Chapter Seventeen Noelle
If looks could kill, I’d be a dead woman right now.
Hoxton is frozen to the spot, eyes wide, a deer-in-headlights expression on his face.
If I didn’t feel so bad about throwing him into this madness without any warning, I might’ve laughed.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hoxton look so off guard.
In fact, I don’t think he’s ever been so off guard either.
I shoot him an apologetic look and mouth ‘I’m sorry’ as my family immediately start bombarding him with questions.
I can see panic blooming in his eyes as my grandmother’s voice cuts through with a loud and questioning, ‘I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend.’
‘He’s not, Gran,’ Eve says, and I don’t even have to look at the screen to know that she’s grinning deviously. ‘Alex…’
If she keeps saying his name like that – drowning in not-so-subtle implication – I’m going to scream.
‘… is one of Noelle’s clients.’
That triggers another round of loud, garbled questioning from my family gathered around the phone.
Hoxton looks very much like he’s hoping aliens will descend upon Earth and beam him up. I can’t say that I blame him. I’m currently hoping the aliens will take pity on me too.
On a good day, my family are a lot. There’s a reason Eve waited two years before bringing Nathan to one of our annual Christmas reunions, and she always jokes that she had to secure the ring first so he couldn’t change his mind.
This is most definitely not the ideal scenario I would’ve had in mind for Hoxton meeting my family.
Not that I ever had any intention of him meeting them in the first place, but still.
Not ideal.
The man is practically vibrating with nerves.
He keeps running a hand through his hair, like he’s trying to smooth down his sleep-tousled curls but they’re not cooperating.
It’s hard to believe that this is the same person who I watched scowl wordlessly at his Board of Directors from the head of the dinner table just a few days ago.
Where has that confidence, that bravado, that casual indifference to everyone but himself gone?
‘A client?’ someone says; I think, from the sound of it, it’s my cousin Jean. ‘And that’s where she is right now? In bed with him? That’s a bit saucy, isn’t it?’
Thank you, Jean.
They all start talking over each other like Hoxton and I aren’t in the room. Which, I suppose we’re not. But still.
‘We can hear you; you know?’ I say, raising my voice a little louder when someone – Eve, of course – starts running through Hoxton’s credentials, telling everyone all about HoxTech.
They don’t acknowledge me because Eve’s helpful bout of information-sharing has in turn elicited another round of oohs and ahhs because HoxTech is a household name.
One of my uncles starts gushing about a HoxTech vacuum he bought eight years ago that still works like it’s brand new.
A cousin asks if they can get a discount on the latest HoxTech laptop.
Someone else mentions something about a phone.
I had no idea my family were such big fans.
The more they talk, the more it looks like Hoxton is about to bolt. He’s sitting on the very edge of the bed, his body angled towards the door, and I know that the only thing stopping him from making a beeline for freedom is the fact that the camera is still on him.
I don’t understand how my family can’t feel his tension vibrating through the screen, but I know I need to intervene before that aneurysm Roland mentioned three days ago finally becomes a reality.
‘I’m stuck here because of the storm,’ I tell them, turning the camera back to me to give him a little bit of a reprieve. I half expect him to sprint out of the room the second the camera is off him, but I think he’s still frozen in place because he doesn’t move an inch.
‘Hox— Alex was kind enough to let me use his spare room while we ride it out. That’s all.’
‘And you’re both in the spare room, then?’ Eve says and I swear to God, I’m going to throttle her as soon as I see her again. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
I glare at the screen, but Eve’s deceptively innocent smile doesn’t waver.
‘We had a heating issue,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Nothing scandalous, I promise.’
My family members exchange knowing glances, and it’s clear that their curiosity hasn’t been satisfied by my explanation.
‘A shame,’ Eve says with a dramatic sigh. ‘You know how much we love a scandal.’
‘Didn’t you say you guys are about to start cooking?’ I ask, still scowling at my twin. As usual, she isn’t fazed.
‘That’s right,’ Gran calls from somewhere in the background, her voice fading away in a way that tells me she’s already wandering off towards the kitchen. ‘Come on. Quick time now. If you don’t help, you’re not eating tomorrow.’
