Love Happens Here

by Clare Lydon

  “To love,” she said, looking directly at me.

  “To love,” we both chorused back, before licking, drinking, sucking.

  “So how’s it looking from a guest perspective? Eight out of ten? Nine? Six?”

  “Eleven,” Lucy said. She swigged her beer to wash down the tequila. “It’s been a great day.”

  Julia grinned broadly.

  “I think so, too. Tom told me we have to go soon but it seems weird leaving our party before everyone else so I told him to bugger that – sod tradition, I want to dance. So we’re staying. Shall we dance?”

  I looked over to the dance floor and made out Ange shuffling in the far corner so decided to give it a miss.

  “You go, your public awaits. We’re just going to check on Mum and Dad.”

  Julia nodded and then looked sheepish.

  “Oh, and by the way, Ange is here.” She grimaced at us both. “Sorry, in all the rush I completely forgot to un-invite her. My fault but can I request you kill me later?”

  “We know, we’ve seen her.” I couldn’t quite keep the irritation out of my voice but tried to disguise it with a smile.

  “On that note, I’m going to run away like I was never here. Thanks for the drink,” she said. She kissed us both on the cheek before bolting towards the dance floor where Bon Jovi were singing about Tommy and Gina holding on to what they got.

  I looked at Lucy, still looking gorgeous in her dress, her hair slightly more dishevelled than earlier.

  “We good?” I said.

  She blew out a breath but nodded too.

  “We’re good.”

  “I like your forgiving side you know,” I said, rubbing her arm.

  “Forgiven, not forgotten. You might owe me more than one posh dinner now to completely erase the memory.”

  “However many it takes.”

  I leaned forward and kissed her.

  “Shall we?” I said, holding out my hand. She took it and we stepped onto the dance floor together.

  We got in at 2am, drunk, happy, drama-less. Somehow, we’d managed to avoid Ange all night, although we did come perilously close at one stage during the slow dance portion of the evening. Luckily, Julia and Tom had seen the danger and stepped in between us – seeing as it was the first slow dance Lucy and I had ever had, I was lost in the moment.

  And somehow, despite a stack of evidence to the contrary, it had been a good night. Great, even. It had also sparked my internal romance fire, so that by the time we got back to Lucy’s place, images of the evening kept flicking through my mind like an old-fashioned picture book: Jason and Andy, Matt and Natalie, Julia and Tom, Lucy and I. But mainly Lucy and I.

  Now the next morning, despite everything that happened I’d made it through and here I was lying in Lucy’s bed gazing at her sleeping form. The past few weeks had meant me swimming against the tide, like a salmon battling upstream. The odds were against me but there was no way I was stopping because this was my stream, the only one I had. I hoped I’d seen off the other fish because all along, there was only one other I wanted and this was crystal clear. I loved this woman and I was such a ridiculous textbook case I almost laughed out loud. As if sensing my swell of love, Lucy slowly opened one eye and peered out.

  “How long have you been staring at me?” she said. I laughed.

  “Only since I woke up.”

  “And when was that?”

  “About two hours ago.”

  “Liar,” she said. She stretched out her left arm above her head. I leaned in for a quick kiss and she moved in closer.

  “Okay, definitely no longer than half an hour.”

  “I could have you done for stalking.”

  She wrinkled her nose to stop a sneeze. It didn’t work. I decided her sneeze was adorable.

  “Only you don’t normally spend half the night having sex with your stalker, do you?” I reached behind me for a tissue. She took it gratefully and sat up to blow her nose.

  “Only if you’re that woman from Abba,” she said.

  “What?”

  “She married her stalker. The blonde one.”

  “A blonde stalker?”

  “No – the blonde one from Abba whatever her name is.”

  “Did she?” I said.

  Lucy nodded. “She was a recluse, though. He was probably the only person she ever met,” she said.

  “Well that makes it all fine then,” I said. “Anyway, all ready for today?”

  “Totes.” She grinned.

  “Glad you are.”

  She laughed and rolled her eyes at me. “You give your parents a bad press you know – they both seemed lovely to me.”

  “First meeting, best behaviour.”

  “You’re terrible, Muriel.”

  I stretched my left leg under the cover and yawned.

  “It was a good night last night though, wasn’t it?”

  “It was.”

  “Romantic.”

  “Uh-huh, especially the last bit,” she said.

  “That bit was definitely my favourite.”

  “The wedding bit wasn’t bad either.”

  She trailed a finger up my arm and I felt a tingle down my whole body as she leaned in to kiss me deeply, thoroughly, expertly. After several minutes passed we pulled back and I stared into her lucid gaze, emotion flowing between us. I went to speak but the words slipped around in my throat. I felt a rush of love and knew I was about to put my heart on the line. Goddamn my romance Tourette’s. With no impediments in my way, the way forward appeared clear, direct, a lawn freshly mown. All I had to do was launch myself onto it. So I did.

  “I love you,” I said. Pure and simple, my eyes never leaving hers. I’d known it since I first laid eyes on her all those months ago, since she lit up my life. And so it was out there, a weighty three-dimensional declaration, fully formed with sharp edges.

