Ed took a step forward, light from the streetlamp outside illuminating his features. ‘Hi Rosie.’
I froze. ‘Ed? What are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you.’
‘Did Nate send you?’
‘In a way, yes.’
‘Where is he?’
Ed frowned. ‘I have no idea.’
I struggled for words. ‘But—the flowers?’
He shrugged self-consciously. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I couldn’t create something myself—you’d have rumbled me straight away—so I chose Turner’s. They’re new, so I was pretty certain you wouldn’t have heard of them. At Christmas it was a kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, you know? I wanted to give you something but I didn’t know whether I was ready for you to know—uh—what was going on.’
‘But—but I thought they were—’
‘From Nate? Yeah, I realised that the moment you told Marnie and me about it. That’s why he made a reference to them at the wedding—he was going to explain who sent them. You have him to thank for my being here, actually. You’re all we talked about when we met up. He told me he had feelings for you, but he said he knew your heart belonged to someone else. So, we planned all this and he set the wheels in motion when he spoke to you.’
‘You did this—to deceive me?’ I could feel my defences building.
Ed’s face fell. ‘No, Rosie, never to deceive you.’
Tears stung my eyes. How dare Ed play games with me, after everything he’d seen me go through? The last thing I needed was to be yet another name on his never-ending list of dates—another fleeting past-time to divert his attention. Incensed, I turned on my heels and made for the door. ‘Goodbye.’
‘I love you!’
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. So there I stood, my hand still gripping the door handle, my heart in my mouth and my breath coming in short, sharp bursts as I fought back tears.
‘I love you, Rosie Duncan.’ His voice was soft and low, barely more than a whisper. ‘I’ve loved you from the first moment we met and I haven’t stopped loving you every day since. For so long I hid it—pretty well, it would seem—and I thought it would always be that way. But then—then I woke up one morning and I realised: I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone before. And it’s hard for me to admit it, because it means I’m not the cool, in-control guy I like to think I am. It means I must finally concede defeat in the self-sufficiency stakes. It means I have to bare my own heart, and risk it being thrown back in my face. But there’s one thing I’m certain of: I love you, Rosie, with a love that sets me on fire each day and keeps me awake at night. So here I am: a melting iceberg in the middle of Kowalski’s.’
Tentatively, I let go of the door handle and faced him. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling quickly in the streetlamp spotlight. Moving closer I could see the battle within him painting his face.
‘No, well, you wouldn’t. I am the master of clever side-steps, remember?’ A tear glistened in the glow of the fairy lights as it travelled smoothly over the contours of his face, leaving a silver streak marking his cheek. He brushed it away with an irritated swipe of his hand. ‘I’m sorry. Whoever thought the great Ed Steinmann was such a sap?’
‘So why did you decide to tell me now?’
Sadness coloured his eyes as he smiled. ‘Believe it or not, I was following the advice of a good friend.’
‘Nate?’
‘You.’
‘Me?’
‘You said it, Rosie: unless I tell her, I’ll never find out if she feels the same way.’
‘Then I’m the Specific Someone?’
‘Yes, you are.’
And there it was. Such a simple sentence, yet the brevity of it hit me with hurricane force. For months Ed’s mention of his Specific Someone had rankled with me inexplicably; I’d dismissed it as envy at a friend moving on. But the truth was, I was jealous—not of Ed falling in love, but of the woman who had stolen his heart. When he appeared to be drifting from me, the reason it hurt so much was that it seemed to confirm how much he didn’t want me. And even walking here tonight, when I thought I was thinking about Nate, Ed was the one who, in fact, claimed most of my thoughts. It was his opinion of me I cared most for; his support and time I valued more than anyone’s; his friendship I most covetously guarded.
It was time to face the truth.
Stepping forward bravely, I reached out my hand and, with trembling fingers, stroked the tears from his cheek. I felt his arms around me, pulling me closer, felt his breath brushing my face like a warm summer breeze.
‘I want to love you, Rosie. I want to show you how love should be and let you melt me completely. And every hurt, every wound your heart has suffered over the years, I want to heal with my kisses, every day, for ever.’
‘Oh, Ed…’
New York froze around us as his lips met mine—a hundred million questions answered in a single heartbeat. At that moment, Ed became everything: hands and lips, bodies and breath, hearts and souls. I lost myself in his embrace, the warmth of his love enveloping me like a blanket. And I knew. I knew I was home.
When we finally broke apart, I gazed into his eyes and I saw Ed Steinmann for the very first time.
I saw a man who looked like he was in love…
This city is not mine by birthright: yet New York chose to make me belong. It has soothed my pain, reignited my dreams and resurrected my hope. Deep within its vibrant heart, I found my own. And this is where my heart will stay for ever.