Page 64 of Five Things I Love About You

‘Come on, Miranda, this is it! You’ve done it – isn’t it everything you hoped for?’

I swallow my mouthful. ‘Yes, it is. I’m sorry, I just feel a bit overwhelmed.’

‘Fine. But you need to charm him, M. Make him fall head over heels in love with you, wonder how he ever lived his life without you. Wasn’t that how it felt in your dreams?’

I think back to those dreams, to the way I’ve felt for so many nights over the last year, ever since I hit my head. I think about how, during those dreams, it had truly felt as though I’d found the man I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. How we were meant to be together.

I think about Sophie’s tarot reading, and the reason I decided to come up to Newcastle in the first place. How I’d told my friends I needed to take matters into my own hands rather than just sitting around moping and hoping something would change.

How I’d hoped this would be the fresh start I needed.

‘You’re right,’ is all I say. ‘Thanks Soph.’

We say our goodbyes and hang up, and as I finish my sandwich, I go over everything that’s happened over the last twenty-four hours. The bike ride with Matt, the game of pool, the easy intimacy I felt when we were together. The kiss. Then running away from him, the car crash, and finding Jay. It’s all so much to take in and my brain feels like it’s about to short-circuit.

I’m startled by my phone ringing again, and this time it’s Kirstie. Sophie was clearly straight on the phone to her after we hung up, and as much as I love her, I’m not sure I’ve got the energy to speak to her right now. I send it to voicemail, and a few seconds later a text comes through.

Kirstie

I know you’re ignoring me, but I just need to tell you not to be an idiot. Forget about this random bloke in hospital. Matt’s the one for you. Ring me when you’re being less of a wimp. Love you. K x

I can’t help smiling. She can always see right through me. But I don’t need her to talk me out of anything, or confuse me any further, so I close the message without replying, put my phone on silent, and leave to go and walk Alan again.

It’s only as I’m clipping on my cycling helmet that I remember I still haven’t replied to Matt. I ignore the guilt, and push down on the pedals.

21

Once I’ve walked Alan, I give him some fresh food and a cuddle, then lock Jay’s house behind me. I was quickly in and out this time, but it still strikes me as odd that the house feels as though he doesn’t really live there, but rather uses it as somewhere functional to eat and work. I think about my house in London – the coats and shoes lined up along the hallway, the family photos and postcards of things I love covering one wall of the living room, the stuffed bookshelves; the kids’ height over the years is still marked on a doorway, and other signs that they lived there until very recently everywhere you look.

I feel a sudden pang for my home and wonder how the family who are renting it are getting on. Are they taking care of it? Have they worked out that the back door handle only locks properly when you lift it slightly to help it catch, or that next door’s cat likes to stare through the patio doors disconcertingly most evenings, even making itself at home on the sofa on nights when the doors are slung open to the garden? Have they kept the hedge at the front neatly trimmed, or has it grown wild, tendrils dancing across the pavement?

The contrast between my home and Jay’s couldn’t be more obvious, and I wonder whether it’s just because he’s naturally tidier than me, or if there’s simply not much else to his life apart from work and Alan. It feels sad, if that’s the case.

I really need to get to know this man better, find out what makes him tick.

I had a text from him earlier, confirming that he’s being kept in overnight, so I’m on my way to see him with a bunch of grapes and a brand new Lee Child novel. I don’t want to push my luck.

I decide to drop my bike at home and walk to the hospital this time – it’s only about twenty-five minutes through the park and into town, and it’s easier than leaving my bike somewhere or trying to park. Plus, I really don’t want Jay to know I cycle in case he puts two and two together and works out who I am. I guess if we do start spending more time together, I’ll eventually have to admit that his accident was my fault, but for now I just need him to like me – and I suspect that causing someone serious injuries is not the way to win them over.

I make my way through the now-familiar reception area, towards the lifts and up to the fifth floor. As I enter the ward this time a nurse nods a greeting and I smile. When I arrive in Jay’s room, my heart stops for a moment because he’s not in his bed and I wonder whether he’s left without telling me. But why would he? I mean, I’ve got his house keys for a start.

But then he sits up straight and I realise he’d been sitting on the chair beside the bed all along. I smile in relief.

‘Hey,’ I say, walking over, and he looks round with a smile when he notices me.

‘Hello, you’re a sight for sore eyes.’ My heart flutters a little. I hate to admit it but I have made a bit of an effort this evening. Last time I was here I looked unkempt and like I hadn’t slept – which, to be fair, I hadn’t. I wanted to look at least half-decent this time, in the hope that Jay might notice me.

It seems to have worked because his eyes have lit up. ‘Actually, you look amazing,’ he says.

‘Oh, thanks. I’ve just had a shower.’ I grin, and he grins back.

‘You’ve caught me looking my best too.’ He gestures at his hospital gown, which looks like an old-fashioned nightdress with faded vertical purple and white stripes. It only reaches just below his knee and the calves poking out of the bottom are toned and covered in fine dark hair. His toes look well-groomed too – there’s nothing worse than wizened old toenails to turn my stomach.

I stop staring at his feet and look up at his face.

‘I think the colour of the gown really brings out the pink in your eyes,’ I say and he laughs, a soft, melodic laugh that makes me stop in my tracks. Does it feel familiar? Have I heard that laugh before? Maybe.

I sit on the bed, my feet dangling slightly off the ground. ‘So, how are you feeling this evening?’

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