I will. In a minute.
I can tell, even through the skin of my eyelids, that it’s well after dawn. Stretching, I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling. A white paper lampshade hangs from the ceiling above the bed. I instantly know exactly where I am – and that fills me in onwhenI am too.
This is the bedroom of the flat we rented after we got married, which means, as I guessed it might, that today is not the day following our wedding, but our first anniversary. I don’t know if this is where I was when I woke in the night and plotted escape, but it’s where I am now.
I check the clock on the bedside table, my eyes widen, and I elbow Luke softly in the back. ‘Luke!’
‘Mmpff … What?’ he mumbles, rolling over to hide his head in the pillow.
‘It’s past nine,’ I whisper, although I don’t know why I’m keeping my voice down. There’s no one else here. ‘You’ll be late for work!’ I lost count of the number of times he slept through the alarm before he got his smart watch. And I still don’t get how the annoying chiming of his phone did a worse job of rousing him than a soft buzz on the wrist, but he hardly ever needs me to elbow him out of slumber anymore.
The mattress bounces and he’s halfway across the room towards his wardrobe when I hear him stop. A second later, the mattress dips again as he throws himself back down on it and scoots in to spoon behind me. ‘Nice try,’ he chuckles. ‘It’s Sunday.’ And then he sighs. ‘How many times am I going to fall for that one?’
Oh, of course it is! Even so, I smile to myself. I did love to tease him back in the day. The strange thing is, I didn’t realize I’d stopped playing silly jokes on him back in our real life until now. It always feels as if it might hit wrong, and then he might get upset with me. But even though I’ve just woken my husband up, he doesn’t seem to be irritated at all. In fact, quite the opposite.
His lips find the tingly spot behind my right ear. Heat floods me instantly. And the ache inside shifts lower, becomes greedy.
‘Good morning, Mrs Harris,’ he says, his voice rough in my ear.
I don’t speak as I roll over to face him. We don’t need words. I don’t need to be in my head for this. All I need is for him to keep touching me the way he is right now, to make my brain stop and my body come alive and, just for a precious while, I can let whatever thoughts that are in my head evaporate and I can forget.
The next time I wake up, I’m second-guessing myself. I roll over to find the bed empty beside me. A radio is playing somewhere else in the flat, probably the kitchen. I flop over onto my back and cover my eyes with one hand. What am I doing?
As lovely as the last twelve hours or so have been. It’s not real life. This isn’t even the real us. Not anymore. It’s just an echo. I can’t let myself get swept up in it, can I? Because if things keep going the way they’ve been going for the last four days, I’ve got less than two weeks before I arrive back on our tenth anniversary and Luke works out I’m not what he wants anymore and he’s gone. I need to start having some self-control. I need to start protecting myself a bit more, because—
My train of though is interrupted by the door opening. Luke comes in, backside first, as he obviously used it to bump the door open, holding a tray. Grinning, he circuits the bed and puts it proudly down in front of me. ‘Blueberry and banana pancakes,’ he says proudly.
I take in the misshapen offerings, some slightly singed, all bleeding purple juice from the plump blueberries dotted through them. A bowl of thick Greek yoghurt is on the side, as well as a bottle of maple syrup and a steaming cup of tea. And then I notice the card propped up against a small glass vase filled with blousy flowers – but not just any flowers, they look as if they’ve been exquisitely crafted from the pages of old books. ‘Luke … ’ I say, my voice thick, as I place a palm on my chest.
‘It’s our paper anniversary,’ he explains.
‘It is?’
He nods. ‘Every year has a material attached to it. I looked it up. And I know we don’t have a lot in the bank this year, and wepromised each other we’d save fancy gifts for after we’ve got the deposit for a house, but I had to do something.’
I look at the flowers and then look at Luke. ‘Youmadethese?’
‘Do you like them?’
I press my top lip onto my bottom one to stop it wobbling and nod in reply. I don’t remember him doing this last time. I think the ‘paper’ bit of our anniversary was the card. Because how can I have forgotten something this sweet?
‘You made me paper roses … ’ I mumble. ‘Andpancakes!’ And then I begin to cry, which confuses the heck of my husband. It kinda confuses me as well, to be honest.
‘Hey … hey … ’ Luke carefully lifts the tray off the bed, puts it on the floor then pulls me into his arms. ‘What’s all this about?’
I cry harder, then snuffle into his arm. ‘I j-just l-love you.’ I’m hit by the truth of my words as I say them. I do. I do love him. No matter what we will say and do in the future.
‘I love you too,’ he says softly, pulling back to look into my eyes.
I take his face in my hands. ‘Do you? Do you really?’
He’s smiling but his brow creases. ‘Of course.’
A lump forms in my throat. ‘Do you promise? Will you always love me? Will you always stick with me?’
Luke’s smile disappears and he smooths one side of my hair flat against my head with a hand. ‘Of course. That’s what this day is all about, isn’t it? Us. In it together. Forever.’
I suddenly remember those were the words he used when he proposed the very first time, and the ring that went with them. I feel it could come in handy now, a good luck charm that might help me navigate through the next nine days and reach a different destination.
