CHAPTER 11
Emma
“He’s coming over for Christmas lunch,” I tell my best friend instead of a ‘hello’ or you know, ‘Merry Christmas’, when she answers my face call.
“He’s what?!” Carly screeches through the screen, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. I think I’ve woken her up.
“Shhh!” I point the phone camera to where the wall is lurking, as thin and porous as paper, apparently.
“If you don’t want him hearing this, then take me somewhere else.”
I hurry out of the kitchen, close my bedroom door behind me, and walk into my wardrobe, shut that door behind me, then slump to the ground.
Better.
“Tell me everything,” Carly demands, awake and on high alert now, her eyes shining with excitement.
“He’s British.” I don’t know why that’s where I’ve chosen to start, after everything that happened during our impromptu picnic— he made me a picnic! —but I’m stuck on it. When Noah speaks in that accent, it’s all I can do to hold myself back from just launching at him.
“Shut your mouth!”
I giggle and nod. “He sounds like Prince Harry.”
“Marry him.”
I laugh louder at her antics, knowing she’s only half joking. We’re both obsessed with Prince Harry.
“I know, right? Prince Harry is the best…”
“The way he loves Meghan Markle…”
“He’s so protective…”
We go off on a tangent for several more minutes before Carly collects her thoughts, pulling us back to the here and now.
“OK, so we’ve established he’s British. What else?”
My cheeks hurt from smiling as I detail everything that happened after I dropped off the bottle of wine.
“I can’t believe this,” she sighs when I’m done. “The last I heard from you was that all men suck and you were becoming a nun.”
I wince at my dramatics. “Well, he took an entire hour to respond to my invitation. I thought he was rejecting me.”
“And instead, he was setting up a romantic picnic under the moonlight.” Her expression is dreamy; the same as mine.
“With candles.”
“Seriously, marry him.”
I wave her off. “We’ve had like one conversation. Let’s just calm down.”
Her answering nod was slow and reluctant. “Fine. But if today goes well, I have full permission to jump on this ship. Oooh, what would be your ship name?”
We ponder the options: Emmoah, Noemma. Hmmm, neither is great.
“This is definitely us getting ahead of ourselves.”
Carly shakes her head. “Emma, he’s hot, he’s got an accent and he bakes. He’s a freaking unicorn.”
I picture the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles and how his hair, out of its ponytail, ruffled slightly in the evening wind. The man belongs on the cover of a romance novel. Or a rom com movie.
“I know. I know,” I groan, banging my head on the wall behind me to knock some sense into my love/lust-addled brain. “But I’m just getting over Oliver, and we live next door to each other, so that’s a recipe for disaster. And we’ve only ever had one conversation after days of messing with each other. It’s way too early to be thinking this is anything.”
“It’s enemies to lovers, is what it is.” Carly, it seems, is refusing to listen to me or reason today.
“Carly, you need to calm down. So far, it’s enemies to friends…”
“…to lovers,” she finishes with a cheeky smile.
“You’re incorrigible,” I laugh.
“And you love me.”
I look at her shining, smiling face on my screen and my heart squeezes. “I do love you. And now I have to go get ready. My unicorn will be here in four hours, and there is so much to do.”
She gestures for me to go with her hands. “I expect updates. Hourly.”
“Fine. Love you. Merry Christmas.”
We blow each other kisses and I swipe to hang up the phone. Once her pretty face disappears off my screen, I look around me.
First things first; what am I going to wear?
*****
Turkey in the oven? Check.
Wine chilling in the fridge? Check.
Salad waiting to be tossed? Check.
Nerves on the wrong side of frazzled? Also check.
Noah is due here in a few minutes and I’m not ready. I’m mean, sure, lunch is ready, the house is spotless, my hair is pin straight and shiny, my make-up is flawless, and my summer dress is super cute. But still…I’m not ready.
I’m breathless with anticipation at seeing him again. I’m anxious to get to know him better. I’m dying to kiss his face off.
So yeah, I’m not ready.
“Emma?”
There’s that accent with a knock on my door and my heart flips in my chest. This is it!
“Calm down, Emma,” I mutter as I walk to the door, taking a deep breath and opening it.
Oh, holy heck. He’s delicious.
“Wow.” We say at the same time, our eyes running over each other with equal levels of enthusiasm.
Noah is wearing light chinos with a deep blue shirt, which hugs his biceps and his chest just so, and also makes his eyes pop. His hair is pulled back into a half-up man bun and his lips—currently stretched into a wide smile—are shiny and kissable.
“Um, come in.” I gather my senses and open the door further, moving to the side to let him in. As he passes me, I get a whiff of his cologne. Something masculine with a touch of vanilla. I want to bathe in it.
Get a grip, Emma!
“Your place looks great,” Noah says, standing in my living room and looking around in appreciation. He’s so big, he makes the room look small. Or maybe that’s just my perception; he’s all I can see.
“Thanks.” I motion him towards the kitchen, taking the dessert from his outstretched hand. “What’s in here?”
“It’s my famous Christmas pie!” His eyes are dancing with happiness and I can’t help but smile back at him.
I open the lid to the pie dish and sniff, my knees almost buckling with intense pleasure. It smells incredible.
“What makes it famous?” I ask after I swallow a mouthful of the saliva that had just pooled in my mouth.
He laughs. “Nothing, really. It’s just my favourite pie to make. It’s apple, cherry and rhubarb pie, and it’s perfect for Christmas. I was going to eat it by myself today, so I’m thrilled now to have someone to share it with.”
I put his famous pie on the kitchen bench, turning back to see him offering me another box. A familiar box.
“Oooh, cookies?” I squeal, snatching the box from his hand and holding it close to my chest. Just in case he’s going to change his mind and take them back.
“Yes, I baked them last night.”
I do the mental time maths. We’d finished our picnic well after 9p.m. and instead of going to sleep, he’d spent his time baking them for me.
He really is a unicorn.
“Thank you.” I open the box and inhale. These cookies are different from the previous batches but also delicious looking.
“I baked them especially for you. In lieu of a Christmas present…”
He rubs the back of his neck and I hasten to reassure him. “You didn’t need to bring me a present.”
His cheeks redden. “I kinda feel like I did. Like you deserve it.”
My heart goes pitter patter and I shove a cookie in my mouth to stop from saying anything foolish. Like ‘I love you’.
“Do you want one?” I offer him my cookie box, reluctantly, while the flavour dances over my tastebuds. Sugar, white chocolate and cranberries. The perfect Christmas cookie.
“No, they’re all for you.”
I gaze at him in wonder, trying to hide the admiration from my face. The man put together a picnic for me, made us a pie for Christmas lunch and baked cookies, especially for me.
Perfect.
“Lunch is almost ready.” I wrench my eyes from where they are getting lost in his, waving him to the dining table, which is set to Christmas perfection. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
“I’ll get it.” He moves with effortless grace around my kitchen while I toss the salad. When we’re both ready, we move to the dining table and sit down, chatting like we’ve been doing this—being together like this—forever.
“This all looks amazing,” he compliments me as I place the turkey on the table with a sense of pride. I’ve never cooked a Christmas lunch before, so the pressure I’m feeling to get it just right is real. “Thanks for having me over.”
I smile at him, thinking I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else, and raise my glass in a toast. “To new friends and new beginnings. And to the wall that brought us together.”
His deep laughter swirls through me as he clinks his glass against mine. “And to Love Actually . We wouldn’t be here without you.”
We both drink deeply while staring at each other, and I say a silent thank you to the movie makers behind my favourite rom-com. For bringing me solace in my time of need. And also, for bringing me…him.