This is my secret santa present to the lovely Matilda! It's a bit longer than originally planned and I'm not entirely happy with the ending, but oh well hope you enjoy and Merry Christmas!xx
Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you…
I groan and turn my face back into my pillow as my alarm sounds, fumbling blindly around my bedside table to hit the snooze button. Even after years of nursing, early morning shifts never get easier. I feel the familiar lurch of my stomach that comes with being awoke from such a deep slumber, though this morning I feel as though I may actually be sick. Remembering the cheap, Tesco Value wine that I guzzled last night I groan again and pull the covers over my head, savouring the warmth of the duvet before the time came for me to step out into the freezing air of my flat. In winter, it was always a nightmare to heat up as the windows are draughty and the central heating system is ancient. However, on an NHS salary, despite the inhumane hours I work, I still can't afford to upgrade.
Eventually, I manage to force myself out of bed and hobble into the bathroom. I feel slightly unsteady on my feet, my stomach still churning, and quickly drop down onto the side of the bath, running a hand through my hair as I try to wake myself up. I consider ringing in sick, but Connie would know instantly that it was a hangover and come down on me like a ton of bricks, and I couldn't give her that ammunition. Funnily enough, we had been less at each other's throats recently, almost to the extent that I didn't actually mind being forced to attend meetings with her. In fact, I had begun to find her little rants quite endearing, although I would never admit it, and often, although it may just be my mind playing tricks on me, we share a smile as we pass one another in the corridors. Nothing too meaningful, just a friendly nod of the head to acknowledge each other's existence. Which was meaningful enough, I suppose.
I drag myself to my feet again, wincing at my white, bordering on grey skin in the cabinet mirror, before brushing my teeth and getting dressed and ready. I make myself a slice of toast in the kitchen with extra apricot jam, my foolproof hangover cure, but for some reason this morning I can't seem to fancy it. Still, I force it down with my cold, numb fingers and follow it with a mug of sugary coffee and two paracetamol before wrapping up warm and setting about my short drive to work.
The bright lights of the ED corridors make me squint and I feel my breakfast twist ominously in my stomach. Praying that the painkillers will kick in soon, I decide that paperwork is the best way to start my day. That's not before bumping into Mrs Beauchamp, of course.
"Good night was it, Nurse Freeman?" She says knowingly with a disapproving sneer. "I suggest you have more control next time or you shall face disciplinary action. We can't have you putting patients lives at risk just because you like to overindulge, can we?"
Before I have chance to shoot back a reply she has gone. I quickly made my way to the staffroom for handover, trying to avert my eyes from the blinding lights all around me.
"Rita! You look awful!" Robyn exclaims as I arrive, and I grimace.
"Thanks," I reply sarcastically, flopping down on one of the sofas. "I really need to stop drinking wine on a work night."
"My god, how much did you drink? You look worse than Lofty after eight pints and three rounds of jägerbombs."
"Hey!" Lofty says, coming to sit down with a cup of tea. "That was once!"
Robyn chuckles to herself, sitting down just as Charlie comes in with the handover files. After yet another quick enquiry after my health, "Someone walking over your grave, Rita?", he begins the long tale of the patients that were currently roaming our corridors and whereabouts we were in their treatment, but I barely heard him. My mind felt like it was being overcome by a thick fog and my head pounded uncomfortably. It took be a couple of seconds to register when he had finished and I hastily made my way to my office.
Once comfortably in my chair, I felt every aching limb begin to relax, and I flicked the little kettle I kept plugged in beneath my desk on with the tip of my shoe ready for another strong cup of coffee. I reach my trembling fingers to my temples, both in an attempt to warm them up and to soothe my sore head. One glance at my computer screen is all I need to prompt me to urgently switch it off, the glare from the screen almost blinding with its brightness. For a while I pick up my pen to fill out the endless forms and discharge sheets laid on my desk, but my brain just wont seem to allow any productivity whatsoever. My blinding headache continues, and I make a mental note to write to Tesco to inform them that their cheapest Pinot Grigio is a danger to public health. My mind somehow is managing to both race and grow foggy at the same time, and I find myself in a state of only semiconsciousness, my eyes glancing lazily towards the half-closed blinds of my office window.
