Page 2 of Emma and the Elf Next Door

Gee, thanks.

“Oliver, what you’re describing are the traits you should want in a PA, not a partner.”

“I know that now. I know now that all the things I thought were important in a partner, well, they really aren’t. It’s how they make you feel that is important. What I want is someone whobrings colour into my life. Someone who makes me laugh and loosens me up. I want Lilly.”

Great. Fantastic. He wants Lilly.

What about me?

I mumble through some platitudes about following his heart and then leave him to figure himself out. It’s apparent that my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—is in love with someone else. Someone who inspires big feelings in him. Which is great, except where does that leave me?

Alone, I guess.

All alone and heartbroken.

Maybe it’s time to get a cat?

CHAPTER 1

Emma

Two months later

There’s absolutely nothing merry about my Christmas.

I watch from the sidelines as my colleagues happily drink and dance their way through the company-funded Christmas party. They all look so carefree and light; like they’re really soaking in the end-of-year celebration.

And then there’s me. Standing awkwardly on the outskirts, sipping my one glass of champagne, shifting in my sky-high heels, the ones which pinch my toes but also make my legs look long and lean, observing the festivities but not partaking in any of it. I’ve been in this same position for most of the night, half-hidden, off to the side of the bar, watching my dreamy ex-boyfriend fawn over his new girlfriend—the same girl who I’d been sure he was in love with the entire time we were together—wishing not for the first time I hadn’t fallen for a man I work with.

“Would you look at that!”

Groan.I know that voice. It’s James from accounting, and he’s currently pointing to the mistletoe he’s waving above myhead in a not-so-subtle attempt to extort a kiss out of me. The man has been relentless since Oliver broke up with me two months ago, and while it should be a balm for my bruised ego, all I can think is how annoying it is that my ex-boyfriend ends up with his dream girl—the imperfectly perfect Lilly—and I’m stuck being pursued by a man who wears shoes without socks.

And look, I know it’s the trendy thing for men to wear pants that end well above their ankles and shoes with no socks—I watchSummer HouseandVanderpump Rulesand see what the ‘it’ crowd are wearing—but that doesn’t mean it looks good.

“Not going to happen, James,” I mutter, putting my empty champagne glass down with a sigh. It’s time to call it a night. I’ve tortured myself enough for one evening.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” James peers over my shoulder as I order an Uber. As I tap away, I keep one eye on Oliver and Lilly with a sense of foreboding. They’re so loved up; I fear Oliver will drop to one knee at any moment and drive the final stake through my heart.

“I’ll see you after the holidays.”

James puts his mistletoe in his pocket with a pout, scouring the room for his next victim, while I make my way to the exit, skirting around the happy, festive people, keeping my cloud of doom to myself. I’m so grumpy, I may as well call myself the Grinch and be done with it.

“Merry Christmas, Emma.”

I stop short, having almost walked straight into Lilly. She’s wearing an ugly Christmas sweater and a reindeer ears headband holds back her long, curly hair. I want to say she looks ridiculous, but really, she’s adorable.

“Merry Christmas, Lilly.”

She beams at me and I feel two feet tall. When I was dating Oliver, I’d been so jealous of her, of the way he looked at her, that I’d deliberately called her the wrong name. She’d been Lucy, andLacey and Laney. Anything to take the shine off her and put it on to me. A futile endeavour as it turned out; all it accomplished was making me the bad guy and Lilly the one Oliver had to rescue…from me. Man, I’d read that whole situation wrong.

“You look beautiful.” Lilly’s eyes shine with sincerity and my stomach twists. The woman is lovely; she’d always been lovely. I’d been so knotted up with jealousy that I’d missed it.

I smooth a hand over my long, blonde, straight hair and offer her a small smile. “Thanks. So do you.”

A flush blooms on her cheeks and she looks so pleased with the compliment, I feel like an even bigger jerk. Lilly is my polar opposite: chaotic, messy, always one step away from disaster. Where my outfit tonight is perfectly colour co-ordinated, a mix of classy beige and gold tones, hers is a kaleidoscope of mismatched greens and purples and reds and pinks. She should look like an eyesore, but she looks like a small Christmas fairy. And Oliver loves every inch of her.

“Hey, Emma.”

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