Everyone grumbles but, one by one, they all slowly disappear from the camera frame.
Gran isn’t playing when she says, ‘If you don’t help, you don’t eat.
’ It’s another one of my favourite Jones family Christmas traditions.
Christmas Eve spent in the kitchen – everyone pitching in however they can.
Even the younger ones get given a job, mostly setting out the plates, cutlery and cups for the big day.
It’s hectic. It’s fun. It’s my family. And God, if I don’t miss it.
Hoxton breathes a sigh of relief as the chaos dies down. I can practically see the tension draining from his shoulders, but the relief is short-lived because Eve is still grinning up from the screen.
‘You’re evil,’ I mutter to Eve, shooting her a look that promises retribution later. She just laughs, delighting in the chaos she’s caused. ‘You know that, right?’
She shrugs and then makes a show of peering around, like she can somehow see through the confines of the camera. ‘Is he still there, or did we scare him off?’
Against all odds, Hoxton is still here. He’s still perched on the edge of the bed, looking borderline shellshocked. I don’t think he’s said a word since I answered the call.
He looks up suddenly, his eyes meeting mine. And then— ‘He’s still here,’ he says, voice low and filled with something I don’t think I’ve ever heard before. It’s amusement tinged with something else, but I’m not sure what.
Eve squeals, obviously delighted, and claps her hands together. ‘Put him on. Put him on!’
‘Are you going to behave?’ I ask, trying to inject as much sternness into my voice as possible. Though, given the way she quirks a brow at me, I’m not sure I’ve succeeded.
‘Of course,’ she says sweetly. And I’ve known my sister long enough to know that the tone of voice she’s using right now promises nothing but chaos. But Hoxton’s sitting next to me, listening to every word, and there’s no point in delaying the inevitable.
I shoot him another apologetic grimace and then turn the camera in his direction.
Eve’s smile widens. ‘Alex, darling.’
Hoxton hesitates for a moment, glancing at me as if he’s looking for permission, before he reluctantly scoots closer to the camera.
The expression on his face is a mix of apprehension and curiosity.
Eve has always had a way of luring people in with her charisma, a talent she flaunts shamelessly.
I can almost see the invisible thread she weaves to draw Hoxton into her web, and part of me wants to warn him, but another part is curious to see how he’ll fare against her.
‘You must be Noelle’s sister,’ he says slowly, cautiously.
‘Eve. I’m sure you’ve heard so much about me. All good things, I hope.’
Hoxton glances at me briefly, panic sparking in his eyes.
‘She’s messing with you,’ I tell him, leaning forward so I can get in frame and roll my eyes at her. The movement sends me brushing against his shoulder, but he doesn’t pull back. ‘Be nice,’ I say, in warning.
‘Right, right.’ Eve waves a dismissive hand in front of her face. ‘Aren’t I always?’ She pulls her camera a little closer to her face, like she’s trying to inspect Hoxton. ‘I just wanted to meet the guy who’s keeping Noelle all to himself for Christmas.’
I expect Hoxton to blanch at that, but he only responds with a slight eyebrow raise. ‘You mean the storm?’
Eve blinks silently for a few seconds and then bursts into laughter.
In that moment, I know that Hoxton’s got her.
There’s nothing Eve likes more than someone who can hold their own against her without getting flustered.
It’s about 90 per cent of the reason why she fell so hard for Nathan – he never lets her dramatics slide and can give back as good as he gets.
I feel myself start to relax; tension I didn’t know I was holding onto falling from me in waves.
Eve’s laughter fades into a smirk as she leans back, clearly impressed. ‘That too. But…’ The smirk fades away into something serious. ‘It is just going to be the two of you for Christmas, isn’t it?’
I swallow. I’ve been desperately avoiding the reality of the situation but Eve has pulled it to the forefront and I have to finally accept that I won’t make it home in time for Christmas.
Even if the storm stopped right at this very moment, I wouldn’t be able to leave.
The roads would still be an icy death trap, so I’d have to crawl along at a snail’s pace.
If I’m lucky, I might get to Gran’s by Boxing Day.