Connie Beauchamp was standing tall at the nurses station, no doubt quizzing Lofty on yet another dubious decision. I noticed his tense stance and his slightly trembling lips only momentarily before my eyes were drawn to Connie like a magnet. In my hazy, unreserved state I for the first time allowed my mind to roam completely free with thoughts of her, to experience my true feelings towards her completely.
As she stood there, hand on hip, looking down expectantly on the poor young nurse I began to notice for the first time the golden tones in her hair, the curve of her lips as she pouted and the long fingers pressing into her side impatiently. I wanted to examine her completely, touch her, notice every little perfection and every beautiful flaw. I felt drawn to her, not because I hated her, as originally thought, but because she seemed to have this strange power to make me both infuriated whilst in her presence and still long for it every time she was gone. I realised then, in my sluggish mind, that the reason I had been so preoccupied with her, so infatuated, was because I ached to be by her side. I could listen to her rant all day long if it meant being able to watch her in her glory. I could forgive her for every venomous word she said at the drop of a hat. I could spend every moment with her, and wanted to, because she somehow seemed to make my heart both pound and relax simultaneously.
My epiphany was interrupted by an urgent knock at the door, and I looked up to see Cal poking his head tentatively around it.
"RTC - six casualties, ETA five minutes," he said matter-of-factly, with a slight frown at my drooping eyes and shaking hands. I nodded in reply and he was gone.
As I stood up my stomach lurched again as though on a boat in distress and I steadied myself against my desk before giving myself a mental shake and rushing towards the door.
Outside, in the glare of the strong artificial lighting of the ED, I had to stop for a second to shy away from its burning brightness. I raised a hand to shield my eyes, and vaguely registered someone calling for me to meet the first casualty. My vision turned blotchy, black lightly flashing all around and I felt my blood shoot downwards, away from my burning cheeks and straight to my churning stomach. The last thing I felt was a firm hand on my arm before my knees buckled, and my vision faded away.
…I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now…
I sigh as my futile attempt to ease the boredom of my early commute to work falls flat as the piercing lyrics set me into an even more testy mood than I started off in. I try to shut off my unruly thoughts, quickly switching the station back to Radio Four and away from the agonising lyrics of songs that had suddenly become too relatable for me to bear.
I don't know what is wrong with me.
It had been burning for some time now, bubbling away beneath the surface, ready to erupt at any inconvenient point. But I had ignored it enough, and during a fierce and ruthless argument three months ago it had all come flooding through and I finally understood.
She enraged me, captivated me in a way that no one ever has done before, and likely never will again. For months and months I thought that it was because of her arrogant working style, her effortless popularity with the staff and her compassionate approach to rule-breaking, but it wasn't. I realised, half way through that venomous exchange, that the reason I had pushed her away so violently, so insistently, was because I was utterly enchanted by her.
I don't know what it was that set off this spark, can't even begin to list the endless possibilities, but it was there and when I finally acknowledged it's presence there was nothing left to do but wait for it to run its course. In the meantime, however, I vowed to lessen my vengeful pursuit of her and try to treat her with a little more respect, whilst still remaining frosty enough for her not to notice my newfound warmth. Really, I dreaded to pass her in the corridors, or to be forced by necessity to share a patient with her, as this only brought these feelings ever closer to the forefront of my mind and made me want to scream with frustration at my idiocy. A clinical lead falling for their senior staff nurse! Who would have thought it? We're from different worlds, different lives, and it can never become reality.
My shift gets off to a reasonably unremarkable beginning and I somehow manage to avoid her for the most part, except for a slightly exaggerated remark about her ghastly appearance this morning. She looked, quite frankly, like death warmed up and I very nearly sent her home. But, as it was a Sunday morning I quickly concluded that she had simply overdone the wine the night before and would perk up in half an hour or so.
But I was wrong. I was walking back to my office after speaking to Lofty about the disappearance of a patient under his care when she stepped into my path, coming out of her office in response to Cal's call for her to assist with an RTC. I saw her stop and every ounce of colour drain from her face faster than I would have thought possible. I caught hold of her arm just in time for her to lose consciousness and become a dead weight in my arms.
"Can I get some help here?" I shouted urgently, bringing her gently down to the the floor and placing the patient files I held underneath her head whilst I elevated her legs in an attempt to restore the blood flow to her head. Slowly, she began to come back around, her eyelids fluttering open as Charlie arrived with a wheelchair to take her to triage. She looked up in confusion, squinting at the light and murmuring something incoherent.
