I had sat on the edge of Hope’s desk with my fingers and toes crossed when she had hit send on the proposal. Now, we simply had to wait.
With the Christmas issue done and dusted last week and with everyone’s efforts this morning, Hope wants everyone to take it easy over the next few days, to enjoy their time off over the holidays and come back feeling fresh and rejuvenated, if we have something to come back to that is. She nipped out to the bakery at lunch and bought a delicious selection of treats for everyone and I can see them through my window all mingling and chatting over gingerbread doughnuts and peppermint coffees. I’m finishing up some emails when the clock ticks closer to three p.m. I find my fingers hovering over my keyboard as I’m in the middle of emailing Autumn to thank her and Mrs Bride for this morning and to give them an update when I get a now or never kind of idea that I need to run by Hope.
‘Do you fancy taking a trip to New York with me?’ I ask, pulling up Google and typing in flights to New York.
‘I could maybe swing it as a business trip for the both of us next year; it will just depend on if we get the go-ahead and then how everything goes with the January issue and if we’re still in business,’ Hope tells me, shuffling around some design ideas on her desk and then tapping her mouse to refresh her screen for the twentieth time to check her emails.
I scroll through some of the options that come up on my screen to see if my spontaneous plan is actually doable. ‘I wasn’t talking about next year, I was thinking of maybe taking a trip, say, tomorrow,’ I reveal to her. She drops all the papers on her desk and rushes to my side.
‘Oh my gosh, yes, you should go. That’s such a romantic idea and at Christmas time too – it will be the perfect apology.’ She swoons.
‘So, you’re coming?’ I say, feeling relieved that she doesn’t think I’m crazy.
‘No, I’m afraid I can’t but you need to go. You can do this on your own. Wait a minute,’ she says, throwing a finger in the air before rushing back over to her desk and frantically typing at her keyboard. My stomach sinks. New York is not Springhollow. New York is concrete buildings, high-rise offices, fast-paced, fast-talking, sophisticated men and women who travel around via subway. How does one work out those subway maps or cope being crammed into spaces when they are used to Springhollow’s fresh air and walking everywhere? I gulp, not quite sure this is a good idea if Hope can’t come with me.
‘You really can’t come?’ I try one more time.
‘I really can’t. I might be picking up a dog tomorrow from the shelter,’ she tells me casually, like it’s no big deal.
‘You’re what? No way.’ I gasp, swivelling my chair around. Hope clicks at her mouse and then looks up at me, biting at her bottom lip. ‘You could look more excited,’ I say, using her words from earlier this morning against her.
‘Oh, I am, I am,’ she says, flapping her hands up and down. ‘I will be fine once I get used to it. Don’t tell Jess though. It’s going to be a surprise. I’m keeping it at my mum and dad’s until Christmas Day.’
‘Eeek,’ I squeal. ‘He’s going to be so excited.’
Hope rolls her eyes. ‘The things we do for love.’ She mutters before dashing out of the office door. I don’t have time to question where she’s gone when she’s back in seconds waving a piece of paper she’s just collected from the printer.
‘What’s that?’ I ask with curiosity as she drops it on my desk.
‘Wednesday is the last day of New York Comic Con. You can surprise him there,’ she explains.
‘Oh, that’s brilliant, Hope. Thank you so much,’ I cry.
‘How were you planning on finding him? I don’t want to spoil your plans; you can surprise him your way,’ she adds.
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ I say with a laugh. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead.’
Hope bursts out laughing and leans over my shoulder to help me search for flights.
I spot one that leaves tomorrow morning and will get me to New York with enough time for me to get a good night’s sleep and be up bright and early on Wednesday to face Comic Con and tell Devon exactly how I feel. My stomach triple-flips at the thought, but I’m not sixteen years old anymore and I am no longer living a life of secrets or creating obstacles for myself out of fear. I am twenty-six years old and a little bit in love with my childhood best friend and this time I’m not letting him get away without a fight. I know we already had a fight but I mean like a good fight where he knows how I feel kind of fight where I put it all on the line and don’t push him away. And if Devon doesn’t feel the same way, well, I’m just not going to think about that right now.
We book my flight and hotel and then Hope insists that I leave early to pack and get myself together. I hug her goodbye and she tells me she’ll call by tonight to make sure I’ve got everything and to see how I’m doing. As I breathe in the frosty Springhollow air, I know there’s something I have to do before I leave.
*
‘Hey, Dad,’ I say, giving him a big hug before stepping into the hallway of my parents’ house.
‘You’re out early. Everything OK at the office?’ he queries, walking into the kitchen and automatically flicking on the kettle. I take off my coat and take a seat at the table.
‘Yes, everything’s fine thank you. More than fine actually, we’re taking the magazine in a new direction next year and I’m going to be more involved,’ I inform him, helping myself to a custard cream from the biscuit tin on the table.
‘That’s fantastic, Scar,’ he says with a huge grin as he potters about pouring the milk into our mugs.
‘Yes, if we get the go-ahead then I’m going to be doing a comic strip for the January issue and if the January issue does well and we stay in business, I will be doing a comic strip for each of our issues,’ I explain, which causes him to splash milk everywhere as he turns around to look at me, beaming.
‘Oh, Scar. I knew you could do it,’ he says, dabbing at the milk he spilt with a tea towel and bringing our mugs to the table. He then drops a kiss on my forehead before taking his seat.
‘Thanks, Dad. I have some other news too,’ I say and take a sip of tea for some British courage. ‘I’m going to New York tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll be back on Christmas Eve, but I need to see Devon. He didn’t leave on very good terms and I need to apologise to him. I said some things that weren’t kind because I’ve been holding on to so much anger and resentment towards him for all these years and I need to put it right,’ I say in one long breath, not wanting to chicken out of being emotional and letting my dad in. He leans forward in his chair, his hands wrapped around his mug.
‘Just because you and Devon had a fight doesn’t mean you’re not meant for each other – you know that right? We’re not perfect people and you know that all that time apart means nothing when you’ve got something as special as you two have,’ he tells me. I can feel myself getting choked up and so I take a comforting sip of tea, to stem the flow of tears, my eyes too sore to rub any more after all the crying I’ve done today.
‘Thanks, Dad. You know, I think this might be more than just a friendship thing,’ I add, feeling my cheeks flush, not knowing quite how to broach the subject with my dad. I’ve not really had to introduce many men to him over the years, so it feels slightly awkward.