Page 63 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

‘Because of everything that’s happened in the last few hours, you dipstick! I met your parents, your lovely friends, we came here – the best gig I’ve ever been to, by the way.’

‘Same.’

‘To spell it out: the more I spend time with you, the more I like you, and the sadder I feel about the thought of never seeing you again.’

I could never have spoken with such honesty if I was sober. But here in this crowd, with alcohol loosening my lips, it felt physically impossible to even pretend to be laid-back.

‘Oh! Oh.’

‘Yeah, sorry. Turns out I really can’t do “aloof English enigma”.’

‘For what it’s worth, I never thought you were aloof.’

‘No?’

‘No, my goofball radar sounded the second I saw your noise-cancelling headphones and pastry-flake-covered overalls.’

‘Dungarees.’

‘Whatever…’

As if to emphasise his enthusiasm for my outfit, he grabbed my shoulder straps and pulled me towards him for another round of against-the-wall kissing.

‘So, it’s a “yes” for the wedding?’ he murmured in my ear during a brief break.

I redirected my focus to my brain to consider his question. Would Mum and Anneka be pissed off if I kept disappearing on them? Going by Anneka’s active encouragement this afternoon, potentially not. But I still had no idea what else they had planned for the next few days, and I didn’t want to let them down.

‘It’s a maybe.’

‘I’ll take it,’ he sighed, planting one final kiss on my mouth. ‘Right, let’s get you back over to Manhattan.’

We fetched our coats and zipped them up in anticipation of cold air. But what greeted us outside was far beyond nippiness – it was more like the beginning of a new ice age. The snow in the air wasn’t just falling; it was swirling manically, coating everything it touched with an instant layer of ice.

‘Fuck, the storm’s hit early!’ Ethan shouted, though I could barely hear him over the wails of the blizzard. The pavement was already a few inches thick with snow, my flimsy Converse soaked through within seconds. My heart sank in anticipation of having to spend tomorrow wearing wet shoes.

‘Will the subway be running?’ I shouted, over the multi-directional chaos.

Ethan ushered me back into the relative shelter of the venue’s entranceway and looked at his phone.

He looked up, grimacing. ‘That’s a negative.’

‘Shit!’

‘Yeah, sorry. Maybe the gig wasn’t the best idea after all.’

I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

I opened my mouth to tell him as much, but he was in fixing mode. ‘Right, let’s head to mine for now and we’ll make a plan from there.’

I nodded, and we stepped back out into the white onslaught. We clutched each other tightly for the short one-and-a-half block walk; sure, I’d wanted to huddle next to him like a penguin earlier, but this Antarctic scene was taking the piss.

By the time we made it inside his communal hallway, my glasses were completely opaque thanks to the simultaneous presence of all three states of water. I took them off and searched for a dry piece of clothing to clean them on. No such thing existed.

‘My God, I’ve never seen snow like it,’ I said, making do with wiping them with a sodden sleeve.

‘Yeah, it was always gonna be a bad one. But it wasn’t due to hit until the middle of the night.’

We trudged up the stairs, my shoes squelching with every step. I suddenly became aware of how cold I was, my teeth chattering. By the time we were inside his place, I was full-on quaking.