Chapter 55
Everything always feels different from what you expect, especially when it’s something you’ve wanted for so long.
I’m finally here, in the back of a cab, driving down Jonathan’s dark street towards his house, a single light in the dark.
And I thought I’d just be happy, but I’m really nervous.
The cab pulls to a stop and I get out and check the time.
It’s only seven minutes to midnight. I made it.
I stand there for a moment, holding my hair to the side as the wind whips around me, looking at the bay window and just soaking in this feeling.
The curtains are drawn, but there’s a yellow light emanating from within.
I can almost see myself there, standing in the rain, looking in through that small space between the curtains . . .
My phone lights up with a message from Es: Hey are you back in London yet? Greg had to go away for business last minute and now I have nothing to do for NY. Had two weed gummies but still so bored. Where are you? Xxx
I don’t want to jinx it, but I can’t hold it inside either. I have to share this with someone. So I hold my phone up and take a quick video of myself, spinning around slowly, grinning at the lens. Then I type: Guess? xxx
Typing bubbles . . .
Beep: I don’t know, suburbia? Please let’s do something? xxx
I text back: Jonathan asked me over! I think we’re getting back together! xxx
Typing bubbles . . .
WHHHATTTT???? Let me know how it goes! Good luck!!! Xxxxxx
I type back: Will do. Double date soon! HNY! xx
Then I stride up to Jonathan’s door, running my fingers through my hair, take a deep breath, and press the doorbell.
And then butterflies swarm in my stomach. I’m pretty sure some of them get into my head too, because I’m dizzy now.
I hear footsteps on the floorboards inside, then shadows dance under the door.
The door handle rattles and turns, and the door opens and . . .
It’s Baxter. Of course Baxter is here. He’s always here. But I will not let anything ruin this for me.
‘Hey,’ he says, frowning at me. ‘Aubrey. Umm . . . come inside. It’s freezing out there.
’ He looks at my suitcase but doesn’t say anything, just rolls it in and closes the door.
At last, I’m on the right side of the door again, back in the warmth, back in the fold.
Almost like the last eleven nights never happened.
He turns around and yells, ‘Jonathan, Aubrey’s here. ’
I hold my breath and then I hear footsteps and Jonathan comes through from the kitchen.
His eyes get a little bigger, his mouth drops open, and then . . . a smile. A huge, warm smile. He rushes over, grabs me and hugs me and I can smell his laundry detergent, his cologne. And I want to say something memorable right now. Something love-story worthy. But nothing comes.
Instead, my lips hover in a half-opened shape for a moment and then I awkwardly say: ‘Hi.’
But that’s clearly the right thing because his grin widens and he pulls me in close and kisses me.
But then he looks at my suitcase and frowns.
I don’t want him to freak out, think I’m moving in, or moving too fast .
. . Daphne’s advice comes floating back: Fun and elusive and unpredictable.
Think mysterious, alluring. I can’t wait to tell her that it worked . . .
‘I came straight from the airport,’ I explain.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Come, let me get you a drink.’
He disappears into the kitchen while I take off my coat, leave it on top of my suitcase and take a seat on the sofa. I hear cupboard doors opening and closing, and then he’s back with two glasses of wine.
He hands me one and I take a sip, and it’s like nothing exists in this entire world aside from him and me. I can’t hear the traffic outside—hell, I can barely hear the music playing from the speakers; it’s just us. Even the clocks have stopped ticking.
‘God, it’s just so great to see you again,’ he says, moving a cushion aside and sitting down beside me.
As I search Jonathan’s blue-as-blue-can-be eyes, I want to tell him everything. About our past, about the last week, but I know I can’t. At least not yet.
All in good time.
So, I keep quiet, and I let myself bask in the fact that I am here, against all odds, that we’re spending New Year’s Eve together.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, reaching for my hand. ‘For everything. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.’
And then Baxter wanders back into the room, nursing a glass of something that looks like Coke but from the pink of his cheeks I’m guessing has rum or something in it.
‘I was going to watch a movie, if you guys want to join?’ he says, sitting down next to Jonathan and reaching for the remote control.
Jonathan looks at me, then back at Baxter. ‘Thanks, but I think we’ll go to my room.’ Then he stands up and offers me his hand. I take it, and let him lead me up the stairs. It must be almost midnight by now. But halfway up, my phone starts ringing. I glance at the screen: Oscar.
He must have realised I’d left; that I’d taken my phone.
I turn it to silent and drop it into my bag.
Jonathan pushes open his bedroom door and we step inside and I’m looking at his profile, at his jaw, his lips, and all I want to do is kiss him. It’s like we’re back on the night of the break-up, and now we get to rewrite the story, change the ending.
The door shuts with a gentle click, and for one perfect moment, I am giddy with happiness. It’s like everything in the world is exactly as it should be.
But then everything gets bright. Really fucking sickly bright. And I realise, no, I’m not giddy with happiness, I’m just . . . giddy.
What’s going on?