Fairytale of New York (32 page)

Anya’s blue eyes filled with tears, which began to spill freely over her pale pink cheeks. ‘There must be something we can do to repay your kindness?’

Marnie arrived back at my side and presented Anya with the bouquet.

‘Just be happy,’ I replied, feeling a thick lump of emotion building in my throat, ‘and tell people that you know a great florist.’

‘Absolutely. Do you have some cards?’ Jimmy took a handful from Marnie. ‘Well—thank you, thank you both so much!’

Marnie and I watched Jimmy and Anya leave, ridiculous smiles spreading across our faces.

‘How
adorable
were they?’ Marnie sighed. ‘And how happy?’

‘Mmm, I know,’ I replied, shocked to feel a sudden wave of sadness washing over me.

‘One day, Rosie, that will be me and you.’

‘What, getting married at City Hall? Sorry, hon, you’re not my type.’

Marnie gave my arm a playful punch. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’

‘Well, maybe for you and Zac the Fit Guy, eh?’ I smiled, desperate to deflect attention from me. It didn’t work, of course: even Marnie in her newly loved-up state, could see what I was doing.

‘For
both
of us, Rosie. We
have
to believe that kind of love is possible.’

‘We do?’

‘Absolutely. Or else, what is there to hope for?’

For once, I had no clever answer for that.

Life at Kowalski’s quickly returned to normal, albeit with Marnie decidedly happier than I’d ever seen her and Ed increasingly tight-lipped about his Specific Someone.

Much to Celia’s relief, I attended her much-publicised ‘coming out’ dinner to officially witness the unveiling of her
new relationship. She needn’t have worried, of course:
everyone
at the paper knew exactly what was going on—an occupational hazard of working with journalists, I guess. Stewart was as strikingly good-looking and utterly besotted with Celia as the last time I’d seen him, while Celia was surprisingly restrained—
peaceful
even. It was good, if a little disconcerting, to see my best friend so in love.

The following week, with almost a whole month until the next wedding on our books, I allowed myself a rare opportunity to relax, taking a day off midweek—an occurrence akin to the passing of Halley’s Comet as far as my astounded team was concerned—in order to catch up on some much-needed rest. After indulging in the sheer unadulterated luxury of a Wednesday morning lie-in, I met Celia for lunch at her favourite restaurant on the sixteenth floor of a building directly overlooking Central Park.

‘So, how’s the toyboy?’ I joked, giggling as Celia squirmed in her chair.

‘Stewart is just
fine,
thank you very much,’ she replied, blushing slightly behind her foundation. Her coyness didn’t last long, however: less than twenty seconds later her careful composure disintegrated and she clamped a hand to her heart like a lovesick sixteen-year-old. ‘Oh Rosie, I’m telling you, that man is just the
sweetest
thing! Did you know he’s taking me to the Orchid Show at the New York Botanical Gardens next weekend? I’ve read about it every year since they started it but I’ve never got round to going. So he’s taking me. He said he wanted to “surround the most beautiful woman in New York with her favourite flower”, would you
believe
it?’

‘It’s so good to see you excited about him,’ I smiled, pushing away the sliver of jealousy that was surreptitiously snaking itself around my heart. ‘He’s a lovely young man.’

‘I know! I worry that he’s too young, sometimes.’

‘Celia, don’t be ridiculous! He
adores
you and it’s clear that you’re very fond of him.’

‘It’s more than that, sweetie, I…Oh, what the
heck
—I’m
in love
with the guy! I’m like a kid again with it. After Jerry I didn’t think there’d be anyone else, so I’m stunned by the whole thing. I guess I’ll just have to get used to being the older woman, that’s all—although I have absolutely no intention of becoming the responsible one in our relationship. But then Stewart is a bit of an old head on young shoulders, so I guess it all evens out.’

I lifted my wineglass. ‘Here’s to toyboys and growing old disgracefully!’

