Our Stop - Laura Jane Williams Page 0,104

this huge meltdown that night and I think it was a relief for both us, to be honest – it stripped away a bit of the trying-to-be-strong and made us a bit more honest. She goes swing-dancing now, and got a karaoke machine for the living room so she can have a bit of a sing-along without anyone in the house to tell her she carries a tune like a strangled cat.’

Nadia reached out and slipped her hand into his, on his lap, playfully nudging him. The tenderness of it sent pulses through them both. He continued, encouraged: ‘That’s why I left that night – she was so upset. And then the next day I saw you with your boyfriend and thought maybe it wasn’t you I’d been writing to after all. I mean – I meant it to be for you, but … Oh, I don’t know!’

‘Do you know when I met that guy?’ Nadia said, understanding he meant Eddie.

‘When?’

‘The night you stood me up.’

‘No way.’

‘Way.’

Daniel stroked her hand with his thumb. ‘Shit! I thought you’d been together for ever!’ He knew leaving would have cost him, he just didn’t account for how much.

‘And then the cinema thing …’ Nadia continued. She figured Daniel had been pretty honest and vulnerable with her, so she would give him something of herself in return.

‘I have a confession,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘I found you. On Instagram. After that. I was on the geo-tag and your friend had uploaded a picture and tagged you and …’

‘Oh shit,’ he laughed. ‘How far back did you scroll?’

‘Pretty far.’

‘Ooooooh. There’s some dodgy filter usage in my past.’

‘I saw,’ said Nadia. ‘A little sepia on those sunsets.’

He cringed. ‘Guilty as charged, your honour.’

‘I wanted you to ask for my number that night. I was so mad when you disappeared!’

Daniel laughed. ‘You’re telling me! I spent the whole night trying to find your face in the crowd!’

Nadia stared at him, earnestly. ‘You did?’

Daniel shrugged. ‘Maybe. Yeah.’ He looked at her. She wanted him to kiss her.

‘That makes me happy,’ she said, uncrossing her legs and inching forward in her seat. ‘Because I looked for you too.’ She tilted her face upwards slightly, being brave enough to make it clear what she was doing. Daniel smiled. His voice dropped low and he leaned forward himself.

‘So all these near-misses,’ he said, his mouth centimetres from hers, his head tipped to the right. ‘And only now do we get to be in the same bar …’ He tilted his head the other way now, delaying the inevitable moment, making Nadia’s breathing shallow and heart race and she swallowed, daring to push forward the tiniest bit. ‘… at the same time.’

‘Apparently so,’ she said softly, their noses touching now. ‘It’s quite the build-up.’

‘Isn’t it just.’

And with that their lips met, and they kissed. Slowly, gently, magically. And then, faster and more passionately – and a different kind of magic.

‘Well,’ Nadia said, grinning, eventually coming up for air. ‘Nice to meet you, anyway.’ She pushed her forehead against his. ‘I’m Nadia Fielding.’

Daniel laughed, his hand firmly on the back of her neck, pulling her in for more kisses.

‘Daniel Weissman,’ he said. ‘It’s very nice –’ his mouth kissed her cheek, her neck, near her mouth ‘– to meet you.’

57

Epilogue

MISSED CONNECTION BECOMES CHARITY UNION

Two lovebirds commuted beside each other every day but never spoke, and then fell in love by writing to each other via this paper. Now they’re launching an initiative as close to their hearts as each other.

They say love strikes when you least expect it, and for artificial intelligence worker Nadia Fielding, a warm July morning seemed a day like any other. But then an advert in this very paper changed the course of her life – and her heart.

Nadia, 29, didn’t know about engineer Daniel Weissman, 30. She didn’t know that two weeks into his new job in London Bridge he’d overheard her talking to her boss in Borough Market, and been captivated by her. She didn’t know that he then saw her frequently on his new commute, where he was desperate to catch her attention.

‘I knew, though,’ laughs Daniel, perched on the blue and red velvet of the Northern line carriage, ‘that I had to be clever about it. I knew Nadia wasn’t a woman you made a pass at on a busy tube journey. I’d heard her talk, and knew that if I was only going to have one chance to get her attention, that I had better put some