Page 50 of A Copenhagen Snowmance

Chapter Thirty-Four

The flight is delayed. Of course it is. Given this trip, she wonders how she hadn’t expected it.

There’s heavy fog in Gatwick and they’re waiting for it to lift.

But even before this, her exit has been hampered.

First her baggage conveyor-belt broke, with her suitcase inconveniently out of reach so she couldn’t transfer it to another.

Once she’d been helped and moved on to Security, her bag had failed the X-ray, due to a so-small-it-took-ages-to-locate bottle of hand gel she’d forgotten to transfer out.

Some might suggest her resolve is being tested.

As soon as she’s through to airside, she bypasses all her favourite shops to find a seat, and pulling out her phone, she takes a deep breath and calls Jamie.

She needs to tell him she is sorry, that she didn’t mean what she said, that she should never have uttered the words.

If she has hope of ever breathing comfortably again, she needs to apologise.

She understands that he won’t speak to her after, that the damage is done, but she will at least have told him she is sorry.

It rings out. He’s not picking up her call. Staring at the screen, she gets it. She understands. She didn’t take Carl or Maiken’s calls either once.

She starts a text, but no matter what she writes, it’s not enough and she deletes it time and again. This apology needs to be spoken; the hurt came from spoken words, the remorse should come that way too.

Dejected, she buys her hot dog and her Cocio chocolate milk, then moves on to Ole easily more a Morfar than a Carl, on Anna’s limited spectrum of reference.

And it makes her wonder whether he might be right about other things, too.

Could the possibility of fortune supersede her past misfortune?

Like Katrine said, the broken heart can be an open heart.

Jamie certainly filled hers for the last two weeks.

Perhaps it is time to put the humiliation behind her, as it’s another thing which isn’t serving her.

It isn’t making her feel better holding onto it.

Anna blows out a long deep breath in an effort to let it go.

“You really have everything on that hot dog, haven’t you?

” says a voice from the adjacent chair and she nearly chokes.

Staring so hard out of the window, she hasn’t sensed anyone take the seat.

Her head swings to her right and there he is.

Jamie. Sitting there, right next to her, his big coat on and his rucksack at his feet.

“What are you doing here?!” She’s shocked, but also elated, but then also fully ashamed.

Perhaps he’s here to give her an earful.

She’d take it. “I mean … Jamie, what I said to you. I absolutely didn’t mean that.

I should never ever have said it. I am so sorry.

Please forgive me.” She looks into his beautiful eyes, hoping not to see hate there. Hate would slay her.

“Anna—”

“No, please hear me out. What I said was appalling. So bad. I don’t even know why I suddenly felt the need to defend Ida, but to do it like that was awful. I am sorry, and I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

Jamie studies her, somewhat less angry than she expects and would understand.

It’s sort of like he’s drinking her face in, truth be told.

He sighs a deep sigh, then says, “Didn’t we already agree that people do mad things when they’re emotional?

” Yes, they might have discussed that in the last fortnight.

“Your apology is accepted.” Well, that has gone far better than she has spun in her head.

Maybe there is something to this facing things thing after all.

“I called you. To apologise,” she adds, wanting him to know she’d tried sooner.

He digs his phone from a pocket and sees the missed calls. “There was a queue at the X-ray machines. You must have rung then.”

Which brings her back to her original question.

“Why are you here, Jamie?”

“There’s more I needed to say.”

“But how did you get in here?” She waves her hand around at the departures lounge in case he still doesn’t understand.

“I got a ticket. A return. I’ll fly back tomorrow. I’m hoping there’s a good Samaritan who’ll let me stay.” He bats his lashes at her, and she tries very hard not to smile, all the self-loathing easing now.

“There’s fog at Gatwick,” she says dully. “No flights in at the moment.”

“That’s OK,” he says, upbeat. “My flight’s to Heathrow.”

This could be the last straw, that he flies to London, and she doesn’t.

“How did you even get a ticket, Jamie? It’s taken me weeks.”

“I … um, called a friend,” he says, looking shifty.

“You and your friends!” She barks a laugh, because it’s astounding how quickly he has made himself a useful network, but then the laugh stops in her mouth. “Hang on, if you had a friend, then why didn’t you call them for me?”

His shiftiness turns to shame.

“At first, I didn’t think of it. Honestly. I swear. Izabela’s more a friend of a friend. And then when I did, I sort of … didn’t want to.”

Will she be banned from the airport if she lumps him one right now? It wouldn’t be unfitting in this mad chain of events if she lands in a police cell, too. Little would surprise her now.

“So, all this time, you were deliberately not helping me?”

“I think that depends on your point of view.” He’s sounding quite defensive.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. I think by delaying you I was helping you fall back in love with Copenhagen.”

“I don’t think you succeeded there.” As she says it, it doesn’t sound quite right in her mouth.

“You might not realise it yet, but wait until you get back to London and see how your apartment is decorated with Danish things, how you go to Danish events, how you miss it.”

“Deluded,” she mutters under her breath, knowing he’s bang on.

“And can you really blame me for wanting to spend more time with you? I didn’t keep you from your work. You had no dependants who needed you.”

“It’s like I was kidnapped and didn’t know,” she says to no one in particular.

“Hardly,” he scoffs. “You had a door key and went to Julefrokost.”