Would I even consider moving, if it came to it? Truthfully, I don’t know if I would.
I love my town. I love this old, drafty cottage I saved up for and bought last year. I love the impractically small doorframes, wooden beams, and original fireplaces in each and every room. I’ve never imagined my life unfolding anywhere else but here in Lambley.
But maybe Georgia has? Maybe she’d rather like to get out of her apartment with the broken dryer and shoe-view window.
There is a strong likelihood I’m getting way ahead of myself, as I so often do. Even still, I let my tired mind wander until I find myself drifting between sleep and thought with a quiet hopefulness stirring in my chest.
Lena has been lecturing me about love, and most other things, for as long as I can remember. My older sister is convinced that we all get one great love in our lifetime. She believes in fate, that who we will fall for is predetermined by the universe, far out of our control. So, I’m set on finding theone, as ridiculous as it may be. Stubbornly, I’ve beenunwilling to settle. It’s why, no matter how difficult it was at the time, I ended things with my ex three years ago. I knew in my heart of hearts that she wasn’t that destined person for me. That she deserved to find that life-altering, course-correcting sort of love for herself too.
And maybe it’s daft to even think it, but I cannot help but wonder if Georgia could be that person for me.
Daft or not, it’s the thought I hold on to as I fall asleep.
Chapter Five: Callum
Three weeks later
Is this the man of the hour?” Graham says, dropping onto the sofa next to Lena with such gusto that she nearly bounces off it. I look at the small rectangle in the corner of our video call, and begin tugging at my hair once again. “How’s he doing?” he whispers to Lena, loud enough for me to hear.
“He won’t quit messing with his hair,” Lena answers.
“Lucky, you look great,” Graham says reassuringly. “But let’s leave the hair alone now, yeah?”
I drop my hand into my lap with a clipped sigh, looking at the bouquet of flowers on the bench next to me. Are the flowers too much? Perhaps not enough?
“What time did you say her train gets in?” Lena asks, moving the phone momentarily closer to her face as she adjusts her sitting position.
“Half past.” I check my watch, then swallow. In a few short minutes, Georgia Anderson will step onto the platform at Nottingham station. I wasn’t nervous until this morning, but now nervousness is all I seem to consist of. If I pricked my finger on one of these roses’ thorns, I doubt I’d even bleed.I think a million and one thoughts would flow out of me instead.
Up until she left for England last weekend, Georgia and I have spent every night on the phone together. And every night without fail, we’ve broken the curfew she insisted we set.
If a mate had come to me, a few months back, and said they’ve fallen in love with someone they’ve never met in real life, I’d have insisted on checking them for signs of a concussion. And yet, here I am, heart in hand, waiting for the woman who’s consumed my every thought for the past month to get off her train.
“Why do you look as if you’re going to shit yourself?” Lena asks, laughing. “This is Georgia! Your Georgia. Relax!”
“Okay, easy for you to say,” Graham speaks up on my behalf as I watch a train leave from the next platform over. “But, tell me, Lucky, what exactly are you feeling at this moment? What do you think Martha would say to you right now, if she could? And, lastly, could you describe your outfit for me?”
I look at my phone, watching as my brother looks expectantly at the screen, pen and paper in hand. “This isn’t going in your article, Graham.”
“Are you kidding me, man?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Thisisthe article now. This is pure gold.”
“He’s wearing a knitted green jumper and dark-blue jeans,” Lena whispers, tapping his notebook. “I picked it out for him.”
“Hey!” I say, glaring at her. “Don’t put that part in,” I tell Graham, turning my gaze.
“I won’t, if you answer my other questions.”
I sigh, checking my watch again. She’ll be here any minute now. “I, uh, I feel nervous ...”
“Elaborate, please? Use that big brain of yours.”
“I ... I don’t know. I guess, well, I’m scared that what we have won’t work in person. That the chemistry won’t be there. Or, I won’t feel as comfortable. I’m worried that she won’t be attracted to me or that I’ll make a bad first impression.”
“Good, that’s all really good,” Graham says, not looking up from his page.
I stare at the phone blankly, raising one brow. “I’m gladyouthink so ...”
“Keep going.” He gestures with the pencil, moving it in a circular motion.
