Page 130 of The One That I Want

‘I should go. I’ve got work,’ I say, ignoring that I didn’t ask my driver to wait and now I’m stranded.

‘Yeah, me too.’

‘Can’t keep the caffeine addicts waiting,’ I say. I smile, even though on the amusement scale, that was barely a one out of ten.

‘Right.’ He holds up the envelope. ‘Thanks for this.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Bye, Greta.’

And then he’s gone, the door to the building closing behind him, and I’m left standing on a doorstep in Central London, wondering if that’s it.

Ewan,

It’s a funny thing, the moment you realise something’s missing.

You can have the fullest life – the career you’ve always dreamt of, close family ties, a best friend who’s like a sister, colleagues you adore. You can live in the most beautiful city in the world, have a wardrobe full of clothes, and a lovely flat with a leafy aspect.

You can have all these things – all these people in your life – and one day, it occurs to you that you also want to be in love.

And not just the romcom version of love with its Sunday breakfasts at the dining table, sun streaming in the window, or playful visits to Portobello Market to try on silly hats and laugh at each other, or all the other parts of a romcom movie montage.

You want real love.

You want difficult conversations about ex-partners, and not-so-perfect love scenes where noses crash as you kiss, but the connection – physical and emotional – is real. You want to learn about each other gradually, conversing about trivial anecdotes that make you laugh, and big ideas that form the foundation of who you are.

You want the anticipation of seeing them, the warmth of being in their presence, the delight of making them laugh, the assuredness that you will be there when they need you – because when you love someone, it’s never a case of ‘if’ but ‘when’.

You want to grow together and explore – the world and life and all its possibilities – and perhaps one day create a family, first of two – or three, if there’s a beloved pet – then having a child, maybe two.

You want to lay yourself bare and say, ‘This is me. I’m kind and generous and selfish and vain. I’m clever and sometimes stupid and driven but also stuck and needing a nudge. I amawake to the wonders of this world but blind to what is in front of me.

I’m me – flawed, imperfect, but open and willing and wanting.

Wanting you.

If you will have me.

If you will let me explain.

If you will consider forgiving me.’

You want to say all these things when you’re on the brink of falling in love with someone and have behaved badly.

You want to be given a second chance because you’re so unbelievably sorry – for not being truthful, for failing to see what you had, for being swept up by a construct of what you thought you wanted…

You want to say all this and be forgiven and start again with, ‘Hi, I’m Greta. So nice to meet you…’ and with hope in your heart, see where it can go.

I’m so sorry, Ewan. Please can we start again?

Love,

Greta x

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GRETA

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