Chapter 44
Bridget Jones Tally:
panic—absofuckinglutely
October
I never could have imagined that I would be so happy to see the inside of Edinburgh Airport. To set foot on British soil.
To know that the wait was over. To be safe in the knowledge that, no matter what was about to happen, soon there would be
chips.
I’m not sure that I had ever been quite so nervous and excited in all my life. My heart was in my mouth, butterflies were
in my tummy, and I had to pee even though I’d just gone.
Robbie had no idea that I was coming. It was going to be a surprise. A great big surprise. But good surprise or bad surprise, only time would tell. We hadn’t been able to speak very much the past few months because he had been busy with tours all summer, and I had been working my rear off to tie up all loose ends, hire my replacement and train him, pack up my apartment, store the majority of my worldly possessions in cardboard boxes in my parents’ house, buy a new goddamned suitcase—well, two large ones and a two small ones, if I’m being honest, which would forever be to blame for my permanent squint and gnarled spine from lugging them around like Quasimodo taking his bells on vacation. I had sold everything I could, apart from my body, because I didn’t want to die of syphilis after I had gone through all the hassle of packing. Yes, I was in it for the long haul, and I had hauled a lot.
I had almost no solid plans after my arrival. I would go on this amazing music-filled tour for the next three weeks; afterward,
I was going to stay with Lorna and Madge in North Berwick for ten days and help where I could with event planning and getting
some big grant applications in. The rest I would just have to play by ear. I had started reaching out to organizations with
my résumé, and I was also looking into the possibility of a master’s degree at the University of Edinburgh. But until something
was sorted, I would need to find a bartending shift or a café job, probably a flatshare, and try very, very hard not to blow
my savings on scones and clotted cream.
Perhaps I would move on to get my doctorate and become a professor; maybe I’d build my own grassroots start-up using photo
essays to show the world what it is like to be a woman in a developing community in the Global South; or maybe I would open
up my own bakery bookshop with boozy events, scone stamp cards, and weekly book club meetings. I didn’t know. I could plan,
I could dream, but just like every other person on the planet, I didn’t know. And I was okay with that.
My only plan was to surprise Robbie. And now that I thought about it, What in the flaming hell was I thinking!? He could be seeing someone else (some leather-faced harlot, no doubt), he could have forgotten me (I would have), or it could be too much too soon (obviously). But I had envisioned his surprised face so many times now that I just couldn’t bring myself to spoil it. Besides, I wanted to do something wild and spontaneous and huge for the first time in my life, and not have any future plans other than to follow my heart.
The way I saw it, this could have two possible outcomes: (1) From the passionate throes of picturesque marital bliss, I would
congratulate myself, again and again, for making the best decision in recorded human history, or (2) I would fling myself onto a burning pyre and sizzle slowly, making sure I had ample time to lament loudly, and sing my
tale of woe for all to hear while Robbie toasted s’mores on the flames. I’d probably be finding out if it was to be option
1 or option 2 in about an hour and a half sharp.
I dragged my Sisyphean heap of luggage into the bathroom for a bit of slapdash quality control. Listerine, mascara, deodorant:
If I was going to tell Robbie that he was probably the love of my life, I didn’t want to murder him with my breath before
I could even finish asking if he’d have me.
Breathe, Alice.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
There he was, in his usual parking spot. Punctual this time, looking like a vat of chocolate I wanted to dive into. Messy
hair, blue eyes, cheeky grin, stubble, snug green sweater. Holy crap! I’d forgotten he looked this good. I don’t have a shot in hell!
I had put my hood up and hidden myself across the street at Harvey Nichols. I was pretending to be busy with window shopping
as I watched him call out names, hug old ladies, and help them on the bus. Ohhh! Doris and Percy! I had to hold myself back from running over and ruining the surprise.
My entire body was a live wire. I wanted to run full speed until I collided into him, knocked him over, and covered his helpless
prostrate body with kisses in the street.
“Jean Simmons.” I saw him stop, smirk at the name, and then scrub his face with his hand. I wondered if he was remembering a time six months before when he had been laughing at my name instead.
“Hellooo? Jean Simmons? Is Jean Simmons about somewhere?” He looked around, checked his watch, and then dug his phone out
of his jeans and started to dial. That was my cue!