"It's okay, you just passed out," I said gently, touching my fingertips lightly to her cheek and feeling it burn beneath them. She sighed and lifted her hand heavily before laying it back down on her stomach with a soft thud, seemingly not having the energy to complete the original action she had in mind.
"Great," she breathed, barely audible. She took a few deep breaths. "Help me up, I'll be fine in a minute."
I looked at her skeptically. She didn't look fine, but I nevertheless got back on my feet and scooped her up from the cold, hard plastic flooring of the hospital corridors, slinging one of her arms around one of my shoulders to better take the weight. I had just begun to lower her into the wheelchair when she spoke again, her voice thick and sluggish.
"I don't," she began, clinging onto me tightly. "I don't… f- feel-"
I gasped as her stomach rapidly emptied right onto my Louboutins. Holding my breath against the stench, I quickly lowered her down into the wheelchair, kicking off my ruined stilettos before calling for someone to clean up the mess and following Charlie to cubicles.
"I'm fine, I'm fine now," she insisted groggily, and Charlie tutted at her, shaking his head.
"No you're not," he said firmly, with concern. "You're burning up. You need to go home and get some rest. We can't have you spreading germs all around the hospital, you know that."
She groaned, running a hand over her face before nodding slowly in agreement. "I'll go home. I just need to get my keys…"
"You're in no fit state to drive. I'll call you a taxi."
"No taxi will take her in this state," I interjected, looking over her ghostly complexion contemplatively. I hesitated. "I'll drive her back, then get a taxi back to the hospital."
"You don't have to do that," she murmured, her eyes struggling to stay open. "I'll be fine driving, just give me a minute."
"No, you wont be fine," I asserted, trying my best to look her in the eye sternly whilst her eyelids drooped heavily. "You've obviously got a nasty bug, and in your state I wouldn't be surprised if you had fallen asleep at the wheel before you even turn out of the car park!"
Even with her eyes more or less closed I could see them rolling beneath her lids sarcastically. "Best place to have a crash though…" She mumbled. I half-smiled at her humour before turning back to Charlie, asking him to go and get her things so I could take her home. Despite my care for her, I wasn't about to let her throw up in my brand new lexus, so I needed her keys to drive that instead.
Soon, with a bowl balanced on her lap incase she was ill again, I was tentatively pulling out of the ED car park, not wanting to move to fast in case that aggravated her stomach. I had tapped the 'home' button on her satnav and after a short drive pulled up outside a nice-looking block of flats just over reasonable walking distance from the hospital.
"Whereabouts is yours?" I asked, pulling up the handbrake and switching off the engine. She groaned in response, her head in her hands.
"Up there," she mumbled, before retching into the bowl again.
I laughed despite myself, reaching out a comforting hand and tucking her short blonde hair behind her ears. "They're all 'up there'. Which number?"
She finished vomiting and sat back in her seat, her head lolling back as she looked at me through hooded eyes. I wanted to hug her. "Twenty-two," she said on a breath, her chest heaving and her cheeks slightly pink.
"Right," I replied, reaching down to unclip both our seatbelts. "Let's get you up there then."
I walked around to the passenger side door, taking the bowl from her as I wrapped one arm around her middle to help her up. I could feel her trembling against me and her knees were shaking. Holding on to her tightly, we began making our way into the building.
"You feel… smaller than I imagined…" She groaned as we made our way up a step.
I half-smiled. "You were sick on my Louboutins, remember?" I replied with false sternness. I felt her trembling more violently beneath me until she broke out in a deep, almost delirious laugh, and an amused grin spread across my face. She raised a hand to her chest to steady herself, snorting with laughter, before promptly throwing up in the hedge that we were walking past.
"Let's get you inside," I said quickly, shifting my grip on her to take more of her weight so we could move more briskly.
After what felt like a thousand steps up to flat twenty-two, I finally managed to get the key in the door and half-drag her inside. The flat was cold and I decided that that may be for the best given her high temperature. I tried to get her to the bedroom, but she seemed to have other ideas and flopped out of my grasp and onto the sofa as soon as we were close enough to it. She curled her legs up towards her, her face scrunched up in anguish and her breathing coming in short, shallow gasps.
