Page 69 of When London Snow Falls

Ben’s delighted. “I missed you too, Charlie. I told my nan about you and everything,” he teases.

“Oh, let’s not start with family yet.” Instead, I give him another impulsive kiss, which is met with enthusiasm. Forget being in an airport. I don’t care who sees us kissing.

“Mmm.”

Despite the concourse being full of holiday travelers, and the stream of arrivals and people coming and going from the trains and the airport’s entry doors, we stand in our own world. We spend a long moment grinning at each other before I come back to some sort of sense. He must be tired from traveling, and probably dehydrated from the flight. The thimbles of water they serve onboard are nowhere enough.

“I bought water,” I blurt, retrieving the water bottles. “For you, I mean. I wasn’t sure if you liked sparkling or still water, so I got both.”

“Aww, now that’s premium service,” Ben teases affectionately, taking the still water. He uncaps it and takes a drink. “Cheers. Your barista is showing.”

“I know, I know, I can’t help it. I would’ve brought you tea, but who knows if it’s up to Scottish standards. I didn’t dare coffee because I would judge them shamelessly. And who knows if there would be another delay. Then I’d be standing out here with a cold cup of coffee for you. That wouldn’t do. And it’s too cold for iced coffee.”

He laughs again. “Thank God that crisis is avoided.”

“A near miss.”

Banter with Ben is effortless. We could go on like this all night, in our own private territory of Gatwick Airport, but it’s probably not the most romantic way to spend our first date. The sparkling water would serve as our champagne, though. Till we found a lounge with drinks in here, at least.

“Right. You’ve kept me in suspense long enough. I didn’t bring a passport or a getaway van. Are we going on the run together?” I ask archly. “You running some kind of crime ring? I’m watching for the signs, I’ll have you know.”

Ben reaches out and smooths my crimson scarf. “Sounds dreamy. The running away part. Not the crime ring part. I promise no crime. Unless hanging out with you is some kind of crime.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Not in England. There’s an exemption.”

“Thank God for that.” Ben nods, admiring my weekender bag slung over my shoulder. It’s herringbone wool with leather trim. “Stylish traveler, you.”

I redden. “It’s a gift from my family. Not recent. But it does the job.”

Ben’s hard-shell suitcases, by comparison, are covered in all kinds of stickers. Band stickers. Travel stickers. Random stickers. Stickers everywhere, bursting with color.

“I like the look you’re going for there,” I say.

Ben gazes at the cases. “Cheers. Black bags are boring. Plus, nobody’s nicking these without me noticing. It’s actually an anti-theft strategy.”

“A winning one.” I give him a level look. “Quit stalling, Morrissey.”

“Ask,” Ben says mischievously.

“Shrewd to hit back with a Smiths song.How Soon Is Now?” I retort.

Ben makes a show of looking at his phone, singing the opening line, enough to make me shiver. He’s not loud, but it’s more than enough to send tingles up my spine as he gazes at me. A couple of people glance over but don’t linger. The flow of humanity continues around us.

“I think it’s time to catch a train, don’t you?” Ben looks innocent. “How do you feel about the sea?”

“The sea? God, is that where you’re disposing of the body? Maybe I should text your nan.”

Cracking up, he gives me an impulsive kiss. “I love that you always go for the most dramatic option.”

“I’m just thinking of every last possibility,” I assure him as we at last head toward the entrance to the train and stop by a ticket machine. “I just thought you wanted an escort back home. Technically, London is on the sea.”

“Wrong direction,” says Ben as he presses the screen for tickets. When he selects Brighton, my eyebrows lift.

“Brighton?”

“It’s on the sea, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes. Last I checked. Unless they’ve moved it, of course.” I look thoughtfully at him, like someone might have snuck that one past me.

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