Page 24 of The Love of Our Lives

In the morning, it takes me a little longer to come to and, for a moment, I feel something like terror.

Has it all stopped?

Has Adam gone?

Then I roll to the side and I see the clock and the dreamcatcher, and I heave a sigh of relief. Because if I’m honest with myself, I’d be devastated if I was back in my old life right now with my quiet existence and Mum checking in on me every two seconds. I’m not ready to go yet.

Then last night all comes back to me and I press my eyes tightly shut at the awful way we’d parted in the end.

But how had that happened? It had all been going so well, with the perfect evening up on the terrace and the lens he’d given me for my camera. That magic kiss under the night sky.

We’d kept kissing later, I remember, back down on his bed.

It was like once the tap had opened between us, it wouldn’t stop, and it had felt like the most natural thing in the world, his mouth on my mouth, my neck, the perfect weight of him on top of me, for a time.

But although everything in me had screamed for more, there was something still stopping me, and I’d found myself pulling back sharply.

‘Are you OK?’ he’d asked hoarsely, pulling back too.

I’d nodded in the darkness, but internally I had felt the anxiety rushing up again.

‘It’s all right,’ he’d said softly. ‘We have all the time in the world to get to that.’

And I’d wished to God that were true.

‘Are you still coming up to Aberdeen with me tomorrow? I leave at nine,’ he’d said at the door just before I’d left. He’d been standing in the dim light, bare-chested, his hair tousled from where my hands had been in it, and it had taken all my willpower just to take a step away.

‘I’m not sure,’ I’d said finally. ‘I told Fran I’d help her finalise some honeymoon stuff. I can’t let her down.’

I had felt Adam pausing and my heart had bled for him – for me too. But all I could think of was the pain I’d gone through after Nick left, of that feeling of being left behind like that.

‘Are you sure that’s it?’ he’d said, frowning slightly now, and I’d known he’d seen right through my lie.

‘Well,’ I’d started, ‘the thing is, I just don’t want to get into something here, if one of us is only going to leave at the end of it. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.’

His eyes had sparkled. ‘And were you planning on leaving tonight?’

‘No,’ I’d said slowly, ‘but who knows what could happen; I might go back to . . . London, or you might decide to disappear off somewhere.’

A cloud had crossed his features then. ‘And who said anything about me disappearing off?’

I’d paused. ‘Well, Sven said you would usually be away travelling by now.’

‘Just because I usually do something, doesn’t mean I always do, Emily,’ he’d said, but there had been a distance in his words, something I hadn’t been able to quite read. ‘Can’t we just take things as they come? Enjoy it.’

I’d raised my eyebrows. ‘See, you don’t even know what you want. How do you know you won’t change your mind? You said yourself you go where the wind takes you.’

Adam had pulled one hand through his hair. ‘Look, of course I can’t promise anything; I mean, who can? But all I know was that tonight was amazing, and I’d like to keep seeing you.’

A silence had settled between us, and I’d seen his chest lifting up and down. All I’d wanted to do was go to him again, disappear under his covers and stay there. But even he couldn’t give me any assurance.

‘Tonight was great,’ I’d said slowly, steadily, ‘but I just don’t know if I can do this again, if it might all end tomorrow.’

And as his hands slipped from mine, I’d had the oddest feeling of déjà vu. Like I’d had these exact same concerns, in this same place, once before. But when I’d looked up, Adam had been shaking his head, and I’d known something had shifted in him.

‘Clearly you’ve decided what’s going to happen here already, Emily, so if that’s the case, then maybe we should just leave it.’

‘Fine,’ I’d said, even as my chest exploded with pain at his words.

‘Fine,’ he’d said, and a moment later he’d turned to go back inside, his shoulder blades stiff as he’d moved. At the last second, he’d stared back out at me, and I’d allowed myself to look at his face again, at those startling eyes and the worried tension across his strong jawline.

Then he’d shut the door, and after briefly closing my eyes, I’d turned and disappeared back across the hall.

Now, as the clock ticks over to 7 a.m. beside me, I try to decide what to do about the trip up north.

Only two hours until he leaves.

Outside on the freezing pavement a little later, I run quickly away down the quiet, lamp-lit road, the dawn light only just starting to rise over the shivering buildings.

