The Mix-Up by Holly McCulloch
Epilogue
It was a fatty lump.
I have never been so relieved to be told I have a fatty lump.
When Dr Levenson shared the news, it was hard to know which one of us was happiest. It was a good news day, and it was made better by the fact that Noah was by my side.
Of course, I am, on occasion, still a shithead. But it turns out that I’m not the only one who has annoying characteristics.
‘Noah, are you up yet?’
I call out to him from the kitchen. I know he’s still festering in my bed. Our bed. He formally moved in a couple of months ago, but his horrible minty body wash has been in the bathroom for a lot longer. I tolerate its presence, but only because I love him.
Although, if he doesn’t get out of bed in the next five minutes, I might reconsider my position. I’ve planned a surprise, but it will be ruined if he makes us late. I’ve learnt the hard way that sleeping, anywhere and at any time, is one of his skills. He says it comes from being a doctor, from years of being on call. But I’ve learnt that he’s just trying to add gravitas and logic to a problem that’s plagued him all his life. He even fell asleep during music lessons at school. He can’t deny it. There are pictures and I have seen them.
On a typical Sunday, Noah sleeping in would be fine. Welcomed in fact. Things at work have been gloriously busy, so busy that I’m actually having to turn work down. Since the duvet cake, the article in The Wedding Trend and a follow-up profile with Annabelle, I’ve had a steady stream of enquiries. So steady that I’ve even been able to hire a couple of people to help me out. I feel guilty because they normally do all the tasks I hate, but I pay them back with a decent salary, cake truffles and awesome playlists. But being this busy comes with more work, so normally I catch up with admin whilst Noah sleeps in and it all works out really well. He gets up just in time for us to go get food.
However, this morning is different. This morning I woke up earlier than usual with a long to-do list, but haven’t done any cake-related tasks. I’ve been too busy putting the final touches to a different, even more personal, project.
‘Noah!’ I call out louder this time. I slide the pancakes on to a plate, pick it up and go to put it on to the table, but as I turn around, I’m hit by a minty fresh scent, and almost collide with him. He looks delectable when he’s freshly washed.
‘You can stop panicking, I’m here.’ He flashes me a smile and I roll my eyes, but smile back. He gives me a quick good morning kiss, the casual nature of which still makes my heart warm, and then looks down at the plate in my hand. ‘Are those for me?’
I nod and quirk an eyebrow. ‘Yes.’
He takes them from me with one hand and hugs me to him with the other. ‘Delicious.’ He smiles down at me and gives me a kiss that is a lot less casual and a lot less quick.
My heart and I are now very hot.
Eventually, he steps away to place the pancakes on the table and sits down. Part of me is relieved. I was at risk of getting distracted, and I don’t have time to get distracted this morning. I follow him over with the plate of crispy bacon.
As I sit down, he eyes me and the bacon suspiciously. ‘Paige. What’s going on?’
I smile and, from the empty chair next to me, produce a surprise cactus with a little envelope tied around its pot. Inside the envelope is a note containing his first clue. I’ve done the cheesiest thing imaginable and have made him a treasure hunt, which will take us to all of our most meaningful relationship locations. The final clue leads us back here to the piano with its top currently down, hiding a very important question that I have written on its keys. I hope he says yes. Turns out, I can be a romantic. I just needed a reason to be.
He takes it from me. ‘A surprise cactus?’
I nod.
He takes the envelope, opens it, and reads his first clue out loud. ‘Make your way to the place where the queen with nine children stayed still.’ He looks at me, confusion all over his face. ‘What?’
I might now be a romantic, but I’m also extremely impatient. ‘Victoria Station.’ He still looks confused. My hands start flapping and my eyes widen. ‘Stationary. She stayed still.’ Understanding dawns on his face. ‘I thought we’d go walk the alpacas.’ At this, he smiles and nods slightly. I think he’s excited and maybe a little impressed by my organization. I smile back. A totally unguarded smile that is potentially a little too much, a little too big. I can’t help it. I’m nervous. What if he says no?
He exhales and puts down the note before picking up his knife and fork. ‘Thank goodness.’ He starts to tuck in. ‘For a moment there, I was worried you were going to ask me to marry you.’
I freeze. My smile goes stale and then falls.
Shit. He’s going to say no. This is too soon. I knew this was a stupid idea. I still haven’t moved, but he keeps going, totally oblivious to my internal angst, first bite of pancake and bacon balanced carefully on his fork. ‘And that would really gazump my own plans for the day.’
I remain frozen, but this time not out of fear, but out of potential anticipation. I’m careful not to move.
First bite still balanced, he looks up at me, half winks, and gives me a cheeky smile.
His smile tells me all I need to know, and I’m relieved.
We’re on the same page.