You Can't Hurry Love

Chapter Thirty-six

DECEMBER 18th

It was a chilly one this morning. Probably the coldest day of the month so far and despite the sun shining low in the sky, the air around me felt bitterly cold, whipping at my face in short bursts of blustery pain. I shove my hands further into the pockets of my favourite duffle coat in an attempt to keep them warm and turn my attention back to Danny as we walk the path alongside the River Thames towards Hampton Court Palace.

We were going ice skating. It was Danny's choice for our date and I have to say I was impressed. When I woke up and saw that the frost had sealed my window shut to the sill, I'd messaged to ask him if he wanted to do something different, maybe something away from the harsh elements, but he insisted we still go. Said if we were going to slip around on icy flooring, we might as well do it in style.

So here we are walking side by side, making polite small talk, all the while sneaking flirtatious glances at each other from under the hoods of our thick, woollen coats.

We cut quite a striking pair. I'd thought it the second I got off the train and saw him standing there, waiting for me on the platform, and my heart had given an involuntary swoon as I took him in. As shallow as it was to admit it, on appearance alone he was perfect, everything I was looking for; tall, handsome, with a friendly smile and the elegant chic of a man who knew about vintage fashion. It was something I'd noticed about him when I'd finally managed to detangle myself from him the evening we met, and I secretly loved how his style was so perfectly matched to my own.

He oozed effortless class. His beige turtleneck poked out the open collar at the front of his coat, his tailored trousers screamed 1940's city-man and his blond hair was parted down one side and slicked over to resemble all the Hollywood actors I'd spent so long gushing over in my past.

If I wasn't trying to play it cool, I'm pretty sure I'd be openly goggling at him with my tongue hanging out. He was perfect. So perfect in fact that even I couldn't seem to find a fault with him.

"But does he light a fire in your belly the way this Lincoln does?"

Roland's words from last night resonate around my head once again and I shake them away. Talks of "fires in belly's" and "fights because we care" were nothing short of confusing and today I wanted a clear head. Today was all about Danny.

Who knows . . . Maybe Danny will light a fire in my belly after today. We'll just have to wait and see.

As I come to the silent conclusion that Roland had no clue what he was talking about, Danny's shoulder knocks gently into mine and I look up just in time to see a large raucous crowd heading in our direction, decked head to toe in whacky Christmas gear, complete with Santa Hats and strings of tinsel wrapped around their necks.

'Friends of yours, are they?' he asks teasingly as we cross paths and I step down onto the road to make room for them, listening to them talk excitedly about where in London they should head to next.

'Oh yes,' I reply earnestly, pretending to look sad as he offers me an arm and pulls me back onto the pavement. 'I had to pawn them off so I could spend the day with you. They were very angry with me, you see. That's why they didn't stop to say hello. Utterly furious with the pair of us.'

'Oh dear. We can't be having that!' He turns to look at them soberly. 'Do you want me to call them back? Try and make amends?'

'No, better not. You know what those Christmas folk are like . . . very untemperamental.' I shake my head and I catch the hint of a smile form on his lips. 'Besides, there's no point turning back now. We're here!' I exclaim, brandishing a hand, and his head snaps back to the front, taking in the impressive red brick building with a low whistle of appreciation.