“How would you know? Maybe I say ‘smushy’ all the time.”
“Do you say ‘smushy’ all the time?”
“Is your Uber here yet?”
I smile, checking my phone. “A few minutes away. I should say goodbye.”
She nods, gesturing for me to go ahead of her back down the hall and into the sitting room to announce my departure. There’s a big rumpus about my going so soon and Jonathan tries to persuade me to stay, with the promise of a night of silly board games ahead, while Lord Meade suggests I stay at least for coffee, but I stand my ground.
“See you at Dashwell, Emily.” Cordelia grins. “Merry Christmas and all that.”
“Merry Christmas!”
“I’ll show you out,” Tom says suddenly. “Make sure you’re not waiting around in the cold for your Uber.”
“Thanks,” I say, my heart fluttering as he hands me my coat.
He leaves the door on the latch, then comes down the front steps with me, his hands in his trouser pockets.
“You should go back in,” I say, wrapping my coat around me. “The Uber is just around the corner and you’re not wearing a jacket! It’s freezing.”
“I wanted to ask you something,” he begins, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I wondered whether you’d like to go for a drink. With me, I mean. After Christmas. And the wedding. Basically, in the new year. Yeah. Sorry.”
I’m so taken aback, I don’t say anything straightaway, staring up at him, a rabbit caught in headlights.
“Look,” he continues, “I only asked Mona to the Christmas party because Mum told me you were coming and I thought you might be there with George. But I felt like such an idiot because I didn’t want to spend time with anyone else.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t feel awkward if you don’t want to go for a drink. I get it. It’s quite soon after George and stuff. But it’s just been really nice getting to know you. I like being with you. So, yeah, thought I’d ask.”
No. I’m sorry, Tom, but I can’t go for a drink with you, because you think my name is Emily Taylor and that I’ve known Cordelia for a few years. You have no idea who I am. And it really sucks because I like you. A lot. But I can’t go for a drink with you because that would be unfair. It would be a lie.
I’m so sorry, Tom, but as your sister’s friend and with so much going on with the wedding, I think it would be inappropriate.
I’m so sorry, Tom, but it’s too soon after George. I hope we can still be friends.
That’s the answer. He gave you the perfect out.That’s the answer.
Say it. Say no.
“Yeah. I’d love to. That sounds fun.”
His face lights up. “Great!”
I blush, my eyes searching his.
He’s not sure at first, faltering slightly as he brings his hand up to brush his fingers so gently along my cheekbone that I can barely feel them, but a jolt goes through me all the same. As his eyes flicker across my face, trying to read my expression, I lift my chin purposefully and glance down at his lips before meeting his eyes again. We kiss, soft at first and then harder as he pulls me closer, his hands sliding down my back, until I pull away slightly, coming up for air, unable to stop smiling.
“I… I have to go,” I say quietly.
“Merry Christmas, Emily,” he says, our foreheads touching, the crinkles forming around his eyes from his wide grin.
“Merry Christmas.”
He steps back and I turn in a mad daze, walking toward the waiting Uber in the middle of the road, its hazard lights flashing, the driver yawning at the wheel. Tom stands on the pavement, watching the car pull away before he heads up the steps and goes back into the house.
I slump back in my seat and close my eyes.
