***
We walk down the passport office steps together, hand in hand, on the thirtieth of December. Amy clutches the little blue book between her fingers.
“I still can’t believe you managed to arrange this,” she mutters. “Who you know really does matter.”
I peep at her and raise my eyebrow. “Sometimes it helps,” I say, non-committal.
What I don’t want to tell her is I paid the manager handsomely for going against protocol and jumping her up the queue. At first, I’d been told to wait until the new year like everyone else.Who you know can help, but money tends to get results. It’s something I’ve grown accustomed to.
“Shall we get a coffee? Maybe a slice of cake?”
“Cake?” she squeals. “Ivan, I have a competition tomorrow. At your gym, unless that’s slipped your mind?”
I shrug.
“My abs will disappear below the bloat if I eat cake today.”
“Okay, you drink water, and I’ll have cake as I won’t be prancing about in my underwear tomorrow.”
“Perhaps you could do that for me after the event?” she says with a wink. “You’d look completely fuckable in a string bikini.”
I laugh and shake my head. The bubbly Amy I’ve come to adore is starting to reappear as her anxiety recedes. Lance has been keeping us updated on Katie’s condition. She’s still unconscious but improving. The doctors are more confident she will make a full recovery.
“I’m slightly concerned about your bedroom kinks, if me in a posing bikini tickles your fancy,” I tell her. “Come on, let’s get a drink. Worry about the competition later. It’s the holidays.”
I grab her hand and tug her toward a small coffee shop across the street. The windows are fogged from heaters inside, twinkling fairy lights pressed against the glass. The small room is packed with old pine tables and chairs. Most are set for two people. We find a free one at the back.
London has embraced the festive season in all its glory, providing us with snow on the ground and plenty of ice to slip on.
We unwrap ourselves from our heavy coats, throwing them over the backs of our chairs. Amy slides her delicate hands from her wool gloves and places the discarded garments on the table beside her. She smiles softly, her fingers twisting together.
She looks nervous. The kind of nervous that makes her sneak a look at me when she thinks I’m not watching.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to New York?” I ask again.
“No,” she replies. “Lance is there. He will let us know if anything changes. He won’t leave until she wakes up. I hope she does the right thing this time and gives him a chance. He adores her.”
“I’m sure she’ll do what she thinks is right when the time comes.”
“That’s the problem.” She sighs. “She was so busy thinking about what everyone else’s opinion was of their relationship, she threw away the best thing that’s ever happened to her. People can be so stupid sometimes.”
I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or to herself. I place my hand over hers.
She looks up, apologetic. “Sorry, I’m being miserable.”
“It’s completely understandable,” I tell her. “Katie’s going to be fine. The right person is by her side. You have your passport, so you can go whenever you want to. Everything is on the mend.”
“What about Thailand?” she asks, surprising me.
“Thailand will still be there in a few weeks or months. If you still want to go.”
“Can we go on the fourth of January like you planned?”
I’m taken aback. My heart rate spikes in quiet excitement. I’d assumed she’d want to stay home.
“Of course, if you want to, we can.”
“Good, I want to,” she says. “I promised Bex and Katie that I would live my life and stop obsessing over the future. Going to Thailand with you is me doing that. We don’t know where this is going, but I want to enjoy every moment of it before it ends.”
