Page 190 of Falling for You
‘It’s not shit!’
Her back cracks again and she lets out a groan before dropping back into her seat. ‘Are you happy now? I’ve had a stretch. I’m fine.’
‘Oh,’ I say, catching sight of my swollen rucksack. ‘Before I forget … I’ve got a surprise for you. Close your eyes and put your hands out.’
‘Why?’ She eyes me suspiciously.
‘Just do it,’ I say. ‘Please.’
Pam rolls her eyes but she does comply, holding one limp hand in my direction. I unzip my rucksack and pull out a scarf. It’s one I’ve been working on for a few weeks.It’s knitted with four different shades of green wool that I found at a charity shop, along with an amber thread from the bottom of my sewing kit. I place the scarf in her hands and Pam smiles as soon as she feels it.
‘Can I open my eyes now?’
‘You can.’
Pam opens her eyes and her face lights up. She sits back in her chair so she can hold the scarf with both hands, running it through her fingers before winding it round her neck. ‘Oh, it’s lovely. So soft. You’re very talented, Annie.’
I feel a warm glow. ‘It was nothing.’
I really struck gold when I stumbled across her job advert all those years ago. Pam swears a lot, she doesn’t like small talk and she refuses to go to the pantomime with me every Christmas, but she’s my biggest fan. I could knit her an all-in-one sleepsuit for the summer and she’d wear it, even if it meant drowning in her own sweat.
I go back to my desk and, to my annoyance, feel myself glance expectantly down at my phone. It stares back up at me, motionless. Like the arrogant little shit it is.
Oh my God, this is going to drive meinsane.
‘Right,’ Pam says, getting to her feet. ‘Annie, I’m going to go and meet a client for lunch. Can you man the phones for an hour or so?’
‘Sure,’ I say at once. ‘Of course.’
I wiggle my mouse again to bring my laptop back to life when, next to me, my phone vibrates. I almost fall off my seat.
It’s Nate. He’s finally messaged me.
I scrabble to open it, adrenaline flying through my veins. As I read the text, my heart sinks and I feel a cold wash all over my body.
Right. Well, that’s that, then.
It’s over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Nate
I stare at my phone. It stares back at me silently. I’d been waiting for it to ring for hours, and then for the last forty minutes I’ve been sat, simply watching the blank screen.
After my date with Annie, I spent hours floating around like I was walking on air. Finally, London seemed a bit brighter. I started being able to see the London that I’d watched on TV all those years. I saw the smiling people, the couples kissing, the Christmas lights twinkling. I even laughed when a red bus skirted past me and splattered rainwater up my legs. I loved it here! I’d never had a feeling like this in New York. I don’t know if I’ve experienced this feeling in my entire life.
The morning after our date, I woke up to find Stevie knocking at my door with a paper cup of coffee. For the first time since I’d moved in, he was here to wake me up and help nurse my hangover. He perched on the end of my bed and made me recount all the details about the date, who Bat Girl really was and how things were left. When I told him I got her number, he insisted that I had to wait two days to message her. Apparently, that was the unwritten rule of datingLondoners. Any earlier and I’d give her ‘the ick’. If I hadn’t given her the ick by my dancing, he added unnecessarily.
Needless to say, I wanted to message her right away. I wanted to knock on her door and take her out for breakfast. Ask her where else weird and wonderful she could take me in London, what other stories she had, what other costumes she was planning to make. I wanted to know absolutely everything about her. But I took Stevie’s advice. He knew much more about dating than I did as he had far more experience (I came back with that one which, annoyingly, he took as a compliment).
I spent two solid days in my bubble. Work didn’t even feel that bad. Hell, I laughed when Brian showed me the new batch of people who had written in for the Miss Cinderella story. I told him I’d been on a date with Jane, which seemed to be dull enough to satisfy his appetite for gossip, and let him decide that perhaps I was better writing about the latest exhibitions in the London museums. Which was fine by me – I thought maybe I could take Annie with me. I hopped, skipped and jumped around London. I felt ten pounds lighter.
And then I woke up this morning to one, singular word on my phone and it was enough to make my blood turn to ice.
Help.
It was from Mom. She sent it at four in the morning, which would have been late at night for them. I called her as soon as I saw it, but she didn’t answer. Then I called Dad; he didn’t answer either. The sensible part of my brain triedto tell me that it was late for them; the reason they weren’t answering was because they were sound asleep, tucked up in their pine bed and floral bedcovers. But the ugly, irrational side of my brain sucked the silence of the morning up like gasoline.
