Page 15 of Forever, Maybe
“Ready to go?” he asked, all cheery efficiency.
Nell sighed as she hauled herself out of the armchair, which creaked in protest beneath her retreating weight. Sitting down had been her first mistake; the chair’s warm embrace had almost convinced her to text Stephanie with some half-baked excuse.
He held out his hand and she took it, surrendering in relief to the man in charge, who did everything. Who didn’t need to know every single thing.
“You could always cancel,” he offered once they were outside, standing across from his maroon BMW 4 Series Grand Coupe. He’d bought it a few years back as a treat for himself. When Nell had floated the idea of personalised plates for Christmas—because men were impossible to shop for—he’d grimaced and said, “God, no,” much to her relief. A personalised plate, after all, was the universal signal for wanker.
“No, I can’t. I always swore I wouldn’t bethatfriend.”
“Fair enough,” he said opening the car door for her. “If it’s okay, I’ll drop you off at Bath Street?”
“Thanks. How did the interview go yesterday?” Nell asked, knowing Danny had been sweating over the journalist’s interest in writing a full-length feature on his business.
He waited until they’d pulled out of their gravel-lined driveway, glancing left and right to check for traffic, before answering. “Aye, fine. She started wi’ all the usual stuff: ‘How did you grow from a wee van selling sandwiches to running all these other vans and shops?’ Then she wanted to know about how you and I met.”
“Oh? And did you tell her how you wooed me with the best sandwich in the world?” she teased, sinking into the warm familiarity of their well-worn love story.
Cute boy offers cute girl a freebie, then cheekily asks her out. The Officially Sanctified Story of Nell and Daniel.
“She was more interested in the bit after,” he replied, smirking. “The part where I had to chase you down the street because we hadnae agreed a time.”
Nell raised an eyebrow, amused. “Mmm. Did you tell her about our first date?”
“Nah.” He shot her a glance in the rearview mirror, a conspiratorial grin tugging at his lips. “Kept that to myself.”
For a moment, they shared a smile. The memory flickered to life—crinkled edges and all—filling the car with a phantom hint of Febreze. The nostalgic warmth washed over, briefly drowning out the weight of Thursday’s White Lightning photograph, leaving it blank and distant, exactly where Nell wanted it.
She placed her hand on this thigh and squeezed hard, enjoying the feel of his muscles as he shifted gears and grinned at her again, turning him into his the twenty-year-old self, the guy whose body responded to the slightest touch. She related the story of how he had ordered her to wait for him on her hands and knees while an entire restaurant’s customers listened in, and he raised an eyebrow, Roger Moore like.
“Let’s do that for real on Sunday morning, eh?”
He pulled the BMW over just before the second set of lights on Bath Street, and she hopped out of the car.
“Have a nice night. Phone me when you want picked up. The speeches and the glad-handing should be over by eleven o’clock.”
She leant in through the open passenger door window, kissing her fingers and touching them to his hand. “Thank you. Enjoy your night too.”
The car pulled away, Danny’s jaunty wave still visible in the rear window. He was a good man, a good, good man. One she didn’t deserve. And, as if on cue, the imaginary conversation she’d rehearsed countless times over the years came creeping back, uninvited.
Danny…
Aye?
So, there’s this thing I need to tell you. It’s… well, it’s a big one. Should’ve told you ages ago, but I…
Nell? Jesus, just spit it out—what is it?
Then she told him. And even though it was a scenario conjured entirely in her head, the ending never changed. His face twisted, eyes screwed up, jaw shifting as he tried to make sense of it. Finally, the words would come, sharp and accusing:What the fuck? But Nell, you always said…
She swallowed hard, the sting of the imaginary scene lingering, when she spotted Stephanie barrelling up Buchanan Street’s gentle slope, waving as if directing traffic.
The conversation was hastily stuffed back into its usual hiding place—the overflowing bin of things you bury to protect yourself—and she forced a bright smile onto her face.
Chapter five
April2016
A lone piper stood outside the Marriot Hotel, cranking out a whiny welcome as the Taste of Scotland’s guests walked past. Daniel checked the time, nodding a greeting when he spotted Joe jumping out of a black cab, and sprinting around to the other side of the vehicle to let Nicky out.
