To Warm Frozen Fingers // A Short Story Collection

Day Twenty-Three: February 29th

Your character really loves someone. Who is it? 

Okay. Okay. Breathe, Amy, breathe. I frantically took in huge lungful's of air, and tried to calm my nerves, which were becoming more wracked by the moment.

Calm. Calm. He'll be here.

I fingered the ring in my pocket – I'd found it at an antiques shop, so there had been no box. It was the perfect ring; gold, simple, with an engraving of a feather on the inside.

I checked my watch again. He'll be here, I told myself firmly. There was no point in getting irate about the whole thing, when he said he'd bloody be here.

My nerves were calmed quite a fair bit when his familiar car rolled into a car park space at the forest I'd taken us to. Well, taken might be a strong word: I'd given him hastily scrawled instructions (on account of a shaking hand) and made a half-assed picnic. I'd already drunk a shot to try and calm down. It hadn't worked, so I'd put the bottle away and made any other alcohol scarce in case I accidentally overdrank.

"Amy!" His face, tanned still from when we came back from a much-needed winter holiday a couple of weeks ago, broke into a large smile. "How are you?" He sat down on the rug and kissed me softly.

"Better now," I replied smoothly, hoping he didn't see the bottle of champagne behind my back. We were nearly the same height standing, but his torso was so much longer than mine it didn't really seem that way when we sat side by side.

"So," he said with a smile as he rifled through the picnic, "to what do we owe this occasion? Isn't it a bit chilly for a picnic in February?" I glanced around the clearing in the woods. Honestly, yes: we were the only people sat down on the grass. I had my coat on, and so did he. The only other people who graced this area during the winter were dog walkers with their hellhounds.

"Well, do you know what the day is?" I hadn't eaten anything, but Daniel munched on a strawberry.

"Uh... Monday?"

"Date," I corrected patiently.

"February 29th?" I smiled at him and he visibly relaxed, relieved to be off the hook for the moment. "So," he asked again, "to what do we owe this occasion?"

Now, I wasn't quite sure how to do this bit, so I made it up almost as I went along.

"Well, I love you, yes?"

"I'd hope so," he replied wryly.

"Yes," I confirmed. "And, I want to be with you, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Well, then." With a bit of difficulty – perhaps changing out of my tight work skirt would have been a better idea – I got on my knee in front of him. Daniel struggled to swallow his strawberry, and I let him cough through it before touching his chin. "Daniel, I love you, I really do. And I was wondering... well... if you'd do me the honour of becoming my husband."

He sat in a blind state of shock for a moment, staring at the ring, and I wondered briefly if I'd scared him away for good; then, his face smiled dazzlingly and I thought he might cry. "Yes," he breathed, so quietly I wasn't sure I'd heard him at first. After a bit of prompting, he said it more loudly: "Yes. Yes, you idiot. Of course I'll marry you."

I leaned forward with a squeal, hugged him and slipped the ring onto his hand. "Actually..." he trailed off and paused and it felt like a cold hand had gripped my heart tightly. I sat back.

"What?" I asked, my voice strong and domineering, when inside my organs felt like they were in a body of ice.

"Well... I was kind of going to ask you the same thing." He produced a box from his jacket pocket. "I've had this ring for a couple of weeks now. I was going to propose when we were away, but I could never find the right time, or I was too scared or..." He trailed off again and looked at my face, which was half-amused, half-irritated. "Will you marry me?" he asked quietly.

I waited for a moment, my heart thudding achingly in my chest, a smile spreading across my face. "Of course, you git. Of course."