Eventually - All or Nothing #2

19th October 2022

It was mid-October when John had made the unfamiliar journey to Aimee's parents' house. One of those strange autumn days where the dregs of summer are wrestling with the threat of winter, and you never know how to dress.

When he'd left for the school run that morning, Aimee had already been hard at work in the kitchen. She was attempting a new recipe, cookies stuffed with chocolate hazelnut spread. John had told her they sounded great, who didn't love Nutella?! But then she'd said she was going to make her own chocolate spread, which she had spent much of last night doing. Now, she was getting to work on the actual cookies, a look of deep concentration on her face.

Lost in what she was doing he'd had to settle for a squeeze of her hips and planting a kiss on her cheek; only after he had wiped off the chocolate, she had already managed to get on her face. Really, she was worse than the girls sometimes.

"Going now," he'd said, looking at her in mild amusement; was this it!? The moment she started taking him for granted.

"Looks cold," she said distractedly, as if she was talking to one of the girls. "Take a coat."

It wasn't cold and as he pulled up outside the house where Aimee grew up, his denim jacket was still sitting on the passenger seat unworn.

The first time Aimee had brought him here, John had been surprised; the street was idyllic, large Victorian houses proudly still bearing their original features, and beautiful gardens. Each one more well-tended than the next, in a way that made John think the neighbours were in competition with each other. It was not where he would have pictured Aimee; this was not the kind of place teenage girls came home from university pregnant. Girls from this area tread a well-worn path, like Aimee's elder sister had before her. They went to university, found a job elite enough that the parents could not-so-subtly boast about it at the golf club, somewhere along the way picking up a husband with an even more fabulous job. Aimee bucked the trend, it was fair to say her parents had been disappointed, even judgemental, but once Rosie was here, everything had changed. Now, they were immensely proud of Aimee's phoenix from the ashes story, a university drop out with a fledgling business of her own, a beautiful, bright daughter, and now, a very eligible suitor in John. Now that was something worth boasting about.

John had smiled nervously at Aimee's mum, Ruth when she had opened the door. Then, as she had welcomed him inside, he had apologised for showing up uninvited. He realised coming straight from the CFA wasn't his greatest ever idea, the jeans and hoodie combo he was wearing was maybe a little too casual for such an occasion, but he'd been waiting for a window of opportunity to come unnoticed by Aimee for weeks now. Yesterday, she had casually mentioned her parents' friends, whom they usually played golf with mid-week, had come down with Covid and their plans had been cancelled. John knew his moment had come. He was constantly being asked to stay back after training or physio to do some social media or charity work, so him arriving home a little later than expected would not raise any eyebrows from Aimee.

"Jim's in the garden," Ruth had led John through the house, as they passed a sideboard holding what had once been a lavish display of flowers but was now a vase holding some past their best blooms, he realised he probably shouldn't have come empty handed either. The interior of the house was a perfect as the exterior and the wilted flowers were a little jarring, a blot on a perfect landscape. John had realised very quickly that growing up in such an immaculate home probably accounted for Aimee's affection for chaos; she'd gone rogue as soon as she was allowed a little freedom.

John associated gardening with spring and summer, but he supposed that you only kept a garden as beautiful as Aimee's parents with hard work. Aimee's father was on his knees tending to a flower bed when they emerged through the bifold doors into the garden. "Jim, John's here," Ruth had called out.