Cold Feet at Christmas

by Debbie Johnson

  The man-he-now-knew-was-Doug straightened up, glanced over his shoulder as though checking for back up.

  “She might not want to see you, Rob. She’s not been well.”

  The tone in Doug’s voice held a very clear subtext: because of you, you bastard. Rob was aware that several of the other staff had stopped what they were doing, were standing around, watching and listening. Staring at him with utter hostility. Looked like he’d just run foul of the Leah Harvey Fan Club, and he was first candidate for a tar and feathering. It was touching, in its own way – and he wasn’t even remotely surprised. Why wouldn’t they love her, and want to protect her? He did. It had just taken him a really long time to realise.

  He reminded himself of that as he chose his next words.

  “Look, Doug – you are Doug, right? – I’ve come a long way to see Leah. To make things up to her, if she’ll let me. I don’t know what she’s told you, but I’m sure her description of me was nowhere near as bad as the reality. I treated her like crap, and I won’t deny it. But I’m not the only one to have made mistakes, am I? Not the only one to have hurt Leah? We both have. And now I’m here, and I want nothing more than the chance to apologise, and hope she gives me one more chance. I love her, more than anything in the world. Maybe you do too, Doug – but doesn’t she deserve the chance to decide for herself? If you guys are back together, and that’s what she wants, then I’ll wish you luck – but I intend to have the chance to hear that from Leah with my own ears.”

  Doug flushed slightly, his pale skin colouring easily at the mention of his own indiscretion. He pulled the tea towel from around his lean shoulders and rubbed his hands on it. His hands were dry and clean; it was obviously a nervous thing. He stared at Rob, as though weighing him up, trying to make the right decision. The right decision for Leah. Rob tried to look as trustworthy as he could, tried not to look like a barbarian brute out to ravish the fairy princess. And the way the rest of the staff were glaring at him, there’d be mop handles in mysterious places if he played this wrong. He could feel their communal anger; they even seemed to take a step forward, like in a zombie film.

  “Okay,” said Doug eventually, after what felt like a lifetime of deliberating. “You get your chance, Rob Cavelli. She’s up the stairs in the back, second door on the right. Knock before you go in – like I said, she’s not well. And no, we’re not back together – but if you upset her, even one little bit, you’ll pay for it. You’ve done enough damage. Are we clear?”

  It was hard for a man built like Doug to look threatening, especially against Rob, who was two inches taller and thirty pounds of muscle heavier. But he gave it his best shot, and Rob had to respect that.

  He nodded gratefully, then walked up through the bar. Past the mop-wielding Leah-loving zombies. Up the stairs. Down the corridor. Second door on the right. He paused, took a deep breath. Had no idea what was going to happen next, but knew that the rest of his life depended on it.

  He knocked, and waited. Wondered if they’d warned her somehow – phone, walkie talkie, zombie mind tricks – and if she’d even answer. If she’d tell him to go screw himself, or was already halfway out of the window. Knowing Leah, she’d get stuck, and he’d be confronted by her ass in the air as she tried to make the fire escape.

  “Come in, I’m decent as I can be!” came her voice. God, her voice. How much he’d missed it. Her silly teasing, her inappropriate jokes, that crazy accent. He felt his knees weaken, like a great big girl.

  He turned the handle, pushed the door. Walked in, knees still shaky. Everything shaky.

  She was there, lying in a single bed tucked up against the wall of a small room. She was bundled under a pile of blankets, and the minute she saw him, she pulled them even closer up to her chin, hiding her whole body.

  Her eyes widened so far they took up her whole face, and he heard an audible intake of breath. Her hair was longer than he remembered, like she hadn’t cut it since January. It was so long, like Rapunzel, coiled over her shoulder and touching her lap. He wanted to run to her, to bury his face in it, to lose himself in the smell of her, the scent of her shampoo. To beg her forgiveness, and never leave her side again.

