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Abby finishes loading the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and glances at the clock on the kitchen wall. Nearly ten o’clock. Marcus will be here soon to pick up Octavia—the girls have had a sleepover—and then Jake will be here at half past ten to pick up Clarke, who is spending the week before Christmas with him. Just time to nip upstairs, she thinks, and put some makeup on. Not that she needs to make a good impression on either man, of course. It’s just a question of looking presentable on a Saturday morning.
She’s just finishing applying her mascara when the doorbell rings. Marcus. Her pulse quickens, as it always does when she sees him, partly out of nerves that she’s going to embarrass herself and partly out of excitement, because after their breakfast together she feels a little bit more relaxed chatting to him. They’re well on the way to becoming friends, she thinks, and even though it’ll never be enough for her she’s grateful for that at least. She runs down the stairs and opens the door, taking a deep breath and trying not to look too much like a kid on Christmas morning.
Her smile freezes on her face when she opens the door to find a woman of about her age on the other side.
“Hi!” says the woman brightly. “I’m Aurora, Octavia’s mom. We haven’t met.” She extends her hand and Abby shakes it, words momentarily abandoning her.
“Abby,” she says slightly warily. “I’m Clarke’s mom.” What is Aurora doing here? Where is Marcus? Has someone tipped her off that Abby is after her husband, and she’s here to warn her to stay away from him? She’s done everything she can, she thinks in dismay, to hide how she feels and act appropriately around him.
“Well, I know that,” the other woman says with a grin. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be knocking on your door.”
“Right. Of course. Sorry. I’ll just call Octavia. They’re upstairs listening to music.”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could come in a moment. It would be nice if we got to know each other a bit, don’t you think? Since Octavia spends a lot of time here.”
“Sure. Sorry, come in.” She stands back and lets Aurora enter, cursing herself for being overly apologetic as usual. “I’ve just made coffee, if you’d like one?” She’d been planning on sitting down with a coffee and her book when the girls had left, but she can always make another one.
“That’d be lovely, thanks.” Aurora sits at the kitchen table and looks around in appreciation. “You have a lovely kitchen. I love the yellow.”
“Thanks. It helps me to wake up in the morning.” Abby takes out two mugs and pours the coffee, then passes one to Aurora. Beginning to relax a little, she sits down on the opposite side of the table and studies the woman who shares a bed with Marcus every night. She’s not unattractive but not the drop dead gorgeous Abby had expected. She waits for the other woman to speak, curious about what exactly Aurora wants.
“We’ll be seeing more of each other, since I’ll be taking Octavia to soccer from now on,” Aurora says. “And I thought it would be nice if we could be friends. I don’t know any of the other moms.”
She’s going to be taking Octavia to soccer? What about Marcus? A cold block forms in her stomach. Is he avoiding her? Or worse, is Aurora keeping him away from her? She eyes the other woman, trying to work out if there is any trace of threat in her regard, but Aurora looks at her with an open and friendly gaze. What is going on?
It’s no good. She’s going to have to ask. “What about Marcus?”
“Well, it’ll be difficult for him now that he lives in London. Didn’t Octavia tell you?”
“No, she hasn’t mentioned anything.” London? He lives in London? “Do you mean London, England?”
“Yeah, he got a great job there, as head of an international security firm.” Aurora finishes her coffee and puts her mug on the table. “We’re certainly going to miss him.”
“I can imagine,” says Abby faintly. “I mean, I’m really happy for him, but won’t it put a strain on your marriage?”
Aurora stares at her as if she has suddenly sprouted a pair of rabbit ears. “Our marriage?”
“Sorry, it’s none of my business,” says Abby hurriedly. “It’s just that my husband and I got divorced because he was away on Alpha, and our marriage couldn’t stand the distance, but I guess some couples can… I didn’t mean to—“
“Marcus and I are only friends, Abby.”
The words cut through the air like a whip, and Abby is stunned into silence, trying to make sense of what she’s just heard. Not daring to believe what she’s just heard. They’re only friends? They aren’t together?? Her heart soars with hope and then crash lands two seconds later when she remembers he’s moved to London.
“He was my late husband’s best friend and partner, and when Eddie was killed in action, Marcus promised him he’d take care of us. He’s my best friend and O’s godfather, but there’s nothing more than that between us. I suppose he’s more like a brother to me than anything.”
