CHAPTER 10
Noah
I knock on Emma’s door and wait, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. I’ve been in front of her door several times over the past week, but this is the first time I’m actually going to see her, talk to her, and my heart is racing triple time at the thought of it.
The door in front of me remains closed and I shift on my feet, wondering if I’ve taken too long to accept her invitation and have missed my chance. An hour ago, when I’d opened my front door to find the bottle of wine and her note, my first instinct had been to rush straight next door, to get to her as quickly as possible. But then logic had butted its nose in and I’d re-considered. First, I changed out of my Christmas pyjamas, which look cute on me only through my mum’s eyes, and then I decided to do something special. Something to get my relationship with Emma on a neutral ground. So I spent some time—too much time, it seems—putting together a picnic on our joint front lawn, complete with candles, which I’m now worried may start a bushfire.
I knock again and huff out a breath. She’s probably gone to bed or is standing on the other side of the door ignoring me. Either way, I should give up and go home.
“Hi.”
The door is open and there she is. She’s in her pyjamas: soft-looking matching shorts and t-shirt, which show a lot of her smooth, tanned skin. Her blonde hair is up and away from her face, showcasing the angles of her cheekbones to their best advantage. Her eyes are red behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses and the tip of her nose is pink, like she’s been crying.
In a word, she’s breathtaking.
“Emma.”
My neighbour stands stock-still, staring at me like I’m the ghost of her Christmas past. I give her a little wave. Why isn’t she saying anything?
“Erm, hello. Emma?”
Her mouth drops open, and she takes in a swift inhale, still not saying anything. Oh my gosh, does she have a hearing problem? Is that why her movies and music are up so loud?
“Hi,” I say loudly. “I’m Noah. Your next-door neighbour?” I point to my house and feel stupid. She knows who I am. Why isn’t she saying anything?
“You’re British.” Emma shakes herself out of her stance. “You sound like Colin Firth.”
Okaaay.
“Ah, yes. I’m from London.”
She stares, a blush creeping onto her cheeks, giving her a pretty glow.
I show her the bottle of wine, the one she’d left on my doorstep, with a small smile. “Do you still want to share this?”
“No!”
I flinch.
“I mean, yes!”
OK, maybe she is a little nuts. I soldier on. “So, the reason I took so long to come over is I thought perhaps you’d like to meet on common ground.” I stand to the side and gesture to the picnic set up behind me. “What do you think?”
Her gaze bounces between me and our front lawn, her small front teeth biting into her bottom lip. I hold my breath and wait for her response, wondering if I’d gone too far with the olive branch picnic gesture.
I get my answer when she slams the door in my face.
“What?” I stumble back, getting whiplash when the door flies open again.
“Sorry!” she squeaks, her hands on her flaming cheeks. “Yes, I want to picnic with you. I just need to change first.”
She gestures to her pyjamas, her eyes sliding from mine in embarrassment. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re beautiful.” The words leave my mouth without thought and now my cheeks are flaming. But I don’t regret them. She’s more than beautiful, even if she is a bit of a mess.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” She smiles and closes the door gently this time, and I all but skip back to where a picnic rug, two camping chairs (no one over the age of eight should ever have to sit on the ground) and a cheese platter awaits us. I’d been tempted to bake more cookies for her but didn’t want to waste more time than I needed.
She can get cookies tomorrow.
“Hi again.”
I look up and my breath catches in my throat. She’s changed into a long summer dress, in vibrant shades of blue and green, which floats over her body, skimming her curves and landing mid-calf. Her hair is down and waving over her shoulders, and her eyes, without the lens of her glasses in the way, are the clearest shade of green I’ve ever seen. And she’s holding two wine glasses in her hands.
She is a vision.
“Hi,” I bark out. I clear my throat and try again. “Hi.”
Emma sits next to me, taking in the picnic set up in front of us. “You didn’t have to do this.”
I pick up the wine bottle and incline my head to the glasses she still holds. She nods, holding them up for me to fill and once we’re both poured, we relax back into the camping chairs I’d assembled for us.
“I know,” I answer her. “But it seemed like a good idea.”
“It is,” she agrees softly, her eyes darting around and then back to mine. “I love it.”
Warmth fills my belly and I take a sip of wine, letting out a small groan of approval. “You know good wine.”
She smiles. “And you bake good cookies.”
“Thank you.”
We sit in silence, sipping our wine while I wrack my brain for what to say to her. She’s so pretty, it’s making the neurons in my brain misfire. I’ve never felt this tongue-tied with a woman before in my life.
