I put my hands on her hips, pulling her in for a kiss that starts off soft and gentle and grows to something that leaves us both breathless.
“What’s this?” I ask as she twirls in front of me, a pretty blush on her cheeks growing under my heated gaze. “I thought we’re spending the night in?”
She kicks off her heels with a relieved sigh. “We are,” she assures me. “Carly just wanted to live vicariously through me and made me get dressed up in my ‘smallest dress’—her words, not mine—because she can’t. The poor thing is so miserable, stuck at home in bed, I couldn’t say no.”
“Well,” I pull her back into my arms, nuzzling her neck with my nose. “She’s getting another cake as a thank you from me.”
Emma’s giggle is light and happy, and I revel in it. Gone is the woman who cried alone on her couch less than two weeks ago; this version of Emma is loving life. With me.
“So, we’re not going out?”
“Nope.”
She grabs a bottle of wine off her kitchen bench and takes it to the couch, where she’s set up all the snacks that we’ll need for our night in. There’s just one thing missing.
“Hang on,” I tell her, stepping back outside and retrieving the box I’d left there to surprise her. “Here.”
Her face lights up as she takes it from me, the biggest box yet. Over the last week, I’d arrived on her doorstep with a smile and a box of cookies, and she’d delighted in both every time. Today, I may have gone a bit overboard, baking her two dozen cookies. A mixture of all her favourites.
“Noah, this is too much.” She’s sorting through them all: sugar cookies, gingerbread cookies, chocolate chip cookies. Even the fudge double chocolate cookies that are a pain to make. They’re all in there for her eating pleasure.
“It’s not nearly enough,” I tell her, planting another small kiss on her lips. Just to taste her. “I know how much you love them.”
Her eyes shine with sincerity. “I do. I really do.”
“Good.”
We sit down together on her couch, Emma with a cookie in her mouth, looking at the pile of DVDs we have left to choose from. We’d gotten through about half of the ones I’d left for her as a joke—joke’s on me, they are all pretty entertaining—and have pickedKill Bill Volume 1as our favourite. Who would have thought it?
“Which one are we watching tonight?”
Emma gives me a sly smile, one that has me on alert, as she picks up a DVD I haven’t seen before.
“New Year’s Eve,” I read from the cover, my heart sinking at the sight of it. It looks so bad.
She snuggles into me, pressing a kiss on my cheek and batting her long lashes in my direction. “It’s fitting, don’t you think?”
“Uh, what’s it about?”
“Well, it’s got a whole heap of couples and singles and intertwining storylines…” she trails off, biting her lip, looking sheepish.
“It sounds likeLove Actually.” My voice is flat, but I can’t help the smile that’s tugging at my lips.The minx is trying to torture me withLove Actually 2.0!
“No!” she disagrees, much to my relief. “It’s not nearly as good asLove Actually.”
I choke on nothing—how is it possible for a movie to be worse thanLove Actually?—and am ready to argue, when I look into her eyes, those big green eyes, and instead of arguing, I melt. Turns out, I’ll watch just about anything if it means sitting on the couch with this woman who I’m falling in love with.
“Fine.” She squeals and claps loudly. “But you owe me.”
She pats my hand. “Sure, whatever you say. Tomorrow we can watch some ball sport, to keep your man card in check.”
I laugh and settle back, tucking her under my arm, feeling a deep sense of peace. As Emma presses play on yet another terrible romantic comedy I’m going to suffer through, I’m transported back in time. To listening to the muffled sounds of Hugh Grant talking about finding love everywhere. And as Emma sighs happily next to me, squeezing my hand in hers, I find myself agreeing.
Love can be found anywhere.
Even through a wall.
The End