The room seems to be closing in and she struggles to get air into her lungs. This can’t be happening, she thinks. It’s like her best dream and her worst nightmare coming together in perfect fucking irony. She bites her lip and blinks back the tears as nausea swirls inside her, determined not to cry in front of Aurora.
“Oh Abby.” Aurora’s face is lined with sympathy, and Abby realises that at that moment her feelings are laid bare. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
Abby can only nod wordlessly as a single tear finally begins to slide down her cheek. In a flash Aurora is out of her chair and her arms are around Abby, holding her as she cries hot tears of regret for the wasted three months. Aurora lets her cry, and at a certain point Abby thinks she may have shooed the girls out of the kitchen to give her some privacy, then passes her a tissue so that she can clean herself up and regain her composure.
“I’m so sorry,” she says as she blows her nose noisily. “I feel so stupid. Oh God. I just assumed, and didn’t want anyone to think badly of me, so I was always so distant and… aloof,” she finishes lamely.
“Abby, listen to me.” Aurora’s face is intense. “You have to tell him. You have to.”
“What’s the point? He lives on the other side of the world.”
“Just trust me on this, okay? Call him, and tell him.” She squeezes Abby’s hand, and there’s something pleading in her eyes, like she’s trying to tell her something but doesn’t want to actually put it into words.
The doorbell rings again then, Jake is here to pick Clarke up, so Aurora calls Octavia and leaves with a final urgent “Call him! You won’t regret it!”
Jake raises his eyebrows when he sees Abby’s red eyes but she shakes her head at him, as a warning to not ask questions in front of Clarke, so he just gives her arm an affectionate squeeze and makes a “call me” signal with his hand. Clarke gives her a hug and climbs into the car and Abby waves them off, thankful to finally be alone.
She sits at the kitchen table for a long time, staring at her phone, Aurora’s last words echoing in her head. “You won’t regret it.” Could it be—could it be—that he feels the same way? She hardly dares to believe it, doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but… She closes her eyes, and his soft smiling face fills her mind’s eye. She thinks back to the first time she’d seen him, how he’d already known Clarke’s name and wanted to come and say hello, and his puzzled eyes when she suddenly had to take a phone call. How he’d made a beeline for her the following week, bringing her to be introduced to the other moms. The way his face used to light up when she walked into the cafe, and his eyes always found hers across the table when the group erupted into laughter. His hopeful expression when he’d suggested taking the girls to the movies, how relaxed he’d been sitting next to her, how eager he’d been to help her with her car, and take her to breakfast… How disappointed he always looked when she initially refused his invitations. Looking back now with the knowledge that he had in fact been single the whole time, everything is suddenly crystal clear, and she realises she’s been completely blind, and there’s only one thing left to do.
With her heart hammering in her chest and her hands shaking, she picks up her phone.
.....................
The alarm on his phone penetrates his sleep and he groans into the pillow. It can’t be morning already, it feels like he’s only just gone to bed. He reaches out to press the snooze button, squinting at the screen in the dark, and as his eyes focus he realises it’s not his alarm but an incoming call.
Abby. What? She’s never called him, not once in the three months he’d known her at home, and now he’s here in England and she calls him? At—he rubs his eyes and looks at his watch—one twenty am?
He sits up in bed and switches on the light, his heart racing. It must be bad news, he thinks. Why on earth would she call him, if not? Maybe Aurora and the kids have had an accident… With shaking hands he presses accept, realising at the last minute that it’s a video call and his hair is probably sticking up.
His screen is immediately filled with her beautiful face and his heart skips a beat. She’s looking around her distractedly until she realises that the call has connected and her eyes fall on the screen, and the smile that he’s been dreaming of for months lights up her face.
“Hey, stranger,” she says, her voice deep and soft but somewhat shaky with shyness. “You left without saying goodbye.”
“I—what?” His brain is fuddled with sleep and he was so prepared for bad news that he can’t process what she’s saying.
“You left without saying goodbye. I didn’t even know you’d gone.”
Oh. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t think it would matter.”
Her mouth turns down into a sad smile. “It does matter. It matters to me. You see, it seems I’ve been labouring under a false impression for the last three months.”
