“Good morning,” she replied with a smile, studying his face on the screen. His grey eyes with dark flecks, the dimple in his left cheek, the tiny scar on his chin, all reminded her of her dream. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the feeling of his arms wrapped tightly around her.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, as she turned back to the coffee maker to make her morning cup. The toast popped up, so she put it on a plate and slathered it in strawberry jam. There was no butter because she hadn’t been food shopping recently.
She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I had too much wine last night.”
He chuckled. “Ah, so feeling a little rough now?” He frowned. “Isn’t it getting late there? Shouldn’t you be getting to work?”
Rebecca never worked on her birthday, it was the one day every year that she held sacred. But she didn’t want to mention her birthday and make him feel bad for forgetting, again. She stirred milk into her coffee and turned back to her laptop. “I’m taking the day off, I need to get caught up on a few things.”
He was still frowning, unsure whether to believe her. She needed to change the subject, fast.
“I dreamt about you again,” she said, sipping her coffee and sitting at the breakfast bar so she could devote her whole attention to him.
His eyebrows raised. “A good dream, I hope?”
She grinned. “It was lovely. We were spooning, just holding each other. I could smell you, feel you, hear you. I didn’t want to wake up.” She sighed. “But I’d forgotten to turn off my alarm.”
“I wish I really were there, holding you,” he said. Though he didn’t show his emotions much, she could hear a hint of sadness in his voice.
“Me too,” she replied, her eyes filling with tears despite her promise to herself that she would not cry on her birthday. She bit into her rapidly cooling toast, and chewed slowly, trying to focus on the taste and distract herself.
“So what have you got planned for today?” he asked, sensing it was his turn to change the subject.
“Oh, just some bits of shopping,” she said, wiping her mouth with a piece of kitchen towel. “I also need to tidy the house and do some paperwork.” Though she didn’t work on her birthday, she also didn’t really do much to celebrate, either. Not since he had gone away. Mostly, she just did her best not to wallow in self-pity of being alone.
“I hope you find some joy,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
It was a silly game that they used to play. Each day, they would challenge each other to find the joy, and then report back that evening. She found it slightly annoying, especially when she was having a particularly bad day, but he had been insistent on the ritual. Even after he left, when they spoke each day, he would ask her what joy she had found each day. As irritating as it sometimes was, it did make her more aware of the tiny things that gave her hope, or made her smile. She had no doubt that doing so had helped her through the dark times. Not that she would admit that to him, of course.
She rolled her eyes at him, unable to see how she would find joy in a birthday without him, but before she could reply with a sarcastic comment, the doorbell rang and she frowned.
“Someone is at the door,” she said, putting her cup down and starting to close the laptop.
“I’ll wait,” he said quickly.
“Okay,” she said, lowering the lid slightly but not closing down the program. She got up and went to the door. She wasn’t expecting any deliveries or visitors, so she was a little apprehensive. She really hoped that her family hadn’t decided to surprise her, she had told them explicitly that she wanted to spend the day at home, doing nothing. She didn’t think she could cope with the polite small talk she would be forced to take part in.
She opened the door a crack, and found herself looking at a huge bunch of flowers with legs sticking out underneath.
“Mrs Green?” the bouquet said.
Rebecca frowned. “Yes?” She opened the door wider and the flowers were thrust at her.
“Happy Birthday!” the woman said, turning away and walking back down the driveway before Rebecca could utter a thanks.
Slightly stunned, she carried the massive bouquet into the kitchen, and set them down on the counter. Nestled amongst the bright, fragrant blooms was a tiny envelope. She opened it and slipped the card out. In an unfamiliar script, it simply said, ‘Happy Birthday, Bex. xx’
There was only one person who called her Bex, but how…?
She went back over to her laptop and opened the lid fully again. He was still there, patiently waiting for her.
“How did you do this?” she whispered.
He smiled. “Happy birthday, my love. Did you really think I would forget your big one?”
She chuckled, and wiped a tear away. “You always used to forget my birthdays.”
He shook his head. “I was terrible at remembering things, it’s true. But it was the least I could do, to remind you how much I love you.”
Hearing those words, the tears began to flow freely. She still had no idea how he had remembered, or how he had managed to arrange such a beautiful surprise, but she was glad he had. The prospect of celebrating her 40th birthday alone didn’t seem quite so bad now.

This is the second chapter in a brand new story that I am posting here on my blog as I write it. (Chapter One is here.) It is not finished, it is not edited, and I don’t know if it will be a book, but I wanted to try something new with my writing, so if you have enjoyed this chapter or are intrigued enough to want to read on, please do email me or comment!