Page 119 of The Truth About You and Me
Us. He said us. My heart is pounding so hard I fear I might crack a rib. ‘I said goodbye because I thought I couldn’t give you a full and happy life?—’
‘But what if the only way I can have that… is by being with you?’ he asks, stepping closer, eyes fixed on me. ‘Even if we drive each other nuts on occasion. Even if it’snotperfect. God knows I’m not.’
‘But I think you are, Jack. I think you are perfect.’
‘I snore.’ He moves a little closer.
‘I sneeze when I’m full.’ I step closer.
‘I’m moody.’ Another step.
‘I’m a morning person.’ We’re almost touching now.
‘I can’t stand it when people crack the spines of books.’
‘I like cracking the spines of books.’
He scrunches one eye, flinching.
‘That was a deal-breaker huh?’ I ask, chewing my lip.
He moves closer still, a fraction of space between us.
‘No one is perfect.’ He’s so close now that I can feel the warmth from his skin, smell that familiar hint of clove and vanilla. ‘But maybe we are perfect together?’
Yep. Definitely going to crack a rib. ‘Do you think so?’
‘I do. And if we don’t at least try to live a perfectly imperfect life together, I think we will regret it for the rest of our lives.’
‘I think…’ My voice cracks. ‘I think my whole life, I have been making my way to you.’
‘Sostay. I mean, of all the bookshops in all the world, you did walk into this one…’
He leans forward, a hand hesitating by my cheek, ready to wipe away the tears falling down my face.
‘For fuck’s sake, Jack—’ Nell says despite the children at the back of the room. ‘Just kiss her already.’
He smiles, slowly, and looks into my eyes.
‘May I?’
I wrap my hands around his neck.
I love you.
His lips brush gently across mine, and there’s that tug, that invisible thread that latches me to him. We lean into the kiss, warm, desperate, relieved, passionate, his strong arms holding me tightly. He pulls me flush against him, lifting me from the ground, turning me around slowly. There are whoops and cheers and claps behind us, but all I can hear is my own heart beating, my own words:
I am loved. I am loved. I’m loved.
EPILOGUE
MAGGIE
Charl has her arm linked through mine as we push through the crowds lining Fifth Avenue. The September sun is high in the sky skimming above the skyline. Across the road, leaves flicker and glint in the warm autumn sun. Behind me, tall buildings scrape the skyline, Greta’s hand clamped in mine.
‘He’s going to miss it!’ I cast a hurried glance around me, popping up on tiptoes to find him but there is no sign. The parade started fifteen minutes ago. Bagpipers have piped past; a marching band drummed their way along the avenue, snare drums and the sound of feet marching echoing around the crowds. Jack had to take an urgent call, something about the new extension of Chadwick’s the Third. His first shop stateside. Flags wave as lederhosen-clad men and women dressed in Oktoberfest outfits are throwing sweets from the raised float being pulled along by a station wagon.
The atmosphere is buzzing. Families, from all walks of life, are leaning over the barriers as the floats pass by: some with disco music playing and dancers on the small platforms; others with cartoon characters: a giant Sonic the Hedgehog and the cast ofFrozen; all waving flags, giving out pretzels and sweets to the crowd as they move further along the avenue.