"My head," she whimpered. "Everything. Everything hurts."
I looked over towards her sympathetically. "I know," I said softly, crouching down beside her so that her face was level with mine. I could see every line of her pain-stricken features, every delicate hair that lined her skin and could feel each sharp breath against my cheeks, and despite the current situation I couldn't help but feel my pulse quicken at such close proximity. "When did you last have any painkillers?"
She brought her hand up to cover her face as silent tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes. "Just before work," she whispered. "Five. Quarter past."
I looked at my watch. It was just gone quarter to nine. "Half an hour an you can have the next dose," I replied gently. "I'll leave you some with a glass of water on the coffee table so that you don't have to reach too far."
She nodded slowly, and I got up to go and find her some pills, quickly ordering myself a taxi in the process. She wouldn't want me here, I thought, so best to get out and let her sleep it off. I reached up into one of the cupboards for a glass tumbler and found the paracetamol in another. I popped two out of the packet, not wanting to leave her with the full set in case she got confused and took too many. I filled the glass with water and, as a afterthought, reached under the sink for the mop bucket, to set out in front of her in case she was sick again.
The bucket came into quick use, as almost the second I set it down before her she was violently ill once more. I quickly put the glass and the pills on the table and sat down on the sofa next to her, my hands gently pulling back her hair. It was at that awkward in-between stage where it was long enough to fall over her face, yet still too short to tie up, so I resolved instead to pull out my own bun and clip her hair back with a couple of bobby pins.
When she had finished she turned back to face the ceiling, resting her head on the new comfort of my thighs. She really was burning up, I noticed as her heat spread though the thin fabric of my work trousers and I laid my cool fingers across her forehead, feeling her wince against the contrast in temperature. I pursed my lips with concern.
"Do you have a thermometer?" I whispered gently to her, delicately running my fingers across her flushed cheek. She shook her head slightly. "You're really hot."
Her eyes opened slightly. "You're not so bad yourself," she murmured, a small smile creeping around the edge of her lips and her eyes glinting. I laughed, trying to fight the blood that was currently rushing to my cheeks.
"Now I really am worried about your health," I said warmly, my thumb gently tracing circles on her chin. "I think you're delirious."
"I'm perfectly…" She closed her eyes again with a frown as the sun suddenly shone brighter through the half-drawn curtains. "…Sound of mind, thank you," she finished with a deep breath.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest at these words, at the possibilities of them, and I found myself gazing searchingly into her pale features. Could it be possible that she felt for me as I did for her? My fingertips slowly trailed back across her cheeks, gently caressing her smooth skin before my thumb came to rest on her plump, slightly chapped lips.
How would it feel to have those on mine? I imagined as I softly traced her lips with the pad of my thumb. I almost ached for it and was mesmerised by the feel of the pink skin beneath my fingers. In my trance-like state, I almost jumped out of my skin when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I snatched my hand away, reaching quickly for my phone as her eyelids began to flutter open and she groaned in confusion.
"Taxi waiting," the voice at the other end of the phone announced simply. I assured them that I would be down in a couple of minutes and hung up, turning to the semi-conscious woman in my lap.
"That's my taxi," I said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you going to be okay?"
She sniffed. "Yes… I'm fine… just need… sleep," she mumbled, her eyes seemingly unable to stay open.
I gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Well, you know I'm only on the other end of the phone if you need anything. And you can take those painkillers in another fifteen minutes." I gently laid her head back down onto the sofa as I stood up and looked around for anything else she might need moved closer to her. There was nothing, so I said goodbye and turned to leave.
"Hang on," she said suddenly, her voice so feeble that I almost wondered if she was talking in her sleep. "I'm… I'm not f- fine, Connie… I- I feel terrible I can't… can't even lift my head I… I'm scared."
The sound of a weak sob escaping her lips was all I needed to convince me to stay. I shook off my jacket and returned to her side, gently lifting her head back onto my lap before linking my fingers through hers in comfort. "It's okay," I soothed. "What's scaring you? You're going to be all right." I saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes and quickly brushed them away, my hand resting in her hair once I had done so.
