Page 20 of Emma and the Elf Next Door

What have I done?

The minutes tick over and I text Carly, letting her know her plan was terrible and I should never have listened to her. As I wait for her response, I pull up the trusty real estate dot com website and again start the search for a new place to live. Because if Noah decides he doesn’t want to take advantage of my two glasses to share the bottle of wine, I’m going to have to move. There’s no way I can share a wall with someone who offered peace and then took it back.

Was this all part of his master plan? Was his white flag a decoy to lull me into a sense of security? Was he planning on enticing me with cookies, only to reject me all along?

Carly’s messages trying to talk me off the ledge do little to stop me from continuing down this anxiety spiral, as the minutes keep on ticking by without a knock on the door. And after a long unanswered hour later, I give in with a sigh of defeat.

He’s not coming.

Feeling worse than I have in weeks, I wash my face, pull my hair up in a messy bun, get back into my ratty pyjamas and put my glasses on. I’m going to watchLove Actuallyat full volume and drink a bottle of wine by myself and I’m going to forget all about the jerk next door.

Decision made, I flop on the couch, cocoon myself in a blanket, turn on the TV and wipe away an errant tear.

And then I hear a knock at the door.

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?”

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