  Instead, he kept his distance. She was staring at him with what he could only describe as horror, her fingers convulsively gripping the top of the blankets. Like she was afraid of him. Surely that couldn’t be right? Yeah, that last time between them had been on the rough side, but she’d seemed okay with that. Unbothered by it. What had happened since then to make her so scared? He could see it in her eyes, in the taut stretch of skin around her mouth. In her silence.

  “Leah,” he said, taking one cautious step into the room, leaving the door open so as not to spook her even further. “How are you?”

  It wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wanted to apologise. To tell her he loved her, more than life itself. That he didn’t want to go on without her. To ask her to come home with him, home to a new life that he’d make perfect for her, forever. But looking at her terrified eyes, the fine trembling in her shoulders, he knew he couldn’t. Shouldn’t.

  “Um…how am I? I’m shocked, Rob. Very shocked. Why are you here?”

  He shoved one hand into his pocket, and ran the other through his hair, the way he always did when he was stressed. Oh my, thought Leah, watching him. How tired he looks. How drained. There were lines on his forehead that weren’t there a few months ago, shadows under his eyes that had appeared since she last saw him. Still magnificent, still heartbreakingly handsome, but subdued – anxious.

  She was so surprised to see him, so lost in studying his face, she was finding it hard to think. To speak. She’d fantasised about this moment so many times over the last eight months. Imagined him walking through that door, taking her in his arms, telling her everything would be all right. Taking away the fear and the loneliness and the anxiety. Eventually, she’d trained herself out of it. She couldn’t deal with the heart break, couldn’t process the extra pain at a time when her body had so much else to be coping with. As the baby had grown inside her, she’d learned to love it – and learned to block thoughts of its father out of her mind as best as she could.

  And now here he was, in the glorious flesh. Standing in her doorway again. Looking stressed again. On her territory; her baby’s territory.

  Did he know, she wondered? Was that why he was here? He’d somehow found out, and was doing the macho thing? The well-raised Italian boy thing? Was he here to make an honest woman out of her because he’d accidentally knocked up the waitress?

  Because she didn’t want that. If she’d wanted that, she’d have told him as soon as she realised she was pregnant. She knew Rob, knew his family – they would have stood by her. Been decent about it. Helped her out any way they could. That’s part of why she’d left in the first place, so quickly. Before she had the chance to grow to the size of a house, like she was now. Before they’d had time to figure it out, to force her into accepting their support.

  She’d called Doug. Figured he owed her something, at least. He’d come up trumps, meeting her at the airport, treating her like she was made of china. There was nothing left between them now, and they both knew that. Nothing apart from friendship, which she’d valued above all else. He’d given her the rooms above the bistro to call her own. He’d driven her to all her hospital appointments. Held her close when she sobbed after her scans; sobbed from the joy of seeing that baby growing inside her, sobbed with sadness at the fact that she was doing this alone. Without Rob. That, if she had her way, he’d never ever know about it. Never feel any sense of duty, any obligation to stand by her. If he didn’t want her before she was carrying his child, she didn’t want his pity. Didn’t want a relationship based on a sense of responsibility.

  And now, despite her best efforts, he was there. Larger than life and twice as gorgeous. Despite her swollen tummy, she felt something hormonal and basic respond to him deep inside. Felt her toes curl as she looked at his grim mouth; the darkness of his e
yes. Felt her resolve weaken as she imagined how good it would be to lie in those strong arms again. To stop feeling so very lonely.

  “Why are you here?” she repeated, realising that they’d spent the last few minutes simply gazing at each other. On cue, the baby kicked, hard and sharp beneath her ribs. He was big now. Almost baked, she’d joked to Doug, and ready to come out of the oven. Strong and healthy and letting her know he was there.

  She winced, made a little cry, because it hurt. She was sore inside, and felt like she was carrying a beach ball between her legs. Pregnancy was simultaneously a beautiful and a horrifying experience.

  He dashed over to her side, knelt beside the bed, the frown marring his brow showing her that he’d noticed. Of course he had. He noticed everything.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out as if to touch her, pulling back when she shrank even further inside the covers, retreating from him in fear. “Doug said you weren’t well – is it serious? What’s going on, Leah?”