“So, you’re from London. How did you end up here? I’m used to losing friends to the UK, not gaining them.”
More warmth floods me at her implication that we may be friends. “I did the whole backpacking thing after uni. Took a gap year to figure out my life, you know? Spent some time fruit picking up in Queensland, bartending in Sydney, and then landed in Melbourne and fell in love with the place.”
She beams at me. “It is the best city in the world.”
Melbournians. They sure do love their city.
“It is,” I agree easily. “I started working in a cafe and took an interest in the backend, the kitchen, and the pastry chef there took me under his wing and the rest is history.”
“I love that story,” she sighs. “Sounds like you found your true calling. Your cookies are the best I’ve ever tasted.”
That’s it. She’s getting cookies every day for the rest of time.
Another silence falls over us, a more comfortable one this time, and I know I have to say it. The more I talk to her, the worse I feel about how I treated her.
“Hey, Emma?”
She looks at me and I lose my train of thought. Her eyes are so green.
“Yes?” she prompts.
What was I saying?
“Oh, erm. I’m really sorry for you know…the pranks. The implication that you’re a sad cat lady. It was mean…”
And so far from the truth.
To my surprise, she laughs. “Hey, from your side of the wall, I’m sure I seemed like a basket case. If I’d known you could hear that movie…”
She trails off. Now it’s my turn to prompt her. “You’d what?”
“Well, I’d still have watched it every night. But maybe a bit more quietly? With subtitles?” She shrugs, giving a light, self-deprecating laugh.
“You really love that movie, huh?”
Another pause, while she sips her wine, lost in thought. “I went through a breakup…”
Well, I’d figured as much.
“A couple of months ago, so I know I should be over it. Over him. But then this last week I had to see him with his new girlfriend and…”
“Why did you have to see him?”
Her eyes are sad as she blinks away tears. “We work together. Big mistake, I know. And so, Friday night was our company Christmas party, and he was there with her. And they weren’t like rubbing it in my face or anything, they’re just so in love, it was…painful to see.”
“He sounds like a jerk.”
A sad smile tilts her lips up at the edges. “He’s not. He’s just a guy who found his person, you know?” Her eyes peer deep into mine and I wonder if I do know. If that’s what’s happening right now. “And the worst part? I knew he was in love with her when he was with me. I tried to ignore it, but it was obvious. The only people who didn’t know Oliver was in love with Lilly were Oliver and Lilly.”
Man, those two people suck.
“He still sounds like a jerk. Want me to kill him?”
Her laughter is light and sounds like fairy bells tinkling. When did I start thinking like this?
“Nah, he’s fine. He can’t help who he was in love with. Once he knew, he broke up with me. It’s just hard with the holidays…you know?”
I nod. “Hence, Love Actually . What do you like about that movie so much?”
She tilts her head, closing her eyes in contemplation. “I love that it’s realistic and hopeful at the same time. Not everyone gets their happily ever after, you know? But everyone is OK at the end. That makes me feel better than a soppy rom-com where love conquers all.”
I’d seen and heard most of the movie by this stage and had never thought of it like that. “Well, then I’m very sorry for ruining it for you by implying what I did.”
“And I’m sorry for torturing you with it for so long. Truly, I had no idea you could hear me through the wall.”
“It’s fine. You’re fine.” More than fine. “Keep watching it for as long as you need.”
She gazes straight at me and a smile as bright as the Australian sun grows on her lips until I’m almost blinded by it. By her.
“I don’t think I need it anymore.”
I swallow hard, my heart racing, and I offer her a smile of my own, until we are both sitting there smiling at each other like lovesick fools.
“So,” she finally breaks the moment. “Are you going to be home alone tomorrow as well?”
“I am.”
She pauses, biting her lip again. “Would you like to come over for Christmas lunch?”
“Yes.” My answer is immediate, and I feel another blush creeping up my cheeks. Way to play it cool, man.
“OK.” She blinks and smiles widely. “Then, I guess I’ll see you then. 1p.m.?”
I nod. “I’ll bring dessert.”
Emma stands, brushing at the wrinkles on her dress before locking eyes with me. Eyes that are twinkling with delight.
“Dessert sounds perfect. I’ll see you then. Goodnight, Noah.”
I stand and watch her walk back into her house without a backwards glance, before flopping back into my camping chair with a thump when she’s out of sight.
Well, that was something. And now I have a date to spend Christmas lunch with the most beautiful girl in the world.
This may turn into the merriest Christmas I’ve ever had, and it’s all because of the girl—the Grinch—next door.