Christmas at Hope Cottage: A Magical Feel-Good Romance Novel(36)

He laughed. ‘You sure you want to carry on?’

She nodded. As much as she’d dearly love to just sink onto her bed, she didn’t want to make him give up any more of his free time for her.

‘Who’s Nico?’ she asked as he made their coffee.

‘He’s an employee – helps out with the Tapas Hut, good kid.’

She nodded. ‘I must come and see it. Dot and Aggie said I’d like it.’

‘Yeah? That would be great.’

His mobile started to ring. Emma saw the name flash up on the screen, Holly.

Sandro switched it to silent.

‘Aren’t you going to get that?’

His eyes were dark, unreadable. ‘Nah. Here you go,’ he said, handing her a mug, and they got to work.

An hour later, despite the strong coffee, he was shaking her gently awake.

‘W-what?’ she said, staring into dark, concerned eyes.

‘We can pick up the rest tomorrow morning, but for now, bedtime,’ he said, firmly.

She blinked, sitting up. ‘But I can’t ask that of you.’

He gave a soft laugh. ‘You haven’t – I’m offering.’

‘But why?’

He shrugged. ‘Why not? We’re friends, right, Pajarita?’

She grinned. ‘Not that I deserve it. I was pretty horrid to you when I first got here.’

‘Not really. Anyway, I’m tough, I can take it – and I mean, you’ve been through the wars, I get it.’

She swallowed, trying to find the right words. ‘Well, anyway, thanks.’

‘See you later.’

When he left, she heard him speaking on the phone. ‘Sorry, Holly – it wasn’t a good time, what’s up?’ And before she climbed into her bed, the silk screen blocking out most of the wintry sun’s rays, Pennywort snoring softly, she wondered briefly who Holly was before she fell into a deep sleep.



* * *



The next morning, Sandro looked at her. ‘I got something for you.’

‘For me?’ she said, surprised, as he bent over and placed something next to her on the small gardening bench.

‘It’s nothing much, but I was thinking about what you said the other day – how hard it is for you to read – and I thought, well, this might help. You mentioned that sounds are okay now…’

It was an old portable CD player. She looked at it in surprise. ‘It’s old – but it works. I thought you could listen to audiobooks, maybe? I went past the library.’ He gave a little laugh as he admitted, ‘I had to join. I didn’t really know what you might like, so I got a few.’

He handed over two audiobooks, one a detective story, the other an epic saga called Midnight in Prague.

She turned them over, looking at the pictures, her voice wobbling slightly, and she felt tears prick her eyes. ‘Thank you.’

He touched her hand. His eyes were gentle, kind. She felt herself staring, and then frowning in confusion when he suddenly stood up.

‘So, where did we leave off?’ he asked, taking a seat at the laptop.

That afternoon, while the snow fell down, and Evie and her aunts worked on a recipe to bring a family together over the holidays, she put the first CD in the player and sat back in the alcove, with Pennywort’s head in her lap, listening to the detective story Sandro had brought her, a smile on her face. For the first time in ages, she felt almost normal.





Chapter Twelve





Through the frosted window, Emma watched as Jack jogged past with Gus at his heels, the bear-like Newfoundland matching his pace. The household was still with that quiet hum that cloaked the cottage in its slumber. It was icy cold, but she didn’t bother with her robe, or putting on a hat; there wasn’t time.

Hesitating just for a second, she unlocked the door, crossing the garden quickly to open the low iron gate.

Jack stopped and circled back, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

‘Hi,’ she said, a little hesitantly.

His face was serious. ‘Hi.’

His eyes were dark in the pre-dawn light. They were standing on either side of the low gate, a hand’s breath apart.

His hand came out to touch her face, his long fingers gentle. She closed her eyes. She knew she should move away, but she couldn’t.

‘I love you,’ he said. ‘It’s only ever been you, you know that?’

Then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She sank into it, her hands coming up to touch his hair; somehow they, and her leg, were miraculously healed. She felt deliriously happy, and warmth spread throughout her chest. It was everything she had ever wanted.

Her eyes snapped open. She was back in her bed, Pennywort snoring loudly on her pillow and letting out small yips in his sleep, which must have woken her up.

One of her hands came up to touch her flushed cheeks. The other was still in its cast. It was just a dream, she told herself. But it had felt so real, so wonderful. Her body had been healed, and she had Jack in her arms… She sighed, lay back against the pillows and tried not to think about him – and failed. She closed her eyes and groaned, cursing the dream, how it had made things so simple, when it had always been anything but simple between them. Even from the start.