  “No, no. Just a cold. I’m sure it’ll be gone in a few days.”

  More like a week, she thought, knowing her due date like an old friend. A week until her baby would make his arrival on the scene. Her baby and Rob’s. The baby he might not know about.

  “Right,” he said, his expression telling her he didn’t believe it. He didn’t push, and she was grateful. She wasn’t up to an interrogation. Not from this man, who could still make her melt in places she’d forgotten existed. At least it seemed he had no idea about the baby. Doug might have sent him up here, but at least he’d covered for her, giving her a ready excuse.

  “I’m here to tell you something,” he said, still kneeling down beside her. “And to ask you something.”

  “Well, get on with it then,” she replied. She knew she sounded snippy, but figured she’d earned it. She wanted him gone, back out of her life. Because before long she was going to need to get up out of this bed, and go to the loo. For the fifteenth time this afternoon. And she didn’t want Rob around to see her floundering around looking like she’d eaten Wembley Stadium for breakfast.

  “I’m here to tell you that I love you, Leah. That I love you with all my heart. That I’ve been an idiot. That I should never have let you go. That I need you to forgive me for being such a fool and letting you slip through my fingers.”

  Leah stared at him, mouth flapping open. Now that was not what she expected. Not in a million years. Could she believe it? Could it possibly be true? Could she simply be hallucinating, living out her dearest fantasy in her own addled mind? Maybe she was asleep…

  “Is this real or am I imagining it?” she said, out loud, wondering if she should start pinching herself.

  “It’s real, sweetheart. As real as it gets. Please believe me - I love you. I loved you from the first moment you fell through my door in Scotland. I was spellbound from the first time I looked into your eyes. And like the fool I am, I spent every moment after that fighting it, fighting you—”

  “Fighting your chance to be happy. Because you didn’t think you deserved it.”

  Rob nodded, unable to reply. Completely in awe of her. Of course she understood. When hadn’t she understood him? She’d known more about him after a few days than most people he’d hung around with for the whole of his life. She knew him, and she’d wanted him. She’d known everything about him – the good, the bad and the ugly – and still she’d loved him. When he’d rejected her, when he’d hurt her, when he’d proposed both a marriage and a divorce in one sentence, she’d still loved him. Could he dare to hope that was still the case?

  “Ok. Well, now you’ve told me something. And I don’t know quite what to do with it just yet. What was it you wanted to ask?” she said, shifting uncomfortably under the blankets, her face squeezed with the effort of moving her body a few inches. He dearly wanted to know what was wrong with her, why she was in so much discomfort – but now wasn’t the time to ask about that. Now was the time to ask something else entirely.

  She looked on as he fished around in the pocket of his coat. Ran his fingers through his hair. Gave her the smile. That quirky, sideways half-smile that had always driven her wild.

  “Well, at least I’m in the right position…” he said, offering her a small, square box. She stared at it, resting on the palm of his outstretched hand. Small. Square. Box. Surely he couldn’t mean…

  “Leah Harvey, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

  He did. He did mean that. The small square box contained an engagement ring, and Rob had just proposed. Down on two knees, to be precise, but it was the thought that counted. She was confused; stunned; nervous. There was so much at stake here. So much to gain, and so much to lose.

  Even if he wasn’t doing this for the sake of the baby, could she trust his motives? Could she trust him? She had someone else to think about now. A baby. A son. A son who needed her to make the right decisions for him, to raise him safe and secure, with or without a daddy.

  Rob’s hand was shaking, and he was gazing at her imploringly, waiting for her answer.

  “Why now?” she asked. “What makes you think you deserve to be happy now?”

  “I had a little help from my friends. And living without you these last few months has been hell, Leah. I wasn’t coping well with life before, and I certainly wasn’t coping after. The time we spent together showed me how life could be – so I shut it down. I didn’t think I deserved it. But you know all about that. It took you leaving for me to realise how stupid I’d been. How I didn’t want to live without you.

