Day 2, prompt 4.

15th December (Tuesday)

Edward

The room is dark. At this time of year it seems to be dark all the time – wake in the dark, go to work in the dark, come home in the dark. Daylight becomes a precious commodity, enjoyed in five-minute snatches as I glance up from my work.

Rose is still sleeping, her face hidden behind a tangle of blonde hair. I push it back and she scowls in her sleep, turning her face into the pillow. I smile and slide out of bed, careful not to push the covers back too far, trying to disturb her as little as possible. The air is cold, but I love the contrast to the too-hot bed, where I've been smothered by Rose's piles of blankets all night. I wander downstairs, jumping over the bottom step, which always creaks loud enough to wake the dead.

The kitchen floor is freezing under my feet, but I don't care. I am happy this morning, thinking of my beautiful Rose sleeping upstairs, thinking of her warm willingness last night. I can't help smiling as I make breakfast for us both. She's always so strong, so forthright, always challenging me in everything I do, so it was a huge surprise when she capitulated so easily to my hopefulness in the middle of the night. I hadn't truly expected her to, which was only more of a turn-on. I love this woman so much. So much more than any other woman, ever.

Who would have thought we would come so far, so fast? We met only a few months ago, when we were both at yet another fundraising function – she to donate, on behalf of her employer, and me to try to win over the big cheeses holding the cash.

You'd think research into heart disease wouldn't need to stoop so low, but apparently people can't be relied upon to cough up just from a sense of duty or consideration for the good of the species. . Everyone in the lab had been coerced into attending this dull dinner and be (as our crazy lab manager, Victoria, said) "fascinating and beautiful". As the only single man under the age of thirty-five in the department, all the women had decided that I should be prised away from the laboratory, dressed up and paraded out to woo the female purse-string-holders. They'd made me turn up early, and had rearranged the knot of my tie and irritated me until my face had settled into the not-quite frown they all said was "hot". I didn't get it, and I certainly didn't understand why me being pissed off before the benefactors even got here would be a good idea. It turned out that they were right, though. Not in the way they hoped, perhaps, but it had worked for me.

Rose had been one of the last to arrive, and by then the not-quite frown had deepened into an almost-scowl. I was never any good at small talk, and had retreated into a deserted corner of the room with a drink, hoping for a few minutes of peace and quiet. She had pushed through the door right beside me, looked me up and down, and walked away without saying a word, her hips swaying under a long red dress, teetering on sky-high heels. I'd watched her go, partly thankful that my peace was still unbroken, and partly annoyed that she'd not even greeted me.

I was still trying to decide whether I was more grateful or more irritated when she returned, holding a glass of wine. She took my Coke from my hand, and pushed the wine at me.

"You looked like you needed something stronger," she said.

I fell for her there and then. I don't even remember the rest of that evening, though the night remains clear in my mind. I remember leaving in a taxi, in a hurry, with her holding my hand as we climbed out of the car and up the stairs to my front door. I remember how I'd pulled her to me, and how those shoes had lain abandoned in my hallway. I remember kissing her again and again and again, and I remember how it felt to be inside her, not just that time, but every time since then. Every time, it is wonderful. Every time it is different, and every time it is perfect. Every time I cannot wait until the next time.

I can't help myself. I'm in love. I smile to myself, wanting to run up the stairs and ask her the question I've been pondering on for weeks. I want to wait until Christmas Day, but the closer it gets the harder it is to stop myself just blurting it out.

As I've been daydreaming, the sun has crept back into the world, and I realise that the snow that was falling last night is still falling, and doesn't appear to have stopped. Well. We can be snowed in, maybe. Making our own entertainment could be fun... The sunlight on the snow brightens the kitchen, and it only improves my mood. I carry the breakfast upstairs to Rose, and find myself singing as I climb the stairs and walk into the room. She is awake by now, sitting up in bed and looking unsettled by my cheerfulness..

"Tidings of comfort and joy, my darling." I grin widely at her, and hand her a plate. "You can join in, if you like. Shame it's not the Feast of Stephen yet, or it would be like living in a carol."

She looks at me blankly, and raises an eyebrow. It's clear to me she has no idea what I'm talking about, or maybe she's just pretending not to understand me. Who knows. She can be quite grumpy first thing in the morning. Just one more thing I love about her.

"When the snow lay round about? Deep and crisp and even?"

She is unimpressed, and I end up singing several carols on my own as we get up and get dressed. Even though Rose is clearly intending to go to work rather than stay in bed all day, using the snow as an excuse, it's not enough to dampen my mood. There's an odd expression on her face as I sing through one verse. "The hopes and fears of all the years" - she can't know my plans, can she? All my hopes, and, if I'm honest, all my fears, are pinned on her, on her answer to the one question that I'm saving for another ten days. For a moment I'm assailed by doubt, as the fears outweigh the hopes. But no. She is my everything. I love her beyond anything I've ever imagined, and I'm sure she'll say yes. I can't wait.

I hold her in a fierce hug before we leave for work, and kiss her, smiling. One morning down, nine more to go.