Page 31 of Emma and the Elf Next Door

My eyes dart between his blue ones and his ruby red lips and I can’t think of a single thing I’ve ever wanted to do more.

“Yes.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing back against my couch and pulling me even closer.

“I think the hanging out should start now,” I tell him.

His eyebrows rise in confusion. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

I pick up the remote control and nod. “Yes, starting with watching a movie…”

He laughs, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before nodding at the TV. “What do you have in mind?”

I look at the wall, and then at his handsome face, smiling at the way this has all turned out.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

And then I press play and let the wonders ofLove Actuallywash over us both.

EPILOGUE

Noah

7 Days Later—New Year’s Eve

What a difference a week can make. Since Christmas Day, Emma and I have barely spent a minute apart and our relationship has gone from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye.

And soon we’ll be welcoming in a new year together.

It’s one of the rare afternoons we’ve spent apart during this silly season, and even though I saw her just the morning for brunch, I miss her already. It’s the strangest thing. One moment she’s a stranger sharing my wall, an annoying stranger at that, and now she’s…everything.

My phone dings with a notification, and I smile when I read the text from Emma.

I miss you!

I refrain from running next door and sweeping her into my arms—only just—texting back that I miss her too and I’ll see her soon.

We’re spending New Year’s Eve together. Like every other morning, day and night this week. And during this week, that time of year during which you wake up and you have to thinkhard to figure out what day it actually is, we’ve gotten to know each other. Likereallyknow each other.

We’ve spent time at the beach; me teaching Emma to surf, Emma buying me ice creams from the Gelato truck. We’ve spent time at home; me on the couch watching cricket, Emma re-organising my pantry.

I’ve learnt that Emma is Type A-level organised. She loves to do puzzles in her spare time and she’s teaching herself to knit. We’ve spent countless hours watching movies (mostly from the DVD collection I gave her), with Emma’s knitting needles click-clacking next to me. She showed me a box of finished scarves (the only thing she knows how to knit) in her scarily organised “just in case” cupboard. It’s the same cupboard that housed the now infamous ear plugs and her working DVD player. She really has everything a person could need in there.

On Boxing Day, after we’d spent a magical Christmas together, we’d Face called my family to wish them a Merry Christmas. Emma had sat next to me, smiling and blushing (while Gavin grinned and mouthed “Margot Robbie! I knew it!”) and when we hung up, she started knitting a scarf for my mum. She’s planning one for each of them.

The day after that, we’d visited her best friend Carly, who after overexerting herself with Christmas festivities is now on bed rest. She’d greeted us with an unhappy frown, which turned into pure joy upon seeing the chocolate cake I’d baked fresh for her that morning. I’m pretty sure she’s my best friend now, too.

On the other days—the long, summer days that melted into each other—Emma had tried to get me out running with her every morning. She succeeded twice. I’ve been teaching her to make her own sourdough bread. She’s succeeded no times. We’ve gone out for long leisurely brunches together, watched endless amounts of movies with popcorn and wine, and soaked up every bit of information a person could know about another.

I feel closer to her in this week than some people I’ve known my whole life, and I can’t wait to end this year with her, knowing we’ll be starting a new one together.

That’s it. We’ve had enough time apart.

I hurry through my final stages of getting ready and walk the four steps to her front door. The scene of the crime. With a grin I can’t contain, I knock and call out for her. When she opens the door, all the air whooshes out of my lungs.

Emma stands in front of me in a dress sparkling as bright as her eyes. It’s tight and black, covered in diamonds, ending mid-thigh to show off the long expanse of her beautiful, bronzed legs. Her golden hair is curled around her face and she’s wearing the highest of heels.

She looks…amazing.

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