Leaving my luggage behind, I snuck up and cleared my throat. “Are you waiting for me?”
His face shot up at the sound of my voice, and he stared at me, completely frozen. Then he grabbed me quickly and suddenly,
as if I might fly away, and hugged me so hard that I’m sure I heard a rib crack. When he finally let go, he searched my face,
laughed, and then hugged me again.
“Alice, oh my God! What are you doing here?”
“Well, I have a tour booked.”
“What? Is this you? Jean Simmons?” He laughed so hard that I felt it in every bone in my body. “I should have known! Are you
really coming with us?”
“Yep!” My grin stretched into a smile so wide that it hurt.
“Jesus!” he said, sweeping me into another hug. “Oh my God. This is bloody brilliant! Christ! How did you get here? Why didn’t
you tell me? I can’t believe this! You’re really coming with us?”
“Yep! I’m really coming with you! I even learned a couple of songs to sing.” He spun me around again and I giggled like a
child. “Well, you know... I thought it was probably a good idea to learn a bit more about Scottish culture, now that I’m
a local.”
“Huh?” He frowned and cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean...” I pointed to the suitcases across the street. “That you’ll have to lug around an extra suitcase or two this
time. Because I’m moving in.”
His brow creased. “Moving in?”
“Yep.”
“You mean...”
“I just moved over. To Edinburgh. I live here now. As of about an hour ago.”
This is it. This is the moment.
His smile dropped. “You’re joking...” he said flatly.
“Nope.”
“I don’t believe you.” His face grew tight and serious. “This is so sudden. You wouldn’t just leave your life. Your new job...”
“I did.”
“But...”
“But what?”
“Well...” The corner of his mouth quirked a fraction. “Did you even make a pros and cons list?”
“Of course I did. I made dozens.”
“And how did I fare?”
“Oh, you lost every time.” He laughed. “But, you see, the thing is... you make me frustrated, and a little nauseous, and
like I have a whole hive of bees buzzing under my skin.” He looked alarmed. My heart started to pound. “And when I’m with
you, I feel like I’m standing at the top of a cliff and I have vertigo, and it makes me feel like if I just flapped my arms,
I could fly. And I want to be touching you, like, all the time, and when I do, your skin gives me a literal contact high.
And when I’m not with you, I can’t stop thinking about you. Ever. I have tried so hard, and it never works.” He didn’t say
anything. I didn’t give him time. My heart was racing. I thought I might pass out. I started to lose it. “The thing is, I’ve
never felt like this before. And I moved here for me , to have an adventure, and I know I didn’t ask you, and if you don’t want me here, that’s okay. But, you know, if you do , well, being in love is an adventure I want to try, and...” I pumped the brakes and stopped myself before I imploded.
“Well? Dear God, please say something.”
He let out the breath he had been holding during my entire solilo quay. It looked painful. He swallowed hard. His eyes looked misty, if it wasn’t the bracing October wind. He stared at me for a searching moment and then over at my mountain of luggage. He put a hand up to his forehead, grabbed a fist full of his hair and pulled at it before dropping his hand over his mouth.
“Oh, Alice. You’ve ruined everything.”
I steadied myself against the bus. My soul left my body in one giant rip.
He shook his head. “I have been working so hard for months. Saving, planning, booking flights. I’ve made this whole grand
plan to come win you back. It was going to be so romantic.”
My heart flapped its wings in the cage of my chest. My nose stung. “You did?”
His blue eyes sparkled like sun on the sea. “But that’s all ruined.” He stepped closer. “I guess we’ll need a new plan now.”
I nodded and sniffed. A gaudy tear broke free and splashed on my cheek. “I can help with that.”
“Well, you’d better start filling in your spreadsheets then. Because there’ll be no getting rid of me now, Alice Cooper.”
Then he stepped forward and wrapped me up in his arms. I closed my eyes, and behind them, the world exploded into color as
he pulled me into the most passionate, most world-shattering, most soul-filling, most life-defining kiss since the invention
of kissing.
When I could open them again, I wiped the tears away from my flushed cheeks and shot a look at the window to see every fluffy
white head and bifocal pair of glasses pressed comically, mouths agog, against the windows.
“Wait a minute...” I said, as Robbie moved to collect my bags. “Is this an old lady tour?”