I let the cold air hit my skin, hoping that it somehow blows away the intense pull I’m feeling towards Adam.

I keep to the busy, safe part of the city, and as I stamp forwards alone, I wish with all my heart that I could just stop being so afraid all the time.

Just let go, like other people do.

But the deeper I get into this with Adam, the harder it will be for everyone to get out painlessly.

I loop the Meadows a few times, head down against the cold, before stopping at Victor Hugo for a coffee. Sitting completely alone at the little tables outside, the light rising higher in the sky, I watch it all go by again – the couples, the friends, runners.

I’m just getting up to head home when I see her, sitting down at a table across from me.

A woman.

She’s dressed all in grey, her red hair tied back, face pale and drawn under her black woollen hat. And she’s all alone. Her movements are slow, her breathing clearly laboured.

My heart is beating so fast right now. And that’s when she looks up, clocks me too, and it’s like I’m caught on a line.

Frozen in a moment.

She looks at me curiously, almost sadly, before glancing back down at her menu, and I watch as she gives her order to the waitress, almost murmuring it under my breath in time with her – green tea and a water.

I calculate when exactly this is. November, almost eight months before the heart transplant.

From here on in, she’s going to go downhill, struggling, shuffling, towards an operation, which will ultimately save her but still leave her in a very limited position.

This was the last time she came up this way to get some art supplies.

Then I look down at the neon running gear I’m wearing, the thick croissant on my plate and the milky coffee to the side.

I think of the flat I’m living in and the photos I’ve been taking.

I think of the friends I’ve made and these moments of absolute joy I’ve experienced.

I think of the rooftop with Adam last night.

Those incredible kisses under the night sky, then later in his bedroom.

And I know I can’t go back to it, won’t go back to it, that life where I have to be scared all the time. Where I can’t actually do anything or go anywhere without worrying about my impact on everyone. Where I can’t fall in love in case I hurt them.

Or myself.

And maybe Emily didn’t even want it, this life? Maybe that’s actually the reason I’m here, and I can keep it a bit longer?

Maybe I can keep it forever.

And with that, I get up quickly and run away as fast as I possibly can.

When I get to the top of the steps, almost breathless from sprinting up, I knock hard on his door.

Please don’t be gone yet, please don’t be gone.

But I’m met with silence.

With a heavy heart, I sit down on the floor in the space between our doors. Why did I have to start on at him about his travelling? Why did I have to push him away like that, like I didn’t really care?

I care about him more than I have about any man before. And maybe he’s right, maybe we don’t need to know exactly what’s going to happen tomorrow. Maybe we can enjoy this space right now and simply take things as they come.

I just wish I could tell him all of this.

But he’ll be well on the road up north by now, probably regretting the whole of last night now.

I just need to speak to him when he gets back, explain myself.

I sit like that for a while, trying to figure out what to do, when I hear a noise beside me and I turn sharply to see Adam leaving his flat.

He’s wearing a black fleece, jeans, his hair darkly wet like he’s just out the shower.

The two of us look at each other for a moment, before I get up and walk over to him.

‘Emily,’ he starts, like he’s about to launch into something, but before he does, I go up and kiss him square on the lips.

He hesitates for only a moment, before I feel him sinking into it, his arms surrounding me.

And there is no explaining, and no getting into all the past trauma and scars of our lives, because time is short and right here right now is all that matters.

When I finally pull back in my nylons, he looks down at me, his green eyes on mine.

‘Good run then?’

‘The best,’ I say, and he grins.

We head on to the road to Aberdeen soon after, and as we cross over the Forth Road Bridge, its incredibly tall spokes whizzing by above, I find myself exhaling as we leave the city, and my old self, behind.

‘You OK?’ Adam says softly, glancing across at me.

And in that moment, I know that I am. Because I’m still with him, and we can go wherever we want to go and do whatever we want to do. I’m not focusing on what happens if he leaves, or I leave, or who could get hurt. Because the point is, we’re here together now, and that’s enough.

‘Yes,’ I say, and put my hand on his leg firmly. We spend the rest of the drive like that. My hand on his knee, with his hand on top, his eyes flicking across to me from time to time.