  We both froze, me caught in her full beams and wanting to duck, her assessing the situation. After what seemed like an eternity, she ran her thumb down my cheek and kissed my lips gently, before pulling back.

  “Was that what you were going to say yesterday at the wedding?” she said.

  I smiled. “Might have been.”

  She kissed me again, then paused.

  “And despite all rational logic, I think I love you too,” she said. She sighed deeply and laughed. I guess I deserved that.

  “Only think?”

  She smiled at me. “Work with that for now.”

  We stared at each other, me rolling around our new status in my mind before we both broke into massive grins. I was in love with her and she thought she was in love with me. Yeah, I could definitely work with that for now.

  * * *

  THE END

  * * *

  Want more of the London Romance Series? Read Book Two, This London Love, now!

  * * *

  Friday November 25th

  “You know, I don’t want a lot for Christmas.” That was me, Tori Hammond saying that. Lover of all things Christmas and festive. Even I couldn’t believe the words were coming from my mouth, but they were definitely mine.

  “Thank you, Mariah.” That was my best friend Holly replying.

  I pulled my thick grey scarf around me and shivered in the early evening air. We were sat on our bench at the top of our hill, looking up at the charcoal sky. It had been our hill since school, where we’d met 16 years ago. As teenagers, Holly and I had sat and discussed boys here because we thought that’s what we were meant to do. Now aged 27, we sat and bemoaned women and pretended our world had evolved.

  Behind us was a path lined with bare chestnut trees, their leaves long since dropped. Ahead of us was the smudged outline of the city, fogging up with every breath we took.

  “No, I mean it,” I said, my breath a ghostly circle swirling in front of me. “I don’t need any new clothes or shoes, jewellery or perfume. My mum keeps asking me what I want, and I don’t know what to tell her.”

  Holly rapped her knuckl
es lightly on my skull. Her long legs were crossed, her green duffel coat done right up, her short dark hair peeking out of her hat on one side, part-shaved on the other. In the darkening light, her pointed features appeared almost sinister, but Holly was one of the kindest people I knew — she was anything but sinister.

  “Hello, Earth to Tori — is that you or have you been taken over by some alien invaders? You love Christmas! You’re the biggest Christmas lover I know.”

  I shrugged. “And that hasn’t changed — Christmas is still my most favourite time of the year. I just don’t want any big presents this time.”

  “I’ll remind you of that when I give you nothing,” Holly said. “You could tell your mum to give you a Good Gift — a goat for a family in Africa or something. My gran bought my mum the gift of sight for five children last year.”

  I turned my head. “How did she react?”

  Holly smiled her lopsided smile. “Mum said it was a nice gesture, but a bottle of gin to go with it wouldn’t have gone amiss.”

  I smiled as I turned to face front again, looking out over the city skyline that was twinkling in the inky gloom before me. “Does it mean I’m getting old? Soon, I’ll be leaving presents to open till after lunch. I might even fall asleep before opening them. Imagine that.”

  Holly nudged me with her elbow. “Does anyone in your family do that?”

  An image of Christmas Day with Mum, Gran and Aunt Ellen ripping open their presents one after the other and holding their favoured loot aloft came to my mind. They could hardly contain themselves till after breakfast.

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  “Well then.”

  We sat in silence for a few moments, the air stained and blurry. The smell of flattened mud and grass filled the air, the path in front of us chilled and damp. Holly wore black jeans, a green beanie and a new pair of black and gold Nikes. She’d always followed fashion way more than I did, mainly because she had the 6-foot-2 frame to pull off any item of clothing she fancied.

  “You know what I really want for Christmas?” I said.

  Holly sunk lower on the bench. “A minute ago, it was nothing, but do tell.”

  “I want a girlfriend. Last year I didn’t have one, but that was okay because it was too soon after Amy. But this year is different. This year, I want to share my favourite time of year with someone special. I want to really enjoy the holidays.”

  I heard Holly grin — her jaw always made a noise when she did. “You want a girlfriend for Christmas?”

  “I do.”

  “Well that’s easy enough,” she said.

  I sat up and looked at her. “Is it?”

  She nodded. “Sure. We just make you a billboard, drop you in the middle of Oxford Street and away you go.”

  I scowled. “I’m being serious.”

  She smiled. “So am I.”

  I stood up and paced around in front of Holly, the nearby trees creating eerie shadows. “If I had a girlfriend, she’d have to buy me something — she’d have to think of an amazing present, wouldn’t she?”

  “Which is the perfect reason to get one.” Holly was being ironic, but I ignored her.

  I cast my mind back to the last time I’d had a serious girlfriend. Amy. For Christmas, she’d bought me a hot-air balloon ride one year, a ski jacket the next. I wanted that this year. I wanted to receive presents not bought by my mum or gran. I wanted to go ice-skating and kiss while we held hands. I wanted drunken Christmas sex. And I wanted it all now.

  “But it’s November 25th — Christmas is only a month away,” Holly said. She was far more practical than me. Holly favoured order and spreadsheets, so I could see how this sudden plan troubled her.

  I wagged a finger in her direction, twisting one way, then the other. “It involves a deadline though, and you must admit I work well to deadlines.”

