Page 102 of Falling for You
I open and close my mouth, unable to get the words that are swimming in my mind in the right order. Penny catches me glance towards my sewing machine and sighs.
‘You’re worried you won’t be able to carry on with your business,’ she says.
I nod, my eyes welling up again. ‘I guess …’ I say, my voice thick as I push the tissue to my eyes. ‘I guess I always thought that one day I might do all of this as my proper job, not just as a hobby, and taking on this CEO job just feels like I’m walking away from that.’
‘You could still do it, though,’ Tanya says. ‘You’ve always done this alongside working full-time, and absolutely smashed it.’
I shake my head. ‘I see how hard Pam works. If I take this on, I won’t have any time to do it. I won’t be able to turn around commissions like this; I’ll have to give it up and like, just make the odd costume here and there.’
I make the mistake of looking at Tanya. Her eyes are wide with worry and are shining back at me.
‘Why are you crying?’ I laugh, poking her with my foot.
She laughs and shakes her head. ‘I just want you to be happy, Annie.’
I exhale slowly. ‘I need to take this job,’ I say. ‘It’s the right thing to do. It’s the sensible thing to do. It’s just hard, isn’t it? The idea of giving up your dreams.’
‘You can always come back to it,’ Penny says gently. ‘It doesn’t have to be forever.’
I shrug and we all sink into silence. I can almost feel Tanya scrabbling around, trying to find a way to fix everything, and Penny, trying to think of a way to make me feel better.
‘Shall I make us a tea?’ Tanya says, giving my hand a squeeze.
I nod. ‘I need to finish making this, though.’
Penny shakes her head. ‘Youcome before work, Annie. And right now, you need a cup of tea.’
Tanya gets to her feet. ‘And there’s a new series ofCome Dine with Me.’
‘Come on.’ Penny stands up, holding her hand out. ‘Work and big life decisions can wait. Dinner can’t.’
I let her pull me to my feet and we both walk into the living room. Tanya brings us tea and Penny serves us her homemade spaghetti bolognese as we curl up on the sofa, which is too small for the three of us but we make it work. We sit under a blanket and watchCome Dine with Me. As I sit there, all I want to do is reach out and fold this moment into a bottle so I can keep it forever.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Nate
I smile at Remy as he places two pint glasses down in front of us. I’ve gone back to Hopping Hare. Its light, biscuity taste bounces around on my tongue and warms the inside of my cheeks. I’ve tried the lagers, I’ve tried the Guinness, I’ve tried all the ales (or, at least, I’ve tried all the ales they have to offer at the Old Queen’s Head), and this is the best one.
Remy holds his pint glass up to me and we clink them together.
Remy’s wearing his Fred Perry bomber jacket, zipped up to the base of his neck, and faded blue jeans. As always, his grey flat cap is firmly on his head and his salt and pepper stubbly beard is manicured so that it outlines his mouth in a perfect square.
It’s Saturday afternoon. The rest of the week dragged by in a horrible, weird blur. I went to work, I sat at my desk, I came home. I’ve spoken to Mom and Dad every day. Everything has ticked by, just like life always has done. Just fine. Just like my life was before I met Annie. Before we were walking round the streets of her hometown together, laughingwith her parents, dancing in that shitty club in Clapham. Before she vanished into thin air.
I push the feelings down. There is no point reliving it. I can’t get it back. She’s gone, and I’ll never know why.
I haven’t heard from Aunt Tell, not that I was expecting to. She ignored me for weeks before I forced myself into her life – why wouldn’t she ignore me again?
‘So,’ Remy says, after a few minutes of silence as we both stare up at the flickering television screen. ‘Why did you need to see me, then?’
‘Can’t I just want a pint with you?’
‘Sure.’ Remy cocks his head. ‘But that’s not why you called me, is it?’
I take a sip of my pint. Today, the pub is peppered with people. Some of the regulars are propped up at the bar, clusters of families and friends are tucking into cooked lunches and a few children are squabbling over a teetering tower of Jenga. There isn’t any football on today (or ‘important football’, in the words of Remy), so the pub is quieter than usual.
‘Well, first of all, I need to talk to you about my aunt.’ I give him a questioning look and he grins into his pint.
