Don't Look Back

Chapter 16 - Sylvia

December 2018
Leominster, MA, USA

Even though bad luck often comes in threes, it seems good luck does as well. When I look out the window on December the Twenty-First, I find my third Christmas miracle. Just in time for my first date with Ian.

It's snowing.

Not so hard that it's treacherous. But just enough to stick and make things super romantic.

Bundling myself up nice and warm with a scarf, my hat, and velvet gloves, I don my winter peacoat which covers up my black cocktail dress. Only my black tights and black leather boots are visible.

"He's gonna die a thousand deaths," exclaims Lina as she drops me off at the train station. "Call me when you get the train back and let me know when ya want me to pick ya up. If ya want me to pick ya up."

"Thanks, Aria."

"Anytime." She grins. "Go get 'im, tigress."

"Rawr!"

"Hellz yeah!"

After I grab my tiny little purse with my phone, a tiny wallet, my pink lipstick, and a little packet of tissues. In cold weather like this, my nose runs like crazy, especially after eating hot food.

Let's avoid any embarrassing moments, shall we?

During the hour-long ride to South Station, my heart thuds against my ribs. This is it. My first proper date with Ian since we parted ways. I can't believe he wants to meet. When I saw him at the chapel, I expected him to chew me up and spit me out. And not in a good way. Part of me wanted him to do it to punish me for my mistake.

Instead, he sang to me and began to melt away my fear.

And here we are...meeting again as though it's for the first time.

When the train finally arrives, I find him waiting for me on the platform. Ian stands tall and proud as always, striding purposefully when he realizes that I'll alight from the train a few cars ahead of him. Before the train passes, I catch a decent glimpse.

Good God!

Dressed in a black wool overcoat that reaches his mid-thigh and highlights his slender features, Ian looks like he should be on the front cover of some fashion magazine. A white tailored shirt peeks out around the collar with a slate-gray tie that matches his tailored suit. He wears expensive leather ankle boots, only obvious when he takes those long strides. In short, with his classic comb over haircut Ian looks like a gentleman plucked straight out of the nineteen-fifties.

And it sets my body on fire.

Hands tucked into his pockets, he waits for me right by the door. When I start down the steps, Ian offers to take my hand like a gentleman from another century.

My heart thuds against my ribs because time has dimmed the memory of his chivalry. Though every feminist political science professor on Planet Earth would probably curse me for it, I love it. Every minute of it.

And I place my hand in his.

The genuine smile Ian gives me when I stand before him! It's the one that touches the outermost creases of his eyes. The one he reserves for the handful of moments that truly touch his heart.

Oh, my...!

Lost in the moment, I move to embrace him in a warm hug.

Before I can catch myself, I'm halfway towards hugging him--

This is our first freaking date!

Abort! Abort!

Thank God, I manage to change tack, gripping his shoulders instead. But I'm so flustered by the experience that my brain goes haywire. I end up giving them a couple of gentle pats like one would the head of a beloved pet.