Page 119 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

You haven’t cleaned your teeth in way too long.

You’re deliriously tired and would probably break into bathroom-based song.

All extremely valid reasons why him staying away was for the best. But I couldn’t stop one thought from continuously popping up as my list continued to grow:

You’d fall for him, once and for all.

I must’ve eventually given in to sleep because, the next thing I knew, there was a hand on my shoulder.

Ethan?

No. It was Mum and Anneka. I blinked the airport clock into focus: it was just gone seven in the morning – the wake-up call I’d arranged for them for two hours’ time hadn’t been required after all.

‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ Anneka said gently as I sat up and stretched, my joints creaking. I was shocked to see them, since it was hours before they needed to be here, but very happy to see them, too – especially since Mum looked so much better.

‘What are you two doing here already?’

‘Your sister woke me up at the crack of dawn for some more of that charcoal and we decided we might as well pack up and get going.’

‘Yeah, it didn’t feel right, you being here all alone,’ Anneka added. They sat either side of me on the bench, snuggled in close so their body temperature would raise mine. I couldn’t remember the last time the presence of my family had given me such a warm and fuzzy feeling.

‘Did the packing go okay?’ I asked from the depths of Anneka’s armpit.

‘Yep, we managed to pack most things.’

‘Most things?’ I asked, my mind defaulting to suspicion.

‘My Central Park stick,’ Mum said, her bottom lip jutting out in mock distress. ‘Anneka said we had to leave her behind.’

‘I’m shocked you didn’t insist on bringing it to the airport, to be honest,’ I said.

Mum shook her head. ‘We just wanted to get here, Flo – there was no time for a blazing row.’

‘But there was one thing of yours we didn’t manage to pack,’ Anneka said.

‘Oh God, what was it?’

Mum and Anneka caught each other’s eyes, before they both jumped off the bench and ripped open their respective coats to flash their matching The Bells of New York City T-shirts. Before I knew it, my own balled-up T-shirt was heading towards my face.

The two of them watched eagerly as I slipped off my coat and pulled the massive T-shirt over my jumper. I stood up and twirled, prompting them to applaud – and onlookers to glance at us with early-morning intrigue. This time, though, there was no grimacing or cringing on my part; at the very least, I was grateful for the extra layer. But, more than that, I was finally proud to be part of this trio of weird, wonderful women. The spell of The Big Apple had truly worked its magic on the Bells of New York City.

‘Selfie time!’ Anneka sang, holding her phone at an inhuman but effective angle. We pressed our heads together and grinned at the camera, our matching T-shirts and raspberry-red lips sending passers-by a simple message loud and clear: This is what a happy family looks like.

Christmas Eve in the airport turned into a surprisingly pleasant day once we’d made our way through security. Mum spent most of it dozing, and Anneka visited every single shop at least twice. If the cocktail of fragrances I could still sniff now was anything to go by, she’d also sampled every duty-free perfume available. I treated myself to a spicy hockey romance from the airport bookshop and spent the day devouring it, with the aim of supplanting my real-life pining for Ethan with a simpler yearning for a fictional romantic hero. It wasn’t a particularly successful mission – not helped by the author’s constant references to the tiny droplets of green in one of the leading man’s eyes, which gave me no choice but to recall the green lakes of Ethan’s.

As we approached our gate, I took a final long look behind me, my shoulders sinking as I turned back towards the short queue of people in front of us.

‘You thought he might come?’ Anneka asked, while Mum had nipped to the loo for her final pre-flight wee.

Ethan hadn’t shown up at the airport. I mean, of course he hadn’t – this wasn’t When Harry Met Sally, and he was never going to dash across the city to publicly declare his feelings for me thanks to a sudden romantic revelation at the Washington Square Arch.

I shrugged. ‘I knew he wouldn’t, but… I dunno…’

‘It would have been frickin’ awesome if he had?’ Anneka said.

‘Ha, yeah. Exactly that.’

Anneka pulled me close, resting her chin on my head and rubbing my upper arm. ‘You’ll see him again, I just know it.’