‘I’ll drink to that!’ Celia clinked my glass and took a large sip of wine as the Queen of the Subject Change geared up for another handbrake turn. ‘So, your conversation with Nate at David’s wedding: what
exactly
did he say about those flowers?’

‘That’s just it: he didn’t get the chance to say anything. Mimi interrupted him just as he was about to tell me.’

Celia’s eyes rolled heavenwards. ‘That
woman,’
she growled, thumping her hand on the table, startling the neighbouring diners, ‘she manages to get in the way of everything!’

I sighed and looked out at the spring green of the Park below. ‘I don’t know, mate. After all the stuff with David the night before, I don’t think I could have coped with any more revelations.’

‘But you
like
Nate, don’t you?’

‘Yes, of course I do. But he’s engaged to someone else and, despite his occasional protestations to the contrary, I think he may actually be in love with Caitlin after all.’

Celia pulled a face and took a long, thoughtful sip of her white wine. ‘If he likes you, he should deal with that situation once and for all. I’ve never met anyone so laid-back in my life.
One day, Nate is going to wake up and realise his whole life has happened already. It’s about time he took control. So,’ she stared seriously at me, ‘supposing he
did
let Caitlin go, and
supposing
he was free…Would you want to be with him?’

‘I—it’s complicated.’

Celia let out a cry of frustration. ‘It’s
always
complicated, Rosie! Welcome to life in general. You just put that to one side and career headlong into the abyss.’

‘Oh, well, when you put it like
that
…’ I laughed.

‘Rosie Duncan, you are a cruel, cruel woman.’

‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. This whole situation with Nate has been blowing hot and cold for months. Most of that time, I didn’t really think about it because I was so against the thought of someone else in my life.’

Her eyes twinkled conspiratorially. ‘And now?’

‘Now I’m not sure. Nate is wonderful and I like him a lot. It’s just…I don’t know if I need someone a little more decisive, you know? And then there’s Ed.’

I could tell my friend was confused. ‘What about Ed?’

‘He’s just been different the past few months. More elusive than usual.’

‘The Iceberg Man is
more
elusive?’

‘I don’t know, he says he’s met someone.’

Her eyebrow made a bid for the skies. ‘And that’s a bad thing?’

‘I’m not sure. No, no, of course it’s not a bad thing. It’s just that—I guess I feel like he’s leaving me behind. And Marnie, too.’

Celia shook her head. ‘Marnie’s leaving?’

‘No, not leaving. Moving on—she’s going out with Zac.’

‘Wait,’ Celia’s eyes were sparkling. ‘Tell me it’s not true: she finally hooked up with Zac the Fit Guy?’

I grinned. ‘The very same.’

‘When?’

‘About a month ago. Ed and I witnessed the whole thing.’

‘That is so good. He’ll be good for her.’

I nodded, twisting the stem of my wineglass absent-mindedly.

Celia caught the hesitation immediately. ‘So what’s the problem?’

‘There’s no problem, honestly. It’s just…’ I sighed and looked at my friend. ‘Everyone’s moving on apart from me. Or at least that’s what it feels like.’

Celia’s concerned smile was one hundred per cent genuine. ‘Sweetie, that’s
life.
We move on, we find love—sometimes we lose love and have to find it again. It’s all part of life’s rich tapestry. But as for you, you have to decide what you want, Rosie. Not what Ed wants, or Nate, or David—but
you.
You’ve hidden your heart so carefully for such a long time; it’s only natural that it’s a little rusty. But you’ll get the hang of it. You just need a little faith and a huge dose of that hope you’re so famous for. So tell me again: what did Nate say?’

‘He said he’d be in touch.’

Celia shrugged. ‘Then you must wait until he does.’

I didn’t have to wait long.

