‘Music?’ I suggest, offering Ed one of my earbuds. ‘Might relax you.’
‘Definitely,’ he responds. ‘Think I’m just a little nervous at everyone being together this year. What are we listening to?’
‘Oh, just a little Christmas playlist I put together. No biggie,’ I reply. His face lights up. ‘I knew there was a reason I loved you.’
I press shuffle, resting my head on Ed’s shoulder as the opening bars from ‘Merry Xmas Everybody’ begin to play. The original version– I still hate the other one.
I’m half asleep when Ed gives me a nudge. ‘Kate, we’re here and it’s snowing.’
I sit up and see a thick layer of snow on the platform. ‘How pretty,’ I remark, watching the snowflakes flurry past the window. ‘It’s been ages since we’ve had a white Christmas.’
‘Think Gubba will be pleased?’ Ed asks, laughing.
I start to laugh, too. Gubba loves the snow, almost as much as Tom does, and Tom would happily live in an igloo if we let him.
Grabbing our bags from the overhead storage area, Ed and I head outside to wait for his parents to pick us up, scrambling to put on our warm coats and gloves. We nip into the bus shelter, along with a large group of passengers, all of whom look as coldas I’m starting to feel.
‘Any word from Graham and Lauren?’ Ed asks, checking his phone. ‘They should be checking into their hotel by now.’
‘Nope,’ I reply. ‘I hope they’re not stuck on the back roads. I’ll text Lauren and let her know we’re at the station.’
Ed puts his arms around me while I fire off a quick text to the missing duo. ‘I like it like this,’ he tells me. ‘When it’s all white and quiet. Kind of romantic, don’t you think?’
‘Hmm. . . maybe you can write about it for one of your open-mic nights?’ I tease. ‘Maybe play it on the clarinet?’
‘I have feelings, you know,’ he says, feigning upset.
‘You know I’m only joking,’ I reply. ‘Your open-mic nights are the highlight of my week. I feel like a groupie. Why are you looking at me like that? Is my hair weird?’
He takes a deep breath. Shit, did I actually offend him?
‘Kate. . . God, I was going to wait to do this but, fuck it.’
He goes down on one knee.
‘Ed, what the hell—’
‘Kate Ward. . . will younotmarry me?’
I pause. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘Will you not marry me?’ he repeats, almost sounding unsure of his own words.
I’m so confused. ‘Ed, I’m already not married to you,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Can you please get up? Everyone’s staring. . .’
‘I know,’ he replies, his knee still firmly planted in the snow. ‘But if we can’t do the whole ceremony, the vows and the official-piece-of-paper rigmarole, that’s fine– I can live with that. But what I can’t live with is not proving to you just how committed I am to you. To us. I need that.’
He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small red box. Before I have a chance to gasp, the woman to my right does it for me.
‘So forget about the marriage, but let me do the ring,’ he says. ‘Let me do the honeymoon. Let’s get a mortgage and send tacky joint Christmas cards and buy a family SUV with plenty of space for the dog we’ll adopt. If you’ll agree not to marry me, I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life being the best damn non-husband you’ve ever seen.’
I can’t stop grinning. This is the best non-proposal I’ve ever heard. It’s the only non-proposal I’ve ever heard.
‘Yes,’ I reply, almost as surprised at my response as Ed is.
‘Yes?’ he questions, his eyebrows shooting upwards. ‘You’re saying yes?’
‘Yes, I will not marry you!’ I yell, much to the amusement and confusion of everyone around us.