"I've never felt like this before," she whimpered. "The pain… it's killing me… I can't bear it." Her face was scrunched up in what seemed to be pure agony and her limbs were slack. Worry began to gnaw away in my stomach, wondering if I should call Charlie, but I decided to wait and see if her next dose of painkillers were effective. In the meantime, I kept my hand in hers, a reminder that I was still here and caring for her, even though her eyes struggled to stay open.
Ten minutes later and I could finally give her the second dose of paracetamol. "You're going to need to sit up to take these Rita," I said, speaking as softly as possible so as not to worsen her headache. She nodded slightly, seemingly making a move to raise herself off the sofa but to no avail.
"I feel like I'm… s- stuck in concrete," she wheezed, again gasping for breath with the effort. I place my hands beneath her arms and gently pull her up to a sitting position, leaning her against me when she seemed to flop. Using the hand that wasn't holding her up, I broke each tablet into two in order to make them easier for her to swallow and raised the first one to her lips.
"Open," I said softly, placing the tablet onto her tongue and quickly passing her the glass of water. She spluttered slightly, but eventually managed to get all four down. When I tried to lower her back on to the sofa she shook her head.
"I'll be sick," she slurred. I felt her leaning more insistently into me, and I wrapped my arms around her to move us both into a more comfortable position. She sat with her back to me in the end, her head resting on my shoulder and her hand linked with mine. She was sleeping now, and I took the time to take in the feeling of her body moulded to mine like this, as it may if we ever had a chance together. I imagined us both, watching trashy telly on this very sofa, cuddling and making out and laughing, carefree. I would give anything for that moment and I wished I could tell her but I just don't have the words. What if she rejected me, laughed in my face? I winced at the thought.
I gazed at her golden blonde hair in front of me, so close that I could almost taste its rich, fruity scent. It looked so smooth, so silky, that I felt compelled to reach up and touch it, to run my finger through it sensuously.
As I brushed the hair around her neck with my fingers, I couldn't help but place a gentle, tender kiss on the sensitive skin just behind her ear, and knowing she couldn't hear me, I finally admitted it.
"I think I'm in love with you," I whispered into her ear, my nose touching it ever so slightly. And that's when my heart suddenly stopped in my chest, my mind racing and shifting me into panic mode. When I pulled down the back of her top I saw the blotchy red marks at the bottom of her neck continued down her back and I swore under my breath, urgently reaching across for the glass with her water in it. I tipped the remains into the bucket at the side of the sofa, making sure it was completely empty before carefully pressing it against the red marks.
They didn't fade.
"Rita!" I shook her gently in an attempt to wake her, but all I received was a groan. "Rita wake up, we need to go to the hospital. Now."
After a couple of more forceful shakes I realised that she was unconscious and quickly lowered her onto the sofa and into the closest resemblant of the recovery position that I could manage whilst tapping away furiously at my phone.
"Emergency. Which service?"
"Ambulance please."
I tapped my feet as I conversed with the operator about Rita's condition, before hanging up as she informed me that it would take over ten minutes for the ambulance to arrive. I grabbed my coat from the back of the sofa, lifting Rita and wrapping it around her before lifting her over my shoulder and dashing towards her apartment door. It was on a latch, so I didn't need to worry about locking it behind me, so I rushed down the stairs of her apartment building as quickly as I could manage whilst bearing her full weight. My heart raced almost painfully in my chest, panic setting in fully now as we finally arrived at her car.
I put her on the back seat as it would be easier than trying to put a seatbelt around her lifeless form and jumped into the driving seat. As I started up the engine, I tapped Charlie's number into my phone and set it to loudspeaker, placing it on top of the dashboard before swiftly pulling out of her road.
"Charlie," I almost yelled as her answered the call. "Charlie it's Rita. She's unresponsive and has developed a rash on her back. Prep resus for suspected bacterial meningitis - we'll be there in five minutes. We'll need a trolley."
He quickly cut off the phone, setting off to gather the team for their incoming patient, and I growled impatiently at the queueing traffic at the lights just before the hospital. I cast a glance into the back seat to see how she was doing. Her skin was a pale grey colour, her eyes closed firmly and her neck becoming increasingly red and blotchy. I tightened my knuckles on the steering wheel.
I could have cried tears of joy when I saw the lights change to green. I put my foot down and soon enough I was pulling up outside the hospital doors, where Cal and Charlie both awaited our arrival. I braked violently, and was out of the car almost immediately as they came rushing towards us.
