Just The Way You Are

A cold sweat washed over me and I began to tremble with abject fear. An unwelcome but familiar burning feeling rose in my throat and I knew exactly what was going to happen next.

‘Would you excuse me for a minute?’ I asked.

Neither of them looked impressed but I was past caring at this point. I looked for the nearest escape route but knew my sickness wouldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed a wastepaper bin by the door and was violently sick in it.

I knew as I walked out of the room that the job wasn’t mine.

I took some time out to sit in the ladies’ toilets and cry. Today was supposed to be the day I landed the job of my dreams and instead I’d thrown up in front of the people who would either make my career or break it. I’d probably end up being stuck doing the wordsearches or the horoscopes: they were areas where only the worst staff were sent.

I went into my handbag to get my make-up and my fingers closed in around the letter. Given that I was already an emotional wreck, I figured that adding to it probably wouldn’t do any harm.

I was just about to open it when Fran came in.

‘Dare I ask how the pitch went?’ she asked, taking in my tear-stained face.

I let out a hollow chuckle. ‘Well I went in there, couldn’t say anything about what I wanted to do for the column and threw up in the rubbish bin.’

She clapped her hands to her mouth, presumably to hide the trademark Cheshire cat grin working its way onto her face.

‘Only you Ava, only bloody you!’ She pulled me close for a hug. ‘You’re a one-off, you know that?’

When she pulled away, she caught sight of the envelope in my hand. ‘What’s that?’

‘If I’m right, it’s a letter from someone I thought had forgotten about me a helluva long time ago,’ I answered.

‘Open it!’ Fran’s eyes widened with curiosity and she eyed me expectantly like a kid waiting to receive their birthday presents.

Hands trembling, I tore open the envelope and unfurled the paper. For a very long minute, I couldn’t look at it and viewed it instead through half-closed eyes.

‘Come on, I can’t take this any more!’

I took in a deep lungful of air and prepared myself to look at what was written on the page. Every fibre of me told me not to, that I should put this Pandora’s Box of words back in my bag and forget about it. However, Fran’s expectant stare and the niggling questions at the back of my mind made me look. When I did, my breath caught in my throat. In front of me was the most beautiful love letter I’d ever read.

Dear Ava,

How do you start writing a letter to someone, six years after breaking their heart?

It may seem strange that I’m writing to you again after so long, but I can’t ignore how I feel any more. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last six years, it’s that life’s too short not to go after what you want. And Ava, all I want is you.

Since that day I was supposed to meet you in Heaton Park, I’ve kicked myself for being such a coward. Seeing how upset you were afterwards killed me. Every fibre of me pulled me towards you that day but my stupid self-doubt stopped me. I was scared of not being enough, of disappointing you. Little did I know that by convincing myself to stay out of the picture, I ended up doing the very thing I was trying to avoid. Words can’t express how sorry I am for hurting you; I hope you can forgive me.

After trying to convince myself to forget you and telling myself to move on, I’m still totally and completely in love with you. Spending the best part of a decade thinking about what we could’ve had together has been torturous. It could’ve been me holding you tight or kissing you or showing you how special you are. Now, it’s finally time for me to do something about it. I know you could have built a whole life with someone else, but I’ll regret it forever if I don’t at least try. I’ll let you know who I am soon: for now just enjoy the magic of the letters. If anyone deserves a fairy tale, it’s you. Keep smiling, beautiful.

Love always,

?

A stray sob escaped from my throat; it was a happy sob, full of joy at what I’d just read and the chain of events it could potentially set in motion.

‘Who’s it from?’ asked Fran.

‘It’s from my secret admirer,’ I replied. ‘He’s back!’

Chapter 3 (#ulink_a794fc6b-1bd6-5b77-b05b-9146c69fc0d5)

Before I knew it, it was time for my date with Greg. The contents of the letter had made me a bit reluctant about going – amazing secret admirer versus dubious blind date picked by my scatter-brained best friend – but I didn’t want to let Greg down.

I got to Café Rouge just as the lunchtime rush was about to start. It was a small, smart-looking café nestled between an independent bookshop and a dry-cleaner’s. The air was warm for mid-October so I took a seat at one of the little metal tables outside. A huge red parasol emblazoned with Café Rouge rose up from the centre, protecting me from the sun’s rays. Since I was a bit early, I took the opportunity to have yet another mint and fix my ponytail. My hair had dried now so the whole thing had gone very bushy and I looked like a badly groomed poodle.

Greg arrived shortly after. I saw a tall, slender figure walking down the street and instantly knew it was him. His fitted blue shirt, black trousers and smart shoes, plus the way he carried himself all screamed “male model”. His hair was closely cropped and, as he drew nearer, I spotted a cheeky glint in his eye. Maybe this date wouldn’t be so bad after all.

‘Ava Clements?’ he asked in a thick Liverpudlian accent.

‘That’s me!’ I stood up too quickly and knocked my chair backwards. Smooth Ava, really smooth.

I picked it up and offered my hand to him, which he shook firmly.

‘Nice to meet you, I’m Greg Williams,’

He smiled and we sat down. I picked up a menu and peeked over it to look at him. Gwen wasn’t wrong; he really was a good-looking guy. I could just imagine his face gracing some high-end men’s fashion campaign. He caught me looking at him and flashed a half-smile. My cheeks began to burn and I dropped my eyes back to the menu.

‘You know, when Gwen told me she had a mate to set me up with, I didn’t expect someone who looked like you,’ he said.

‘Oh, I hope I’ve exceeded your expectations then!’ I allowed a slight barbed edge to creep into my response. I couldn’t tell how he’d meant that remark so decided to be on my guard.

‘I don’t know yet, I think I’ll reserve judgement until after the meal.’

Ouch, that stung. I drummed my fingers on the table and took quick glances at the menu in front of me. I knew I couldn’t let one slightly off remark ruin a whole date; I had to be open-minded and see what Greg had to offer. If I didn’t, I could well end up knee-deep in cat litter and tins of Whiskas.

After a few minutes, a waiter came to take our order.

‘I’ll have the steak and chips and a pint of Coke please mate,’ said Greg.

‘Can I have the penne carbonara and a mineral water please?’ I handed the menus to the waiter and smiled as he took them away.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw Greg raise his eyebrows sceptically.

‘What’s up?’ I asked. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer but felt it was polite to at least ask.

‘Nothing, nothing…’ He trailed off and folded his arms, causing the delicate material of his shirt to strain at his biceps.

‘Are you sure?’ I didn’t feel comfortable with the atmosphere that had developed between us. It was obvious I’d done or said something to offend him but I couldn’t think what.

Greg shook his head and curled his top lip in a very unattractive way then sat forward so he could see me.

‘I just… I thought you would’ve ordered a salad instead of pasta, that’s all.’

The comment took me aback. I certainly hadn’t been expecting that; since when did your choice of food matter so much on a date? I’d clearly been out of the game too long.