst the ferret-having population that I was making adorable costumes for their best boys and girls.

I’d taken five orders for ‘The Little Mer-ferret’, and I’d sold a bunch of my premade costumes. The wizard had been particularly popular today, although the devil costume was closing the gap. I’d even had a custom order for a pink axolotl costume from a couple with the biggest albino boy I’d ever seen.

“Are you sure you’re a ferret and not a Maltese Terrier in disguise, my mate?” I asked him as I fed him one of Luci’s treats, winding my tape measure around his girthy middle. He nipped my finger. His owners tensed, but I laughed, scratching him on the head.

“Definitely channelling the Maltese vibes, aren’t you?”

His owners cackled at that, and by the glint in their eyes and their wide smiles when they said they looked forward to seeing me again when they collected their order, I was sure I’d secured myself a repeat customer.

My good luck apparently extended beyond my market stall, too. During a lull between customers, Ezra sidled over from where he’d been hanging out, watching Humphrey working his potting magic.

“Thank you,” he whispered, giving my shoulders a squeeze before I could so much as open my mouth to apologise for my verbal diarrhoea.

“Uh … you’re welcome?” I turned to him warily. “Ez, I’m so⁠—”

“Please don’t apologise, Jem.” He pressed a finger to my lips. I eyed him curiously, and he grinned, pushing my glasses back up my nose for me. “Your outburst was perfect! Humphrey told me that he felt like a deer in the headlights last month because he was crushing hard on me!”

Ezra tucked a strand of pink hair behind my ear as a slow smile spread across my face. “Are you telling me, Ezra Van den Berg, that if I hadn’t blurted it out, the pair of you would probably have spent the next six months mooning over each other silently?”