James sat staring at his phone for what felt like an age. He’d put this off long enough. Finally, drawing a deep breath, he pressed the call button. One ring. Then two. “No, I can’t do this,” he cursed himself for cowardice, about to hang up—when suddenly, Mike’s voice crackled through the receiver.
“Blimey, mate! Where’ve you been hiding?”
“Hey. Just busy with work, you know…”
“Everything alright? Need a hand?” Mike shot back instantly.
“No, it’s fine. How about you lot?”
“Can’t complain. Though our Emily’s been a right handful. Fallen head over heels, can you believe it? One minute she’s weepy, next she’s dancing about. Out all hours or locked in her room. Won’t say a word either, stubborn as a mule. Speaking of—you ever tie the knot?”
James swallowed hard, like a man about to dive off a cliff. Here it was—the slippery question.
“No. But I’m planning to,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.
“Don’t tell me someone’s finally cracked the bachelor! About time, mate. Better invite us or I’ll never forgive you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you out.”
“Planning to swing by?”
James had braced for this. No turning back now.
“Actually… I’m already here. Been awhile.”
“What? You daft git! Staying in a hotel? Sarah’ll have your head. When you coming over?”
“Bloody hell, slow down,” James laughed. “Can’t keep up. I’ll drop by soon.”
Truth was, he’d been back six months. No need for Mike to know that. Between buying a flat, furnishing it, sorting work, and his dad’s illness, he’d had his hands full. And then there was Emily—the real reason he’d stayed away.
“None of that ‘soon’ rubbish. I know you. Come round now,” Mike insisted.
“Too late tonight. Tomorrow,” James promised.
“Right, tomorrow then. I’ll tell Sarah. She’ll be chuffed.”
Step one done. If only Mike knew the bombshell he’d dropped—hardly something to celebrate. Emily would be proud of him. Here he was, acting like some nervous lad afraid to face his girl’s parents. “Emily’s got guts, keeping quiet. Mad to think I held her as a newborn. Now I want to marry her.”
But best start from the beginning…
***
They’d been mates since uni—Mike, James, and Sarah. Both lads fell hard for the clever, stunning girl. Plenty fancied her, but none stood a chance against Mike and James. They rowed over her, neither willing to back down. If Sarah guessed at their rivalry, she never let on, treating them both the same. Credit to her—she never played them.
Things grew ugly, nearly coming to blows. In the end, they agreed: whoever she picked—even if it wasn’t either of them—no interference. Still, each tried to outdo the other. Sarah gave nothing away. All they could do was wait.
Then, final year, Sarah started paying James attention. His chest swelled with pride. Mike, crushed by heartache, vanished from campus to avoid seeing them together.
James bought a bottle of whiskey and went to Mike’s. They drank all night. By dawn, James realised he didn’t love Sarah like Mike did. His mate truly couldn’t live without her.
Simple solution—he pretended to fall for another girl. Sarah, furious, accused him of betrayal. Just as planned, she turned to Mike for comfort.
Mike loved her so fiercely that Sarah soon truly loved him back. James ached with jealousy, but he knew Sarah would be happier with Mike. Never once did he regret it. Neither Mike nor Sarah ever guessed his hand in their happiness.
They married right after graduation. James was best man. Emily arrived nine months later. Both mates stood beaming at the hospital, flowers in hand. The midwife hesitated—which one was the father? Mike stepped forward, took his daughter, then handed her to James.
“Here, you hold her. I’m shaking like a leaf,” he whispered.
James peered into the pink blanket. A tiny miracle stared back—rosebud lips, a button nose, velvet cheeks. His heart swelled so fiercely his eyes watered. “She could’ve been mine,” he thought.
Days later, James left. First to Manchester, then Scotland. On visits, he’d stop by. Emily grew into Sarah’s double—a slender beauty where once was a scrawny girl with plaits. He envied his friends’ joy, yet never found a woman to match it for himself.
***
Emily always held a special place in his heart. Maybe because of that moment in hospital, holding her as a newborn. This visit, he barely recognised the poised young woman she’d become. No longer did she rush to kiss his cheek. Her shyness around him? He chalked it up to growing up.
His holiday ended too soon. With his parents ageing, James considered moving back. They said goodbye at home—he had an early train to catch.
The carriage was near empty. James shut his eyes, hoping to nap. Then he felt someone sit opposite. A gaze bored into him. He opened his eyes—Emily.
“What are you doing here?” he gasped.
“Seeing you off. I know you don’t take me seriously, but… I love you.” Straight out, no fuss.
“I love you too. Like a daughter,” he said carefully. “Your parents don’t know you’re here. Disappear at the next stop—I can’t miss my flight.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Unfazed, she spoke with a woman’s certainty. No tears, just raw honesty that left him speechless.
“I loved your mother once. You know that. I’m thirty-seven. When you’re my age, I’ll be an old man. You’d resent me. Men your own age would—”
“—Life’s unpredictable,” she cut in. “What if I never see you grow old? Either way, I’ll break your heart one day. Why not be happy until then?”
Bloody hell, she’d done her homework. James was stumped.
“We could just talk. Calls, emails. I’ve school to finish, uni to start. Don’t expect me to fall for some daft boy and forget you.”
“What if I meet someone?” he countered.
“Doubt it. You just said you love me.” The train slowed. She kissed him—properly—then walked off without looking back.
James pressed to the window, but the platform stood empty. Had he dreamed it? Yet his lips still tingled.
Better if she’d screamed, cried. Was this love or madness? Did he have any right to ruin her life? But time would prove him right—she’d fall for someone her own age.
She rang as he queued to board. Silly, sweet chatter. And suddenly, no woman had ever stirred him so deeply.
Daily calls followed. If she didn’t ring, he agonised, missing her voice. Her emails were poetic; his replies guarded—her parents might read them.
Skype calls showed her twirling in prom dresses, radiant with youth. He begged her to forget him, lied about meeting someone. Silence followed. Relief—and ache. Then she called again: “I knew you were lying.” And so it resumed.
His father’s illness sped James’ return. After a heart op in London, he bought a flat near his parents, avoiding Mike and Sarah—because of Emily.
He dodged places they might meet, till fate intervened. The longing hit him like a train. They began meeting—chastely, though it near killed him. He made her promise: he’d tell her parents.
Time came. James brought wine, roses for Sarah, violets (Emily’s favourite). The reunion was warm. Mike had thickened, balding slightly. James, still youthful, earned Sarah’s teasing.
Over shared memories, Emily sat quiet, stealing glances. Mike noticed.
“Fag break,” he said, steering James outside.
“Spill it.”
James confessed everything. Begged forgiveness for loving Emily.
“Want me to disappear?”
“You punishing me for Sarah? Is Emily pregnant?” Mike growled.
“Christ, who do you take me for? I never touched Sarah, let alone your daughter. Maybe I should go.”
That night, Emily turned up in tears, recounting the row at home. James soothed her with tea, drove her back sober.
“Come in,” Mike said. “What choice have we? She’ll do something daft otherwise. Marry her—after she graduates.”
“You’re the best, Dad!” Emily flung her arms round him.
The wedding was small—just family. Emily glowed. Their first dance had guests weeping. Then came their wedding night…
James had never known such joy. Only then did he realise—he’d loved her since that pink-blanketed moment in hospital.
Then Sarah fell ill. A shadow of himself, Mike clung to hope. James pulled every favour, sold his car, drained savings toAnd as James held his newborn grandson for the first time, he knew love had woven their lives together in ways no one could have predicted.
