‘Right. . . of course you do,’ Sarah replies, blushing. ‘Silly me.’
He pauses for a moment. ‘So. . . does this mean that Nick is coming back now? He didn’t come to see us for ages.’
Alfie looks up at me with those giant brown eyes and I’m reminded of the first time I saw him. I feel guilt twist in my stomach for letting him down.
‘I’m sorry, Alfie. You’re right – I should have come to see you, buddy, but I’m not going anywhere now. I’ll be sticking around if that’s OK with you?’ I smile at him and then look up at Sarah who is beaming at him.
‘Can I ask something?’
‘Anything! I know this must be confusing and—’
‘Why does Spot only have three legs?’
I laugh out loud because Alfie doesn’t appear to be remotely weirded out by any of this. ‘You know, I think he was born that way. Some dogs are just born cooler. . . you know?’ Spot was actually hit by a car in a rather awful accident that left his leg pulverised, but that seems a little grim, so I decide to keep that detail to myself.
Sarah spots the food trolley coming down the carriage. ‘Alfie, I’ll give you money for a sandwich. You can share it with Spot, yeah?’
Alfie agrees and takes Spot by the lead, proudly walking him the fifteen steps to the trolley. Sarah places her hand on my knee.
‘That day at the coffee shop. . . why didn’t you just ask me out? When you asked for my number. . . I thought I was giving it to you.’
I glance over towards Alfie and make sure he’s not within listening distance.
‘So, long story short, when Alfie came to see me as Santa, his Christmas wish was for you to be happy again.’
‘No way?’ Sarah’s eyes begin to well up and soon tears are spilling down her cheeks.
I nod. ‘And he made me promise to make his wish come true. And I really wanted to. I thought maybe Matt might bring a little happiness into your life – he’s so dependable and together and loy—’ I think better of my final adjective – ‘a grown-up. Whereas I was a total mess, which was the last thing you needed.’
She leans in again. ‘You might not have been what I needed, but fuck knows, you were what I wanted, Nick.’
‘That’s kinda hot,’ I inform her, grinning.
‘Uh-huh.’ She leans in and kisses me again, slower this time.
Alfie brings back a chicken sandwich which he happily shares with a grateful Spot. I think Alfie might have found a new best friend.
‘Mum, is Nick coming to stay at Granny’s for Christmas?’
She glances at me and bites her lip. ‘I’m sure we could make room for a couple of nights.’
I smile and take out my phone.
Keep those beers on ice, mate. I’ll be back for Christmas.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Meeting a girl’s parents is always a nerve-wracking experience, but turning up at their door uninvited is truly terrifying.
‘Relax,’ Sarah says as we approach their house, ‘I’ve already texted them. They’re happy to have you.’
‘But they’ve never met me,’ I reply, frowning. ‘What if they hate me? What if they hate my dog?’
Sarah hands the taxi driver a tenner and tells him to keep the change. ‘Well, put it this way: if they do hate you, my mum’s seventy and my dad’s in a wheelchair. You can easily outrun them.’
I laugh in surprise while Sarah exits the taxi, collecting her bags from the boot of the car. Shit. I don’t even have a toothbrush; this is a terrible idea.
Sarah’s childhood home is exactly as I expected – utterly charming. A quaint-looking, brightly lit, cream-brick bungalow with blue-trimmed windows and a neatly tended garden. The whole village reminds me of a leafy pre-watershed BBC drama where the local midwife rides a bike, the vicar’s wife runs the village shop and no one’s milk gets nicked from their doorstep.