  “I can’t promise to be perfect. I can’t promise to never be moody, or have moments when the guilt doesn’t spill out again. But I can promise one thing – that I genuinely love you, with all my heart, all my soul. And that I will try so hard, so very very hard, to make you happy. To be the husband you need me to be.”

  She reached out, closed her hand over his, covering the box with both their fingers. He meant it, she knew. She could see it there, in those gold-flecked eyes. In the way he leaned towards her, so desperate to touch. Heard it in the passion of his words, the heat of his voice. Nobody could fake this, and no man on earth would be less likely to even try than Rob. Accepting that he loved her would have been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. No, she believed him. And, she thought as she gave herself a little pinch, she was definitely awake. It was happening, and it was scary, and it was wonderful.

  He loved her. Rob loved her, and he wanted to marry her.

  She smiled; a wide smile, a smile full of promise, full of secrets.

  “I believe you, Rob,” she said. “I really do. But it’s not just husband material I’m looking for any more.”

  He frowned, confused. She was smiling. She looked happy. She hadn’t slapped him. But she hadn’t said yes either – and what did she mean by that last comment?

  He was stammering out a question when she pulled back the covers, and inched herself slowly and laboriously to the edge of the bed.

  “It’s father material too, if you think you’re up to the challenge. Give me a hand?”

  Rob stood, staring down at her tummy, eyes wide in wonder. Leah held up her hands, and he helped her to her feet. She was enormous, he thought. Surely about to pop. He tried to wrap his arms around her, found out he couldn’t. She was just too round. Too big, too beautiful, too full – of his baby. Of a child that they could raise together, and love together, and watch grow together. He’d missed out on all of this, but he was determined not to miss one minute more.

  “Did you know? When I turned up that day, offering you that romantic proposal of mine?”

  “I did know. And I couldn’t tell you, Rob, not after that. Not when you’d made it so clear you didn’t want me. Maybe I’d have changed my mind after he was born – I never knew quite how I’d feel about that, whether I’d feel it was right to keep you in the dark. But right then, I needed to get away from you.”

  “I don’t blame you, Leah. And you did a damn fine
job of it. But now I’m here, and yeah, I’m up to it. More than I’ve ever been up to anything in my life. Give me the chance to make everything up to you. To you, and to our baby.”

  She grinned up at him, her amber eyes glistening.

  “Well shut up and kiss me then,” she said. “If you can find a way around Mr Bump.”

  He leaned down. And being Rob Cavelli - reindeer wholesaler, pirate white slaver, and the love of her life - he found a way.

  Epilogue

  The fire was crackling, small sparks periodically shooting off from the logs Rob had stacked it with. He gave it a jab with the poker, letting the ash settle before he returned to the sofa. To Leah. To his soon-to-be-wife.

  It was Christmas Eve, and they were back in the cottage where it all began. This time, though, there was no wedding dress. And no misery. Just a very happy couple, and a stack of gifts under the mammoth pine tree that Morag had, as usual, decorated. This year, Leah had brought her own as well, adding in her own quirky touches to the tree, stocking the kitchen, bringing a sense of love and comfort to a place that had previously been barren and cold. To him, at least.

  He climbed on top of her, pinning her easily beneath his body. She was even softer now, with a tiny bit extra around her tummy. Her baby blancmange, she called it, usually with a scowl. He didn’t care. He loved it. Loved everything about her. Loved the fact that her body showed the marks of their baby; the tiny creature who had bound them even closer together. Their son, Luca. He couldn’t wait for their wedding in the New Year, and was possibly even more excited about it than she was.

  Leah wound her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers into the curl of his hair. Kissed him so well and so thoroughly that his eyes started to swim. There hadn’t been too much hanky-panky in recent times for obvious reasons, and now he was like a teetotaller on his first drunken binge: he’d lost all his tolerance, and the slightest of touches sent him wild.

  Of course, she loved that. Loved having him at her mercy. He ran his hand gently beneath her T-shirt, caressing her skin, sliding his fingers gently upwards. He felt her body arch towards him, knew what she wanted. For him to touch her there, on her breasts. He held off, teased her. Smiled down.