Chapter 75
Terminal Five baggage reclaim, Heathrow Airport, London
It’s early hours of the morning in the UK when we land. The flight was bumpy and I promise with my soul that I am never flying economy again. The back pain is just not worth it. Charlie managed to sleep for almost the entire ten-hour flight, but I did not. And now I’m tired and grumpy.
But the moment we step onto the tarmac, my bad mood dissipates.
The sun is shining and there is a crisp autumnal coldness in the air.
I take a deep lungful, closing my eyes, drinking it in.
It even smells like London. None of that sticky sweetness that hangs in the LA air.
It’s all fumes and pollution and I love it. God, I have missed this place so much.
‘Come on,’ Charlie says, tugging at my sleeve. ‘Or are you planning to stay here all day smelling the plane fumes?’
I roll my eyes at him. ‘I was having a moment,’ I say. ‘A spiritual one. I was becoming one with London again.’
‘Would you like me to hold your handbag while you kiss the tarmac?’
I give him a tight smile. ‘No, thank you. I’m ready to go now.’
Just then my phone buzzes with a notification.
‘Who’s that?’ Charlie asks as he slips an arm around my shoulder.
I laugh and show him the text.
Miss K Collins. This is a message to let you know that your luggage has been located at LAX. Please contact us at your convenience to arrange collection.
‘There’s your bag,’ I say to Charlie but I’m not sure he’s heard me so I lean over and grab his battered holdall from the carousel.
He really needs to get a new bag. Maybe I’ll go shopping for one for him when we’re home.
A ‘happy getting back together’ present.
It’s so old and gross. In fact, it’s so old that it’s barely survived its time in the luggage hold and as I hoist it off the baggage belt the zip gives way and half the contents spill out onto the terminal floor.
I drop to my knees and start gathering up his belongings.
‘Oh fuck,’ Charlie shouts when he sees me on the ground. He drops down next to me. ‘You don’t need to do this,’ he says. ‘Keep an eye out for your bag.’
‘What’s this?’ I say as my fingers close around a small velvet box that’s fallen out of his bag along with all his other crap. It’s a jewellery box. Specifically, a ring box.
‘No! Give that to me,’ he says and tries to swipe the box out of my hand, but I move it out of his reach and stand up.
I open it and am suddenly staring at the most stunning ring I’ve ever seen.
It’s a cushion-cut diamond and has to be at least three carats.
The main diamond is framed by other little diamonds and it sits on a delicate platinum band that looks like it shouldn’t be able to hold all the bling. It’s absolutely stunning.
‘What’s this?’ I say, barely able to tear my eyes away from the huge sparkling rock. Is this what I think it is?
‘Ugh,’ Charlie groans from the floor, rubbing his hand across his face.
‘This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.’ He looks up at me.
‘Can you give that to me, please?’ I frown down at him, pass him the box.
‘At least I’m on one knee,’ he says. ‘That’s something.
’ He looks at the ring sitting in the box and then holds it out to me.
‘Kitty,’ he says and I can’t believe this is happening.
People at the baggage carousel are turning and looking at us.
I think I see someone get their phone out.
‘Kitty Collins. I have loved you since the day I met you. And, while I didn’t envision I’d be doing this in baggage reclaim at Heathrow, I suppose nothing about our relationship is conventional.’ Someone makes an awwww sound and Charlie takes a deep breath. ‘Will you marry me?’
I feel like I’m going to pass out. My head swims and I swear I can see stars in my peripheral vision.
This is really happening.
Charlie is down on one knee at my feet, asking me if I’ll be his wife.
How can this be real?
Just a few weeks ago he’d blocked me from everything and I thought I’d lost him forever.
I’d think I was dreaming if I had ever had a dream based at an airport before.
But it’s real.
It’s really real.
My mind skips ahead of me and I see myself walking down the aisle in a white dress – probably a Danielle Frankel – into the arms of a man who loves me more than anything else in the world.
Then the two of us are somewhere hot and exotic, maybe the Maldives, getting couple’s massages and staying in the honeymoon suite.
Then a beautiful house, obviously in Chelsea still, near good schools.
Maybe we’ll get a dog.
Maybe we could get two dogs?
But, urgh, marriage.
Isn’t that going against everything I stand for? It’s one of the foundations of patriarchy, isn’t it? Literally invented so women become property. Ownership and obedience dressed up as romance.
That rock is really nice though.
‘You need to give him an answer, love,’ an older lady standing at my shoulder says.
Oh, right, yes. I suppose I do.
I look down at Charlie, patiently waiting for my answer. My Charlie. Who sees me exactly as I am. Who knows my darkness. Has seen my darkness. And still wants me. Still loves me. How could my answer be anything other than yes?
‘Yes,’ I say and a look of pure relief washes over Charlie’s face as the small crowd that has gathered around us erupts into cheers and whoops and cries of ‘congratulations’.
‘Thank God for that,’ he says, pulling himself up to standing as a man slaps him on the back. ‘You were quiet for so long I thought you were going to say no.’
I pull him into my arms. ‘As if,’ I say and he takes the ring out of the box and slides it on my finger. It’s so gorgeous I already can’t imagine my finger without it. I pull him towards me and rise up on my toes so I can kiss his mouth.
‘Sorry about the venue,’ he mutters. ‘I was obviously planning to do this somewhere else. Somewhere romantic.’
‘Shh,’ I say. ‘This is perfect.’
‘You’re perfect,’ he says and grips the back of my head as he kisses me deeply. The crowd around us whoops again and someone wolf-whistles.
‘Get a room,’ someone shouts and we break apart laughing.
‘That,’ says Charlie. ‘Sounds like a good idea. Ready to get out of here, Mrs Chambers?’
‘There’s no way I’m taking your name,’ I say.
‘I know,’ says Charlie. ‘I’m still going to call you that though.’
We walk, arm in arm, through the terminal towards the taxi rank, Charlie waving to the crowd like he’s a celebrity.
I’m engaged.
I’m fucking engaged.