Page 83 of Falling for You
‘Tell me what the fantasy is.’ She grins at me. ‘I want to know what your perfect British life would be and how realistic it actually is. You do know that we don’t all have magic umbrellas or eat marmalade sandwiches?’
‘I hope not,’ I say, giving her a look. ‘Marmalade is disgusting.’ She laughs and I scan along the street. At the end, there’s a house set further back than the others. It has a small garden path with stones leading the way like lily pads up to the cottage made of warm, golden stone, and strings of ivy weaving around towards the uneven tiled roof. It looks just like theHolidayhouse.
‘This,’ I say, nodding towards the house. ‘I’d live somewhere like this. I’d be happy—’
‘And in love?’
I feel a warm glow in my chest. ‘Of course. Isn’t life a bit better when you’re in love?’
Annie snorts and I look round at her. ‘Sorry,’ she says, trying to hide her smile. ‘I just don’t know if I can deal with how cheesy you are. You’re like a cartoon character.’
‘Maybe I’m just saying what everyone else is too cool to say.’ I raise my eyebrows at her and she cocks her head.
‘Go on, then,’ she says. ‘What’s in this house? A wife?’
‘Yup,’ I nod, pushing my face further into my scarf. ‘Some kids. A big study filled with books.’
‘Sounds nice. A sewing machine?’
I smile. ‘Yeah, of course. A whole room full of clothes and fabrics and … needles. I don’t know, whatever you need to sew.’
She laughs. ‘A fire?’
‘Definitely, and a big dining table.’
‘And a cat?’
‘No.’ I scrunch up my face. ‘A dog.’
‘Ah.’ She kicks a patch of snow and pulls a face of mock disappointment. ‘You’ve lost me there, I’m afraid.’
‘Who said you were invited?’ I tease.
‘Wasn’t I?’ She gives me a knowing look.
I smile and shake my head. ‘I think you belong there with me. Who else will keep the room with the sewing machine alive?’
She nods and points over a small bridge. ‘My parents’ house is just over here.’
I smile, tucking my hands into my pockets.
What I don’t say is: who else would I be in love with?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Annie
Oh God, I can’t believe I’m about to do this.
Afteryearsof hints, drunken questions and downright blackmail (if you get married before I turn sixty, I’ll get Dad to pay for a bar. Please, Annie. I just want to look nice in the pictures!), I am willingly bringing a man home for them to meet.
And not only that, I’m doing it with absolutely no warning. Not only have I not told my parents that I’m bringing Nate round; I haven’t even told them that heexists.
I did debate calling them once me and Nate started walking home, but I knew that no matter how much notice I gave them, it wouldn’t be enough to stop Mum fromexplodingwith adrenaline. So I thought the best bet was not to say anything and let them find out when Nate appeared on their doorstep. At least then Mum might behave herself a bit more. I hope.
I’d planned on being annoyed at Nate for the rest of my days. I was ready to write off our amazing date as a weird one-off, never-to-happen-again experience. Like a spontaneous night out with your friends that was amazing, but you know you could never recreate it so everyone just promises to never try.
But then he was right there, standing in front of me. I was angry at first but it just faded away, and after sixty seconds of us talking I was back in Infernos, laughing opposite him as we danced like we were the only two people in the club. It felt impossible to stay angry with him, unnatural even. Like something inside me was going:no, this isn’t the right feeling to have with him. It’s not anger, it’s something else. It’s something better.
