The sorrow inside me starts to shrink a little. I take hold of Noah’s hand. “Thank you. Oh, but I haven’t got anything to give you.”
“You’ve given me loads.” He squeezes my hand. “You have no idea how much. Truth is, right before I met you, things had gotten a little—”
He’s interrupted as Sadie Lee pulls into the space next to us.
“Never mind,” Noah says with a sigh. He cups my face with his hand. “Penny, I like you so much it might even be love.”
“I like you so much it might even be love too.” My heart fills with hope. Doesn’t love conquer everything? Isn’t that what the song says? And if it does conquer everything then that has to include the Atlantic Ocean too.
I hear Sadie Lee’s car door opening. Time is running out. Noah pulls me toward him and we kiss.
“I told you they love each other,” Bella says in a loud voice right outside the truck.
? ? ?
All the way home on the plane, I cling onto that last conversation with Noah like an emotional life raft. Every time I feel anxious or upset I remind myself of how much has happened since I left the UK. It’s almost as if I’m returning home as a totally different person. But this time I’m not having to pretend to be someone else—I don’t need a superhero alter ego—this time I’m OK just being myself. Every time the plane hits some turbulence, I start running through a mental checklist of everything I’ve achieved since coming away: I’ve learned how to get my panic attacks under some kind of control, I’ve been the semi-official photographer at an American wedding, I’ve gone record shopping in Brooklyn, I’ve had my first ever American Christmas, I’ve fallen in love. I’ve fallen in love! And even as I watch the little plane icon on the screen in front of me slowly tracking its way farther and farther from America, farther and farther from Noah, I still feel OK. Somehow I feel certain that we’ll make it work.
When we land in the UK, my relief at making it back safely combines with my newfound confidence, and even though I’m exhausted, I’ve never felt so determined. I’m going to sort things out with Elliot. I’m going to save up my money from my job at To Have and to Hold to pay for a flight back to New York. I don’t care about the stupid video and I don’t care about Megan and Ollie. I’ve shed my previous life like an old skin. I picture it drifting somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
We finally get home at just gone midnight. Everything looks different. Unfamiliar. The Christmas decorations look sad and dejected, and the house is freezing cold.
As Mum and Dad make some tea, I go straight up to my bedroom. I have to play Noah’s CD. I plonk down onto my bed and straightaway I hear a knocking sound. Elliot! I hold my breath as I wait to decipher the code. One knock, followed by four knocks, followed by three: I—love—you. My body fills with relief. Since Christmas Day we haven’t texted each other at all. It’s the longest I’ve ever gone without having any contact with Elliot. Before I can respond he’s knocking again. Can I come over? I quickly do the code for Yes, come over right now.
I can play the CD later. I need to get things back on track with Elliot first. I hear his front door shutting and I lie back on my bed staring up at the ceiling. I hear Dad letting Elliot in, the gentle murmur of their voices. Elliot’s feet pounding up the stairs. My life is slotting back into its old patterns. I count the seconds till my bedroom door opens. One, two, three, four . . .
“Penny!” Elliot bursts in, breathless. “I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you so much. Are you—? Are we—OK?”
I sit up and smile. “Of course we are.”
“Oh, thank God!” Elliot sits down on the end of my bed. “I’m so sorry I got so moody. But you have no idea the pressure I was under. It’s been hell. Guess what my parents got me for Christmas?’
I shrug.
“A rugby season ticket. Rugby! They know I hate rugby. With a passion.” Elliot throws his hands up in despair. “Why would you give your only son a present that you know he actively hates with a passion? Why? And they actually thought it would be a good idea for us to have a cheese fondue for Christmas dinner. I mean, hello! The seventies called—they say they need their kitsch back.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Oh, Elliot.”
“I know. They’re beyond help. Or hope.” Elliot looks at me and sighs. “So go on then.”
“What?”
“Tell me all about Prince Charming.”
“Seriously?” I study Elliot’s face for any sign that he doesn’t really mean it.
Elliot smiles. “Yes, seriously.”
So I give Elliot a watered-down version of my week with Noah, leaving out anything too corny that I think might make him feel jealous. When I finish, I look at him nervously.
Elliot’s expression is unreadable. “But how do you feel now? Now you know you can’t see him again?”
“It’ll be OK—we’ll work something out.”
Elliot frowns. “But how? He’s in New York and you’re in Brighton.”
“Yes, I know that.” I fight hard to stay positive. “But we can visit each other.”
Elliot nods but there’s something about his gaze that looks really doubtful and it makes a chink in my armor of positivity.
We both fall silent and I start to really regret having said anything.
“So, do you have a picture of him?” Elliot asks, breaking the silence.
I nod and take my phone from my bag and scroll through to the picture of Noah in the park. “This was on Boxing Day morning, when he took me on the tour of his neighborhood.”