“Let’s be informal,” whispered William right into her ear. Emily felt his breath on her temple, sending shivers down her spine.
“Lottie, could you check if there’s anyone left in the hallway? I want to leave early today—Mum’s birthday,” Emily said.
“Just a sec, Dr. Emily,” replied the young, cheerful nurse, rising from her desk to peek into the corridor. “All clear, and the appointments are done. Double-checked!” she added with a smile.
“Perfect. If anyone shows up, book them for tomorrow or send them next door to Dr. Olivia.”
“Go on, I’ll handle everything. The clinic director’s away anyway—I’ve got your back,” Lottie reassured her.
“Thanks. What would I do without you?” Emily grabbed her bag, glanced at her desk to make sure she hadn’t forgotten her phone, and headed for the door. “See you tomorrow, Lottie.”
“Bye, Dr. Emily! Oh, hurry—look how dark it’s gotten. Rain’s coming for sure.”
“Really? And I still need to pick up flowers. Right, off I go,” Emily called back, already stepping into the hallway.
She changed quickly, slipping into her raincoat on the stairs.
“Dr. Emily, leaving already?” an elderly woman stopped her at reception.
“Hello. Can it wait till tomorrow? I’m in a rush,” Emily replied, adjusting her collar as she moved toward the exit.
“Dr. Emily, little Sophie only listens to you. Could you just pop in? She’s been crying all day,” the woman pleaded, trailing behind her.
“I’ve got evening appointments tomorrow—I’ll swing by in the morning. I really must dash, sorry.” Emily stepped outside, descending the steps and squinting at the sky.
A massive black cloud loomed over the city, threatening to burst any second. As Emily reached the flower stall, the first heavy drops hit her shoulders. She barely ducked under the awning before the downpour began in earnest.
“Don’t worry, I’ll wrap these tight,” the florist said, bundling her mum’s favourite gerberas in crisp cellophane.
Emily watched anxiously as bus after bus pulled away from the stop. Finally, she paid, clutched the bouquet over her head like a makeshift umbrella, and sprinted for the shelter.
The rain was relentless. The stop was empty now, save for her. At least the roof offered some cover. No umbrella, and she was drenched by the time she reached it.
No sign of the bus. Should’ve stayed at the clinic, chatted with Sophie’s gran—too late for regrets. She shivered, edging deeper under the awning as cars sprayed murky puddles onto the pavement.
“Where is it? Of all the times for rain,” Emily muttered, scanning the road. Then a black Range Rover pulled up beside her. She envied the driver—how nice it’d be to have a car, never waiting for buses…
The passenger window slid down. A man glanced at her. It took a second to realize he was speaking to her.
“Hop in. There’s an accident—buses are stuck.”
Hesitating, she watched him lean over to open the door. Warmth and dryness enveloped her as she sank into the seat. Even the rain’s drumming faded.
“Where to?” he asked, eyes flicking to hers.
Roughly her age, handsome in a sharp suit. Emily flushed. “I must look like a drowned rat.”
“Maple Lane,” she said.
“Perfect. I’m headed that way.”
His confidence was magnetic. She stole a glance. Not a creep—polished, intelligent eyes. “Leading-man material,” she thought. The car glided forward, leather and expensive cologne mingling in the air. A persistent beeping broke the silence.
“Seatbelt,” he reminded her.
Fumbling, she finally clicked it, adjusting the bouquet on her lap.
“Why’d you stop for me?” she asked, watching the wipers battle the rain.
“Told you—the accident. You’ve got flowers, so it’s a special occasion. Plus, we’re going the same way.”
“Yeah, right. Men like you don’t pick up randoms,” she nearly said but bit her tongue.
“Your face is familiar. We’ve met before—I never forget a face.”
“Doubtful,” Emily smirked. “We’re from different worlds. Different tax brackets, as they say.”
She felt his gaze assess her.
“People like you don’t ride buses. I’m just a humble GP,” she added, a touch sharply.
He stayed quiet. So did she, regretting the jab.
“Remember now. Brought my granddaughter to your clinic two months ago.”
“You?” Emily stared. “I’d have remembered you.”
“Too young for a granddad? Swear it’s true. My daughter had her at seventeen. Kids these days.”
“Apple doesn’t fall far,” Emily retorted.
“Feisty. I knew you were strict back then.”
“Is that bad?”
“Depends,” he deflected. “You used to live on Maple Lane?”
“Yeah.”
“Went to St. Mary’s Secondary?”
“How’d you—?”
“Same here. Weird we never crossed paths.”
“Class of 2000,” she offered.
“Ninety-seven for me.”
“Bet you were top of the class. Too busy dreaming of med school to notice boys,” he teased.
She opened her mouth to snipe back but spotted her mum’s house.
“Turn into this estate. Second building, please.”
“Can’t pull up closer—you’d step straight into a puddle,” he said, reaching for his door.
But Emily was already out, sprinting to the entrance. By the time she turned back, the Range Rover was gone. She’d forgotten to thank him.
Inside, the flat smelled of vanilla. Her mum gasped at the flowers.
“You’re soaked! Into dry slippers, quick. Tea’s ready, and I made your favourite cake…”
“Your friends aren’t coming?” Emily eyed the empty lounge.
“Didn’t invite them. We’ll keep it cosy. Who drove you? A suitor?”
“Random kindness. Roads were jammed.”
“He was handsome.”
“You barely saw him!”
“I’ve got eyes,” her mum huffed.
Over tea, Emily dozed off on the sofa. Her mum’s voice faded as the TV murmured.
“Woke you. Bed’s made in your room.”
Emily didn’t want to leave. Safe, warm. But sleep fled, replaced by thoughts of him. “Dream on. Pipe down,” she scolded herself, rolling over.
Next morning, clinic rounds left her exhausted. No time to eat—or feed her neglected cat.
Heading for the bus stop, she spotted a black Range Rover. “Coincidence,” she told herself, walking past.
A touch on her arm made her jump.
“Just me,” he said.
“You again?”
“You dropped this.” He held out a brooch.
“Didn’t even notice. And I never thanked you…”
“Come to dinner. Only payment I’ll accept.”
“I live nearby—”
“Get in,” he said firmly.
“Ex-husband’s gift?” he asked as they drove off.
“You’re observant. Died two years later. Aneurysm.”
“Sorry,” he murmured.
Dinner was exquisite. William shared his story—widowed when his daughter was ten. He’d dated, but she’d feared being replaced.
“Never remarried. Then she had a baby at seventeen. Spoilt her rotten. But the lad did right by her.”
“You liked me back then?”
“Fate, finding you yesterday.”
Over dessert, Emily asked why her—surely men like him chased younger women.
“Had all that. Craved warmth. With you, it’s like we’ve known each other forever.”
“Same school,” she agreed.
“Let’s be informal,” he whispered later, lips brushing her cheek.
She bolted up, album crashing to the floor.
“You should go.”
He rose, apologising.
Her friend later called her a fool for sending him away.
“A week later, rain again. At the bus stop, a nudge: ‘Isn’t that car for you?’
Heart pounding, she recognised the Range Rover. The door swung open.
‘Missed you,’ he said.
Over dinner, he produced tickets to the Royal Opera House.
‘Thought you’d like it.’
Tears welled as he said, ‘You’re exactly who I want.’
Funny how love finds you—sometimes late, always worth the wait.”