  Holly nodded. “You do.” Then she cocked her head, holding up a single finger. “But I have one question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Is this all because of Melanie Taylor?”

  I paused, then bit the inside of my right cheek. “No.” It was, but I wasn’t about to admit that right away.

  “So it’s just coincidence we heard she’s getting married this morning, you think she’s an idiot, and now you want a girlfriend?”

  I bristled at the suggestion, mainly because it was mostly true.

  “It’s not to do with her — it’s just time. It’s been nearly a year and a half since Amy, and I’m ready for another relationship. I’m not talking about marriage, I’m talking about getting a girlfriend. There’s a big difference.” I turned my head to Holly as the wind whipped my hair in my face. I swiped it left. “It would just be nice to meet someone who gets me.”

  “I get you,” Holly said, spreading her palms.

  “Is that an offer?” I asked.

  Holly and I had always flirted, it was part of our make-up. But we’d been friends for 16 years now, and we both knew that flirting was as far as it was ever going to go.

  Holly grinned at me. “Do you want it to be?”

  I rolled my eyes and resumed my pacing. “You know what I mean. Yes, you get me, but I want a romantic partner to get me. I want someone to take me to dinner, have a conversation and laugh at my jokes. I want to be wooed.”

  Holly’s laughter punctured the descending gloom. “Laughing at your jokes? That’s a tall order.”

  “My jokes are legendary,” I said.

  “In your head,” Holly replied. “That one about the stick?”

  “What’s brown and sticky? That’s a classic.”

  We both laughed now.

  It had been one of those crisp, sunny autumn days that I loved, the kind that made you want to snap out of your normal life, roll up the sunshine and start afresh. Sometimes in autumn, the barren trees left me feeling empty, but today, they were lining a new path, setting me off in a new direction.

  Holly was silent for a moment, her nose pointing skywards, her cheeks flushed from the cold. She sat forward before speaking. “You’re a romantic, Tori. Always have been, always will be. But I’ll help if that’s what you want.” She crossed her legs in front of her. “How do you plan on scoring said perfect woman?”

  I rubbed my hands together and breathed on them, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good. We needed to get inside where it was warm. “I don’t know, I only just decided. But the internet seems a good place to start.” I started to hop from one foot to the other.

  “If you like weirdos.”

  “I love weirdos, you know that. I thrive on them.” Of course, I hadn’t really thought about exactly how I was going to snag my perfect mate — the idea had only come to me today after getting Melanie Taylor’s news.

  We began to walk towards the park gates, Holly towering over me. Holly’s height drew stares everywhere we walked, like now. We didn’t pay them any attention — we were used to it.

  “Anyway,” I continued. “Melanie met whatshername online.”

  Holly punched her hands into the pockets of her thick coat, her laughter a howling gale around us both. “You’re using Melanie’s relationship as a barometer of online sanity? Can I remind you Melanie is a circus freak show all on her own?”

  I nudged Holly with my elbow. “She’s not that bad — and she’s got a girlfriend.”

  Holly stopped walking. “We are talking about the same Melanie, aren’t we? The one who got so off her face at Alison’s wedding, she puked on the groom’s mum? The same Melanie who drove her car into a fence when she was on an empty road? The same Melanie who married someone and divorced them within three months?”

  I let the sentence hang for a few seconds before replying. “I know all of that — but Milly says she’s changed since she met this woman. Apparently, she’s way calmer, a different person. And Milly said she seemed happier too — happier than she’s seen her in a long time.”

  Holly scoffed again. “It won’t last. Melanie has crazy stamped throu
gh her core. She’ll find a way to fuck it up.”

  We were approaching the tall, black iron park gates now, the early evening sharp around us.

  “I disagree. I think Melanie was just waiting for the right person and she’s found her. She’s been saved. I like the thought of that. I want someone to come along and sweep me off my feet, make me see the world in a different way. And if that could happen at Christmas time, I might burst with happiness.”

  Holly blew on to her hands before putting an arm around me. “You don’t need saving — you’re fine as you are.”

  “Maybe.” I paused before continuing. “But maybe there’s someone out there who can make me the best version of myself I can possibly be — there’s always room for improvement, isn’t there?”

  Holly shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “Good,” I said. “So starting tonight, it’s Operation Christmas and you’re going to be my wingwoman, just like in a terrible 80s movie.” I stopped walking and turned to Holly who had an amused look on her face. “And I know you don’t believe me, but I’m deadly serious.” I paused. “Are you in?”

  Holly stroked her rounded chin before answering. “One month is a tight deadline to meet someone and call them your girlfriend.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “But if a Christmas girlfriend is what you’re after, together we’ll look in every street in London to find the perfect woman. Who knows, we might even find someone for me too.” Holly smiled at the thought.

  “We might both find a girlfriend for Christmas,” I said, my smile radiating just how happy that would make me. “Now that really would be a Hollywood movie ending.” I linked my arm through Holly’s as we walked on to the main road and headed back to our flat.

  “But I’d like to say again,” Holly added, “the current version of you doesn’t need any saving. You’re fine just the way you are.”

  I grinned up at her. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: your sweet talk will get you everywhere.”