Aaaaand...' Iain said, drawing out the first syllable in the word, which Lily giggled at.
'Like the idiot I am, I've left them in the car. Don't go anywhere.' He smiled, turning and leaving her apartment.
She was glad for the few seconds of space that his forgetfulness gave her; she could compose herself fully in his absence. Sitting down on the sofa, she caught sight properly of the piles of gifts that sat on the carpet. She'd been well and truly showered. Some cute things, but mostly things he knew she'd appreciate. A portable phone charger and socks (for him as much as her, since he found himself with odd socks more and more. She had discovered his socks were comfortable and had taken a shine to wearing them. He'd let her, willingly, but many had strayed since).
As much as she felt overwhelmed, she also felt embarrassed. A card and a bottle of wine was her effort for him. Valentine's Day seemed nothing more than a clichéd excuse to spoil your partner. To her, she felt appreciation should be shown every day in ways that money couldn't buy. Still, she went along with it. Partly because she felt inclined, but also because she knew he would. They had to be even and fair. She assumed he'd do something silly yet apt - flowers weren't really his thing. He always moaned about them wilting too soon. He'd told Lily before jokingly that if she'd wanted flowers, he'd go pick some of his own for free. She didn't see it as being tight-fisted, more practical.
At no point would she ever grieve the bestowal of 2 supermarket flowers. They were associated with too many negative feelings. Guilt, nervousness, regret. It was as if people thought putting them in a vase on the windowsill would magic happiness, like all the bright colours in daffodils and carnations could zap out the melancholy in life. That was what her father had thought. She grew up in a home where such things were gladly received, and they made things better in an instant. But not now, Lily thought. Not now.
He flung open the door and it hit the wall with a bang.
'What on earth?!' She gave a little laugh, cheeks tinging pink at the sheer anguish borne out of the lengths he'd gone to. Her eyes hovered to the brown, medium-sized cardboard box in his arms. His own face reddened, beads of perspiration forming on his brow.
'You are no less of a man if you put it down. It is clearly heavy.' She observed.
'Nah nah, I'm fine.' He lied, as his voice came gasping in bursts.
'Put it down!' She told him, giggling. He paused, gave a nod and bent to put it on the floor. As soon as it left his fingertips, they both heard a loud thud. She jumped slightly.
'I need to get back to the gym.' He gave a laugh, before wiping his forehead.
'What do you have in there?' She asked.
'Wouldn't you like to know?' He replied with a smirk that said he was pleased with himself.
'Yes, actually!'
Iain just chuckled, finding it cute how she never failed to miss sayings or phrases that were meant in jest.
'This is first.' He wrenched the heavy-looking antique out the box.
'What is that?' She asked, brows knitting together.
'I'm chuffed you're so grateful.'
'I am! I just don't know what it is.' She admitted.
'It's a record player.' He sighed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
'Early 20th Century?' She asked.
'You got it.' He smiled.
'I'm intrigued.' She tucked her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth slightly in anticipation.
'Some old records. Might be a load of rubbish, but grandad passed them to me when he died several years ago. I picked them up two years ago, and there was a note inside the box. When I'd listened to them all, he wanted me to pass them on to someone I loved.' He shrugged, with a small smile.
Her eyes hovered over his face, watching him react. The gesture meant a lot to her, but the declaration of love meant so much more. 'The records that go with it in the box.' He said. 'I don't know, give it a listen. Might not do anything for you-'
'Iain. It is a lovely gesture. Thank you for everything.' She said, eyes brimming with love.
'There's one last thing too. Well, I say one. Let me show you.' He said. She fiddled with the wool on her jumper while he searched around in the box.
'Here.' He produced another smaller box, presenting it to her. She took it with some hesitation, supporting it carefully between her two hands. 'It's not fragile.' He added, noticing her gentle approach.
Upon removing the lid, Lily saw a pile of brown envelopes tied together by string. Before even inspecting them, her eyes glanced up to meet his. He nodded, earnestly, giving her permission she sought to go on.
'Read the paper on top.' He said, so she picked it up and did.
'These letters are in order of how you should open them. For once, take heed of instruction!
1 - For when you lose a patient
2 - For when you save apatient
3 - Our first real fight
4 - When you don't want to miss me anymore
5 - When you're overwhelmed
6 - When you're truly exhausted
7 - When you need to know why I love you
8 - When you're doubting and want to give up
9 - When I've hurt you
10 - At night when you want to be held
11 - When you need a laugh
12 - If you're embarrassed
13 - A secret or two
14 - After we've had a good day
15 - For when you've opened all the others
'Sorry for the cheese x'
Lily giggled at the last line.
'This is ridiculously cute.' Her brown eyes glittered, causing him to drop his to the floor and smile.
'Well.' He shrugged, eyes still on the floor
'Well nothing.' She shook her head lightly, struggling to see how he could even feel remotely embarrassed. 'Thank you. My bottle of wine and card looks pathetic now.'
'Not at all. You know me well. In fact, I say we crack it open now.' His smile broadened, as did hers.
'You will be the death of me. Literally. Sclerosis.' She muttered.
He laughed, as he got up from the sofa to hunt for the wine he'd left in the kitchen. 'You are mad.'
'I drink more alcohol with you than ever before!' She protested.
'It's hardly every night. Just special occasions. And this...' He was by her side before she knew it, leaning to brush her lips with his. 'Is almost certainly a special occasion.'
As he poured generously into the glasses, she eyed the floor. It had never been as cluttered, but she had never loved the sight of mess so much.