Page 27 of Emma and the Elf Next Door

“Is that where you get it from?” I don’t know it for sure, but I sense she may be a workaholic.

“Yes.” She laughs. “I know I work too hard. It’s probably why I ended up with Oliver. I didn’t have time to find someone outside of work.”

“Pfft, Oliver.” I hate that guy.

Emma giggles. “He’s not so bad. And he had these dimples…”

A feeling not unlike jealousy claws at my chest and I stamp it down. “Dimples?” I scoff. “That just means his cheek muscles aren’t strong enough to support his smile.”

She stops walking and stares at me. Then she doubles over, laughing so hard she’s holding her stomach and shaking.

“You did not just say that,” she gasps between breaths.

My lips twitch. “What? It’s true. That man and his weak cheeks didn’t deserve you.”

Her cheeks heat and she beams a smile at me. We walk again and I can’t help it; I take her hand in mine. Her steps falter for a second then she continues walking, looking at me from the corner of her eyes.

I squeeze her hand. “Is this OK?”

She’s silent for a beat before squeezing back. “It’s more than OK.”

Warmth fills my chest where the jealousy had been and my heart pounds in my ears. We walk slowly, hand-in-hand, around the block, and I feel for the first time ever, that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

With exactly the person I’m supposed to be with.

*****

“Do you want to get some ice cream?”

I gape at Emma and her question. I’m still full from lunch.How can she possibly be contemplating eating more food?

“Ice cream doesn’t count,” she answers my un-asked question. “And I feel like a gelato.”

She skips to where an ice cream truck is parked next to the beach and I follow behind her. She’s such a vision—with her hair hanging down her back glowing gold in the sunshine, and a radiant smile on her face—as she orders her ice cream, I can’t believe I ever thought she was a sad, lonely, cat lady. Who couldn’t keep a man.

Well, it seems the joke’s on me.

“Are you sure you don’t want one?” she asks, licking her gelato like it’s her job.

“I’m good.”

We take a seat on a small park bench facing the ocean and watch the waves lap against the shore.

“I love it here,” I tell her. “Apart from the kitchen, this is my happy place. I love that I can walk to the beach and go surfing whenever the mood strikes. I love that my job is only a tram ride away. I love everything about this city.”

She watches me, her small tongue making fast work at demolishing her melting ice cream cone. “Does that mean you plan on staying?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Here? In Melbourne?”

I hear the uncertainty in her voice and I want to reassure her. She’s wondering if this is just a pit stop for me. She needn’t worry, even before meeting her—yesterday!—I’d known Melbourne was my forever home.

“I’m never leaving.” She sighs with…relief? “I mean, I’ll always miss my family, and I’m trying to convince them to move out here to be with me. But this is it, you know? When you feel it in your bones, when you’re in the place you’re meant to be?”

She stops licking her ice cream and stares at me, nodding. “It’s just like when you meet that person you’re meant to be with…”

“Yes…” I breathe out the word, leaning forward to wipe the spot of ice cream from the corner of her mouth. “Exactly.”

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