When I arrived home, something was waiting for me by my front door. Stooping down, I picked up a small woven basket of flowers and took it into my apartment. Nestled amidst the yellow roses was a card:

Meet me for coffee at Kowalski’s, 8 p.m. xx

Turning the card over, I saw the shop stamp—Turner’s—and my heart began turning cartwheels inside me: it was the
same florists that had created my Christmas arrangement.
It had to be Nate.
This was his way of arranging a time for us to meet—and where better than my beloved shop, scene of so many of our meetings during the past year? Ed must be opening the shop for him: maybe this was what they’d been discussing when they had met up: how Nate felt about me…After all, I reasoned, who knew me better than Ed? Despite my reluctance to admit it most of the time, Ed knew me in ways other people could only aspire to. He understood me: sometimes challenging but mostly accepting who I was; always there, always ready to talk. Even during the past few months, when I’d sensed him drifting slightly, he’d been as supportive of me as ever, and I loved that we had that kind of friendship. My mum often says that finding a true friend—one who knows who you are and loves you anyway—is more valuable than all the gold in all the banks in the world. And she is right. Ed had endured every rollercoaster twist and turn of my life along with me in recent months. And now he was still fighting my corner: making it possible for Nate to move closer to me. Amazing. I only hoped that, when he finally mustered up the courage to talk to his Specific Someone, she would realise what a special guy he was.

I can’t remember getting ready that evening. My thoughts were everywhere and nowhere at once; vying for attention as I looked on, helpless to stop the tumult inside me. Nate had seemed so certain that staying with Caitlin was the right thing before—and I had reconciled myself to the fact that we were just two people who could have been together if circumstances were different. Everyone has their ‘What If’ relationships, where you know someone could be The One if only life had dealt you a different hand. I’d just assumed that Nate was mine: we would always remain friends and that undeniable chemistry would always be there; and maybe, in the quiet,
secret moments of our lives, we would muse over how things could have been different, wondering how life would have been had we met each other at the right time.

Even as I left my apartment and walked quickly through the streets of New York, I felt a pull inside me; terror and hope holding hands to sprint into the bright unknown of my future. So much had changed recently that I simply stopped trying to understand it and, for the very first time in my life, gave in to my circumstances and just went with the flow. I was turning in circles no longer: gone was the perpetual cycle of memories and hurt. Now, the city smiled at me as I trod quickly on its sidewalks, heading for uncertainty with hope fuelling each step. Mr Kowalski’s words rang out in my head as I walked: ‘…
when that day arrives, Rosie, choose to
live.’

I reached Kowalski’s at eight exactly, pausing by the door to calm my thundering heart.
This is it, Rosie Duncan,
I told myself.
Beyond this point lies the future.
Hope coursing like quicksilver through my veins, I opened the door.

As the silver bell heralded my arrival, I caught my breath. The interior of the store had been transformed by hundreds of tiny white lights, framing the galvanised steel flower buckets, windows, couch and ceiling. It was as if a myriad of stars had fallen from the heavens and made their home at Kowalski’s. Even Old F, bubbling happily and warming the entire space with the aroma of his finest coffee, was resplendent in fairy lights.

‘Hello?’ I called out, my voice shaking with sheer breathless emotion.

The workroom door opened and a figure stepped in front of the counter, his features thrown into shadow by the blanket of stars behind him.

‘Welcome to Kowalski’s.’

Ed took a step forward, light from the streetlamp outside illuminating his features. ‘Hi Rosie.’

I froze. ‘Ed? What are you doing here?’

‘Waiting for you.’

‘Did Nate send you?’

‘In a way, yes.’

‘Where is he?’

Ed frowned. ‘I have no idea.’

I struggled for words. ‘But—the flowers?’

He shrugged self-consciously. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I couldn’t create something myself—you’d have rumbled me straight away—so I chose Turner’s. They’re new, so I was pretty certain you wouldn’t have heard of them. At Christmas it was a kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, you know? I wanted to give you something but I didn’t know whether I was ready for you to know—uh—what was going on.’

‘But—but I thought they were—’

‘From Nate? Yeah, I realised that the moment you told Marnie and me about it. That’s why he made a reference to them at the wedding—he was going to explain who sent them. You have him to thank for my being here, actually. You’re all we talked about when we met up. He told me he had feelings
for you, but he said he knew your heart belonged to someone else. So, we planned all this and he set the wheels in motion when he spoke to you.’