The soft snort of laughter I allow myself isn’t enough to hide my dismay at the fact that this will be my first Christmas alone.
My heart pangs slightly.
‘I don’t know if you’ve realised, but Christmas is a big deal in our family,’ Eve continues, that same serious expression on her face. ‘Make sure Noelle gets to enjoy it, all right?’
I expect Hoxton to scoff, maybe roll his eyes and then launch into another mini tirade about how Christmas is nothing but a consumerist nightmare. But, to my surprise, Hoxton’s face softens and he nods, his expression unexpectedly solemn.
‘I’ll do my best.’
I don’t know what he sees on my face when he looks up to meet my eye, but whatever it is makes his lips curl upwards into a soft smile. Rare. One just for me. ‘Noelle deserves a proper Christmas, even if it’s not the one she’s used to.’
Eve studies him for a moment, her eyes softening before she breaks into a smile. ‘Good. Because if you don’t, I know where to find you.’
Hoxton laughs – a real, genuine laugh that has the corners of his eyes creasing – and Eve smiles approvingly at him before turning her gaze back to me. ‘And you. You better make the best of it too. Don’t let the absence of our crazy family ruin your Christmas spirit.’
I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat. ‘I promise I’ll try.’
Eve gives me a satisfied nod. ‘Good. Now I’ve got to go before Gran makes good on the whole ‘no eating’ thing tomorrow.’ She beams at us one last time before hanging up.
The call ends and there’s a moment of quiet between me and Hoxton.
It’s Christmas Day tomorrow and the reality of spending it away from my family settles in my chest like a lead weight.
But I’ve promised Eve I’m going to at least try to make the best of it, so I shake my head, banishing any negative thoughts, and fix a smile onto my face.
‘That was—’ I begin.
‘A lot,’ Hoxton finishes for me. He gives me a sideways glance, his eyes searching mine for something I can’t quite decipher. And then, as if deciding on something, he shifts closer to me on the bed. The distance between us closes until our knees are touching, sending a pulse of warmth through me.
I can feel his hooded gaze on me, intense and unwavering, like he’s trying to read my thoughts.
My heartbeat quickens in my chest as I meet his eyes, the air suddenly charged with an electric tension.
For a moment, it feels as if the world has fallen away, leaving just the two of us in our own little bubble.
I clear my throat and the sound breaks the spell that’s wrapped itself around us. Hoxton blinks, like he’s just woken up from a trance, and I spy a faint, pink blush colouring his cheeks.
‘Sorry for the madness that is my family,’ I say softly. ‘I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.’
He shrugs like it’s no big deal and he hasn’t just spent the last ten minutes frozen in place while my family hurled question after question at him.
‘It was…’ He pauses for a moment, a frown furrowing his brows.
‘It was nice seeing your family come together like that for you. You seem close. Especially with your sister.’
‘We are. Like I said, Christmas is really the only time we can all get together like that, but that doesn’t mean we don’t keep in touch the rest of the time.’ A wistful smile tugs at my lips. ‘Everyone is always in everyone’s business. That’s just how we are.’
He lets out a quiet laugh. ‘I can see that.’
‘Sometimes I think I was destined to love Christmas,’ I murmur, not really thinking about what I’m saying. ‘I mean, you can’t really name your kids Noelle and Eve and not expect them to be Christmas mad, can you?’
Hoxton laughs. ‘They are very fitting names for the two of you.’
‘You should meet my cousin Casper – guess what his favourite holiday is?’
Another laugh. I’m really starting to enjoy the sound.
Our conversation reaches a natural lull and, if this were anyone else, I’d take the opportunity to ask about his family.
But I think I sense a tinge of bitterness in his words.
Nothing overwhelming, but it’s definitely there.
The fallout from our conversation last night rears its ugly head in my memories and I quickly banish the idea of broaching it again with him.
Instead, I decide to switch topics and lighten the mood. I clap my hands together and push myself off the bed. ‘So, what’s the plan for today? More spreadsheets?’
Hoxton chuckles good-naturedly, and any sign of the bitterness from yesterday is gone. ‘Not today. What do you want to do?’
The answer comes to me immediately. ‘I want to cook.’