“You have?”
“Yes. I thought you were married, or at least in a relationship with Octavia’s mom.”
“I’m not.” He frowns. “Why did you think that?”
“Well… why wouldn’t I think it?”
She has a point.
“And so…” she goes on. “I haven’t been at all honest about my feelings. For you.”
He wonders if he’s dreaming. Ten minutes ago he was fast asleep, miserable in the knowledge that he was probably going to be alone for the rest of his life, and now here’s Abby smiling down the phone at him and telling him she has feelings? For him? His heart fills with hope, but he’s terrified of getting the wrong end of the stick. He wants to ask her what she means but they are suddenly drowned out by a loud voice crackly with static, and she flinches in irritation. He peers closely at his phone screen, trying to work out where on earth she is and what the voice could be. According to his calculations it’s eight-thirty pm in New York, but she doesn’t seem to be at home.
Moreover, the voice has a decidedly un-American accent.
“Abby… where are you?”
She laughs nervously then bites her bottom lip adorably. “I—um—might have done something dumb.”
“What did you do?”
“When Aurora told me you’d left, I booked a ticket on the first plane to London. And now I’m at Heathrow airport, and I realise I have absolutely no idea where you are.”
“You’re at Heathrow?”
“Yes.”
“Heathrow, London?”
“Yes.”
He blinks as the information sinks in. He can hardly believe it. She’s here, in London. She came to find him, because he left without saying goodbye to her. Because she has feelings for him, and it matters to her that he didn’t say goodbye. And so she’s flown across the ocean to find him, and now she’s here, in London.
“London, England?” He has to be sure he’s not missing something.
She lets out a half laugh, half sob at his incredulity. “Yes, Marcus! In England. Now are you going to tell me where you are, or do I have to stay here in the coffee bar of terminal four all night?”
He’s suddenly galvanised into action. “Stay right there,” he says excitedly. “I’m coming to get you.” He leaps out of bed and pulls on his jeans and sweater, then brushes his teeth and tames his hair as best as he can. He pulls the bed straight and sprays some of his cologne into the air before chucking the few things lying around into the wardrobe. Shoes, then his jacket and phone and wallet, and six minutes later he’s getting into a taxi outside the hotel.
“Heathrow airport,” he says to the driver. “And step on it!”
The driver rolls his eyes and mutters something about “Americans” and proceeds to pull away at a leisurely speed. Luckily it’s only a fifteen minute ride to the airport, and although it’s torture for Marcus, it’s not long before they’re pulling up outside terminal four. Marcus chucks a couple of fifties at the driver with a hasty “keep the change,” and climbs out of the taxi as the driver grins happily and mutters something about “Americans.”
He sprints into the terminal building, adrenaline coursing through him and heads to the coffee bar in arrivals. There are more people about than he’d expected at this hour, and he scans the faces anxiously, looking for her. When he doesn’t see her he starts to panic. Has he got the wrong place? Where is she?
And suddenly his eyes find hers across the crowded arrivals hall, beautiful eyes shining with a myriad of emotions: hope and fear and amusement and—dare he believe it—love. She walks towards him, a bag slung over her shoulder and a shy smile playing on her lips and she’s so breathtakingly beautiful he stops in his tracks, suddenly feeling completely unworthy of her. She stops too, for a split second, then takes the last few feet at a run and then she’s in his arms, and he lifts her and spins her around, burying his face in her glorious hair to hide the tears which are spilling down his cheeks.
They hold each other for what seems like forever, there in the middle of the airport, oblivious to the hordes of people around them. She’s tiny in his arms but wiry strong and she’s clinging to him like her life depends on it. When they pull apart he sees that her cheeks are wet with tears too, and he wipes them away gently with his thumbs, gazing at her like he can’t believe she’s real. When they open their mouths to speak the words come out at the same time.
“You idiot!”
“You idiot!”
And then:
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
They laugh through their tears, and she brings her hand to caress his beard and trace her thumb over his lips, and he thinks he’s maybe going to die of happiness at the way she’s looking at him.
“You really had to move to England, huh?” she whispers.
“It’s okay, I’m not staying. I resigned.”
“You did?! When?”
“First thing tomorrow morning,” he says, and then he kisses her.