‘You did this—to deceive me?’ I could feel my defences building.

Ed’s face fell. ‘No, Rosie, never to deceive you.’

Tears stung my eyes. How
dare
Ed play games with me, after everything he’d seen me go through? The last thing I needed was to be yet another name on his never-ending list of dates—another fleeting past-time to divert his attention. Incensed, I turned on my heels and made for the door. ‘Goodbye.’

‘I love you!’

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. So there I stood, my hand still gripping the door handle, my heart in my mouth and my breath coming in short, sharp bursts as I fought back tears.

‘I love you, Rosie Duncan.’ His voice was soft and low, barely more than a whisper. ‘I’ve loved you from the first moment we met and I haven’t stopped loving you every day since. For so long I hid it—pretty well, it would seem—and I thought it would always be that way. But then—then I woke up one morning and I realised: I
love you
more than I’ve ever loved anyone before. And it’s hard for me to admit it, because it means I’m not the cool, in-control guy I like to think I am. It means I must finally concede defeat in the self-sufficiency stakes. It means I have to bare my own heart, and risk it being thrown back in my face. But there’s one thing I’m certain of: I love you, Rosie, with a love that sets me on fire each day and keeps me awake at night. So here I am: a melting iceberg in the middle of Kowalski’s.’

Tentatively, I let go of the door handle and faced him. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling quickly in the streetlamp spotlight. Moving closer I could see the battle within him painting his face.

‘Ed, I had no idea…’

‘No, well, you wouldn’t. I am the master of clever side-steps, remember?’ A tear glistened in the glow of the fairy lights as it travelled smoothly over the contours of his face, leaving a silver streak marking his cheek. He brushed it away with an irritated swipe of his hand. ‘I’m sorry. Whoever thought the great Ed Steinmann was such a sap?’

‘So why did you decide to tell me now?’

Sadness coloured his eyes as he smiled. ‘Believe it or not, I was following the advice of a good friend.’

‘Nate?’

‘You.’

‘Me?’

‘You said it, Rosie: unless I tell her, I’ll never find out if she feels the same way.’

‘Then
I’m
the Specific Someone?’

‘Yes, you are.’

And there it was. Such a simple sentence, yet the brevity of it hit me with hurricane force. For months Ed’s mention of his Specific Someone had rankled with me inexplicably; I’d dismissed it as envy at a friend moving on. But the truth was, I was
jealous
—not of Ed falling in love, but of the woman who had stolen his heart. When he appeared to be drifting from me, the reason it hurt so much was that it seemed to confirm how much he didn’t want me. And even walking here tonight, when I thought I was thinking about Nate, Ed was the one who, in fact, claimed most of my thoughts. It was
his
opinion of me I cared most for;
his
support and time I valued more than anyone’s;
his
friendship I most covetously guarded.

It was time to face the truth.

Stepping forward bravely, I reached out my hand and, with trembling fingers, stroked the tears from his cheek. I felt his
arms around me, pulling me closer, felt his breath brushing my face like a warm summer breeze.

‘I want to love you, Rosie. I want to show you how love
should
be and let you melt me completely. And every hurt, every wound your heart has suffered over the years, I want to heal with my kisses, every day, for ever.’

‘Oh, Ed…’

New York froze around us as his lips met mine—a hundred million questions answered in a single heartbeat. At that moment, Ed became everything: hands and lips, bodies and breath, hearts and souls. I lost myself in his embrace, the warmth of his love enveloping me like a blanket. And I
knew.
I knew I was home.

When we finally broke apart, I gazed into his eyes and I saw Ed Steinmann for the very first time.

I saw a man who looked like he was in love…

This city is not mine by birthright: yet New York chose to make me belong. It has soothed my pain, reignited my dreams and resurrected my hope. Deep within its vibrant heart, I found my own. And this is where my heart will stay for ever.