Page 97 of Textbook Romance

I allow her to continue.

‘…woman who was battling with so many things and who just didn’t want to get hurt again.’

‘I’d never have hurt you, Zoe.’

‘Oh, you did anything but,’ she tells me. She squeezes my hand. ‘You rebuilt me. You and your strange magic made me feel again. I felt alive. And I fell in love with you completely.’ Her voice shakes, her bottom lip wobbling. ‘I am sorry I made you think I didn’t love you. I really am.’

I stand there in shock. She did feel all of that, too. All that spark, all that connection. For weeks, I’ve been trying to work out what had happened. ‘But Zoe… I…’ I stand there at the security gate, looking at the queues of people waiting to go in.

She follows my gaze. ‘In Winchester, I saw a message on your phone about the job,’ she goes on to explain, ‘and deep down, I felt it would be selfish of me to keep you from that.’

‘So you lied,’ I tell her.

‘You could argue I loved you so much that I just wanted what was best for you.’

‘Maybe that’s you,’ I say resolutely.

‘Maybe.’

‘I’ve not crossed over yet. I could stay,’ I tell her, slightly frantic, unsure of what this all means.

‘Not a chance,’ she tells me, kissing my hands. ‘Go. Enjoy. I just wanted to tell you that if you’ve seen my light burning fucking bright, it’s only been because of you, Jack Damon.’ She shakes her head to be saying it all out loud but only because it feels like a revelation to her, too. I keep looking up at the board, listening to mumbled announcements about boarding gates but also looking at her, feeling that radiance that’s always shone from her, wondering where we go from here.

‘I really do love you,’ I tell her.

‘I know. You bought me a tree.’

I pull her into me, whispering in her ear, ‘And chicken. Don’t forget the chicken.’ And she laughs. And it’s like music. Our faces meet and I wrap my arms around her picking her up in that airport so her feet skim the floor. I push the hair from her face and kiss her, the closeness of her, the intensity of feeling still flooding every cell. It’s still everything I knew I wanted, just this amazing woman in front of me, to be able to hold her for as long as I can.

I rest my cheek against hers. ‘I don’t want this to be goodbye.’

‘I don’t think it is,’ she whispers back to me, reassuringly. ‘Go. Let’s see where this takes us, yeah?’

I nod. ‘I guess we should try to keep in touch. Can I write to you?’ I ask.

‘Write?’

‘Letters,’ I tell her.

‘That’s old school…’

And I laugh, in the middle of that very crowded airport. ‘Seriously? Have I taught you nothing? Less of the old, yeah?’

EPILOGUE

August

Zoe

‘I’m just saying, Lottie, it’s a Muslim country so it’s important to respect their culture, their laws. So less of the swearing.’

‘I’m not swearing at a person, though. I’m swearing at a mosquito. There is a huge difference. I don’t think even Allah would have objections to that.’

Dylan and I both close our eyes at Lottie’s volume and sheer gall. I don’t want to fight. It’s been a long flight through Kuala Lumpur and onwards to Borneo and we’re tired, the thick humidity draining us of good humour and energy. It turns out that it was quite easy to persuade two teens to do an adventure holiday in Malaysia as long as it also included some time on a beach to create Instagram content. I look at them now with their trusted backpacks, supping at fizzy drinks we bought from this small restaurant.

‘Hold up,’ Lottie tells us, taking her phone out for another selfie. Am I in this one? I guess I am, so I smile in the background. Lottie vets it before saving it. ‘Mum, can I just say with the braid and the boots, you’re giving me proper Tomb Raider vibes, yeah?’

I pull her in for a hug. The braid is Lottie’s work as we both realised at the airport that this humidity was going to kill our curls into frizz. God bless the teenager who learned how to braid on YouTube.

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