"She's been out around twenty minutes. I thought she was sleeping," I yelled to them as I lifted her from the back seat and half ran to meet the trolley. "She's had one gram of paracetamol half an hour ago. She needs fluids and IV Claforan, ASAP."
We burst through the doors to resus and were met with confused looks from the staff as they realised who we were wheeling in. I began to take her obs whilst Cal and Charlie took blood samples from her arm, fast-tracking them to the lab to either confirm or contradict my diagnosis. Although I would never show it, I am very proud of my team, and their work in that vital first few hours proved to me just how invaluable they all were.
Slowly, her obs began to improve as the steroid injection we gave her began to work to ease the swelling around her brain, and around fifteen hour later she began to come round.
I was by her side instantly, reaching out for her hand and not caring who saw me place a gentle kiss to it. She looked up at me in confusion, her eyes darting around the room to take in her surrounding.
"You contracted meningitis," I explained gently. "You were unconscious for a while. I thought you were a goner." I lifted my hand up to caress her cheek and felt her lean in to my touch, her eyes still barely open and her face relaxed. I saw her chest rise with a deep breath and how she with determination managed to open her eyes just enough for them to meet mine.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick and her bottom lip trembling. "For staying with me."
"Don't worry about that," I smiled, lifting my hand to smooth down her hair. "You know, truth be told, I quite enjoy your company. Even when you are barely conscious."
She laughed, her eyelids falling closed as her head rolled back on her pillow. Just then, Cal appeared at her door with her lab results.
"Got the bloods back," he said, with a look of relief on his face. "Good news. It's just viral. We should be able to discharge you tomorrow afternoon."
I let out a heavy breath that I hadn't even realised I had been holding and my lips turned upwards in a smile of relief.
"Do you have anyone that we can call for you?" He asked kindly. "You're going to need a bit of help around the house for a few days."
I saw her hesitate and quickly broke in. "I'll do it," I insisted, looking from her to Cal and back again. "I'll have to be off work for the next week anyway as I've been in such close contact with you. I can help you out. Is that okay?" I held my breath, examining her eyes for any sign of acceptance.
She looked at me searchingly for several moments, her eyes almost magnetic so that I couldn't turn away. She was so beautiful, and never failed to capture my every attention and make my heart ache.
"That's more than okay," she breathed, the warm air tickling my cheeks. I grinned at her, my eyes feeling slightly watery as I finally felt the emotions of the day.
Cal nodded to us. "I'll be back to redo your obs in an hour," he said, and we both thanked him before he turned to leave.
I sat with her for a while after that, talking to her and watching her drift in and out of sleep. Eventually, when she settled into what seemed to be a deeper slumber, I decided to go and get some coffee from the machine. Just as I had my hand on the door, I heard her croaky whisper.
"Connie," she said weakly, looking at me through half-closed eyes. "I heard you."
"Heard me what?" I replied quickly, my heart pounding uncomfortably in my chest as my mind raced to find anything that I had said to her in the past twenty-four hours that may have upset her.
She looked at me with half a smiled. "I think I'm falling in love with you too," she said softly. I held back a gasp, my chest trembling with the emotion evoked my her words and I saw, in the hazy meeting of our eyes, that she meant it.
She saw my grin and broke out in a happy laugh. "Now go and get some sleep," she said as firmly as she could manage to in her state. "I need you at your best if you're going to nurse me back to health."
I laughed too. "Nurse?!" I mocked, everything feeling light with my elation. She grinned back at me.
"Oh I'm sorry," she said hoarsely. "You can 'cardiothoracic surgeon' me back to health, then."
I saw the glint in her eyes, reassuring me that we were both on the same page and stepped back towards her. She looked up at me warmly, and I leaned over and placed a soft kiss to her lips for the very first time. I watched as her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips curled upwards in a lazy smile.
"I hope there's more where that came from," she whispered, and I beamed at her.
"Of course," I said happily, linking my fingers with hers. "When you're better."
She laughed. "Well that's motivation if ever I heard it," she replied, meeting my eyes with the softness of her own. "Go and rest."
I hesitated a moment, leaning down for another tender, heartfelt kiss before turning away and walking towards the door, my mind buzzing with gleeful thoughts of what was held in the days to come.
…I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now…
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think xx