Page 103 of One More Day
I lean across to flick the tunes when the steering wheel tugs to the side, so I hold it firmly, but it pulls again.
‘Oh no. Oh, please no.’
I slow down. I let out a long breath. The snow is pelting down outside so this is the very last thing I need.
‘Jeez, Max, is this my unlucky day or what?’ I say out loud, but Max is chilling in the back seat, totally oblivious to my dilemma. I indicate left and snail along until I find a safe place to stop. We’re just on the edge of the County Donegal border, not even an hour into our journey home, when I pull over and discover it’s exactly what I thought it was.
A flat tyre.
Wonderful. This day keeps getting better and better.
The morning rain has given way to another snowfall, meaning the weatherman was right for a change. It looks like we’re in for a white Christmas, which will certainly make Helena happy. She doesn’t believe it’s really Christmas if it doesn’t snow.
I push the button for the hazard lights, pull my coat on and shuffle around to the back of the car where I fish a large golf umbrella from the boot, swearing to myself at the inconvenience of all this, especially in such horrible weather. I tug out the spare tyre from the boot.
‘Just my luck for this to happen to me now,’ I mutter as a car pulls into the lay-by beside me. The lights make me squint and when the kind stranger gets out, I don’t get a chance to speak before she does.
‘Can I help?’
I almost bang my head on the open boot at the sound of her voice.
‘Not a good day for car trouble,’ she says, ‘but then, there’s never a good day for car trouble, is there?’
I turn to face her, unable to disguise the wide grin on my face.
‘I think I got it just in time,’ I say, slamming the boot down with one hand and balancing the huge golf umbrella in the other. ‘My tyre needs changing.’
I look her in the eye as she blinks back snowdrops that fall from her eyelashes onto her cheeks.
‘You’ve got it all under control, then.’
‘I have,’ I reply with a coy smile. I walk towards her. ‘You thought I needed help to fix a car because I’m a man, didn’t you? What fooled you? Was it the—’
‘Lipstick or the heeled boots?’ we both say together, remembering our very first encounter. It seems so long ago.
‘I’m really sorry for leaving in such a cruel way, Charlie,’ she says. ‘I imagine you’re very angry with me, but I was so, so confused. I felt so guilty about how I’ve been falling for you, but now I realise I don’t need to jump to conclusions about how I should feel or how others expect me to feel or what others think of me. Thoughts are just thoughts.’
I can’t hide the smile on my face, nor can I control the warmth in my heart right now, even if we’re standing in a flurry of snow on the side of a busy road. Rose is wearing the same blue coat again. Minus the oil stain, thankfully.
‘I must have just missed you at the cottage before you left so I took a guess that you’d be heading home to Belfast, but I don’t blame you if you never want to see me again.’
She is within touching distance now and all I want to do is hold her close to me. I can’t think of anything I want more than to feel her body against mine.
‘How are you feeling?’ I ask, moving inches closer.
‘I’m much better,’ she tells me with a whisper. ‘It hasn’t even been a day yet and I’ve missed you. I’m sorry.’
‘I’ve missed you too, Rose,’ I say, gently touching the side of her face. Her lips move towards mine and her kiss warms me from the inside out.
This time there is no one and nothing in the world that could interrupt us. No guilt, no shame, no grief, no pain. Just us.
‘So … should we do this Christmas thing together then, after all?’ I ask as I kiss her forehead, then lighter butterfly kisses on her neck that make her eyes fall closed. I return to her lips and we kiss with more passion this time.
A blaring horn sounds from a passing truck and the driver shouts, ‘Get some mistletoe, lovers,’ which makes us smile and hold each other even closer.
‘I think we should do this Christmas thing together,’ she says. ‘Thank you for forgiving me.’
‘Thank you for following me.’
