Christmas at the Little Waffle Shack - Helen J. Rolfe Page 0,97

life.’ He couldn’t look at her now, he knew she’d be thinking about her cousin. This was make-or-break time for them. She’d either give him a chance or walk away for good.

‘Lucy, I never told you any of this because I didn’t know how to, and I was ashamed. That was the worst thing I’d done out of everything. I had nightmares for a long time after, of people dying at my hands because of a decision I’d made. Giselle forced me to look at Peter and realise that he might not be with us anymore if I hadn’t got behind the wheel. And I had to pull myself together for him and for her. After what she’d done to save me from the streets and from myself I owed her everything. The guilt still eats at me if I let it, thinking about what could’ve been.

‘Harvey told me about your cousin and how she died,’ he said when silence was the only thing between them. He turned to look at her and her tears gave her eyes such a sheen of sadness that he had to turn away again. ‘Is that why you couldn’t look at me or talk to me, when you found out what I’d done?’ She didn’t answer. ‘I guess I didn’t make it easy for myself – I didn’t give anyone any details and so the gossip that spread and found you was only one side of the story.’

A group of twenty-somethings staggered over full of Christmas cheer and asked if the waffle shack was open. When they declared they had the munchies Daniel suspected they may well have had more than booze. Part of him wanted to shake them and tell them they only got one chance to live a good life, but then again, maybe they had more than he’d had at home at that age and that was the winning formula. Love and support from the right people could dilute the mistakes you made or the dramas that came your way, maybe that was what enabled you to keep on standing.

‘Lucy, please say something,’ he said when the revellers had gone on their way. ‘Yell at me, tell me you hate me and never want to see me again, I don’t care what you do, just please talk to me.’

She took a deep breath as the laughter coming from the group faded into the distance. And then she took something from her pocket that was wrapped in white-and-silver Christmas paper and she handed it to him. ‘I didn’t think I’d see you tonight but I was going to leave this here at the shack for you.’ Her voice held steady. ‘Open it.’

‘It’s not a grenade, is it?’ he said of the baseball-shaped item he could feel through the wrapping with something akin to a pin at one end.

Lucy’s laughter made him want to be as close as they’d been back there in the barn, dancing. ‘No, it’s not a grenade,’ she told him.

He undid the bow, pulled back the paper and when his eyes fell on the cast-iron tortoise he was the one lost for words.

She reached across and turned it over to reveal the secret compartment to hide a spare key. ‘You know, in case you lock yourself out. Leave this in the flowerbed or something and –’

But he didn’t let her say anything else. He’d put his arm around her, a hand to the back of her hair, and pulled her to him, kissing her the way he’d wanted to for a long time. And if she was going to tell him she didn’t want anything to do with him because of his past then he’d save this away in his memory bank and that would have to be enough.

Lucy said nothing when they pulled apart, when his thumb rubbed along her jawbone towards her bottom lip. And this time it was her who moved to kiss him. It took him by surprise, took his breath away, and when she climbed onto his lap he began to laugh. ‘Is this your way of letting me know I have a chance?’

Her lips twisted as she pretended to think. ‘There is a condition.’

He didn’t want to sound desperate but right now he’d do anything to get back to kissing her. ‘Whatever you want, name your price.’

‘Make me some waffles, I’m bloody starving.’

He put his hands around her waist and with her legs still wrapped around him, he lifted her up to take