Page 26 of When We Were Young

She scooted to the coffee table and began to scribble, turning her head this way and that as she worked. She’d beendrawing for a few minutes when she said, ‘If I’m drawing something for you, you have to sing something for me.’

‘You’ve heard me sing before,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen you draw.’

‘No song, no drawing.’ She shielded the paper with her hand.

‘But you’ve finished it now – just show me.’

‘Sing.’

‘Wow. You’re bossy.’

‘Sing!’

He groaned and grimaced.

‘Stop bellyaching – just do it.’

He took a breath. ‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas…’ he crooned in his best Frank Sinatra voice and stopped there.

‘That’s it? That’s all I get?’

‘Did you see the size of that bit of paper?’ he laughed. ‘Come on, a deal’s a deal.’

She went to hand him the paper, snatched it back, but let him have it the second time.

It was a delicate line drawing of a snowflake, prongs radiating out from the centre and branching off in all directions, little dots and curlicues filling the spaces.

‘Lovely.’ He held it out to her. ‘Can you sign it, please?’

Smiling, she quickly wrote at the bottom and returned it. ‘What are you going to do with it?’

He took out his wallet and tucked it carefully behind the notes.

‘I’m going to sell it obviously, it’ll be worth a fortune when you’re famous.’

She guffawed at that. A big belly laugh, too big for her slender frame. It was infectious.

He kept her talking for an hour, hanging on her every word until their glasses were empty and she said, ‘Well, I’d better turn in.’

They cleared away the glasses, and as they crept upstairs, they could hear Aidan’s snoring despite the closed door.

‘Are you sure you want to go in there?’ he asked.

She groaned. ‘Not really…’

‘Have my bed. I can sleep on the couch.’

‘No! You can’t do that. If he keeps me awake,I’llgo on the couch.’

He opened the bedroom door a few inches. Light from the landing cast a stripe across the bed. Aidan lay exactly where they’d left him, mouth open, gurgling and snorting.

Will was surprised how close Emily’s face was as they peered around the door. Too close to see all of it at once – he had to take in each feature individually. Those dark doe eyes, the freckles on the bridge of her nose, her soft lips, slightly parted.

‘Goodnight,’ she whispered.

‘Night.’

She smiled and slipped inside.