Page 98 of Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
“Would it help if I mentioned I grew up on a council estate?”
“He would probably make you a friend for life.”
They pushed through the crowd and hovered by the community birdfeeder, which stood on the edge of the green. The excitement was ramping up, and someone in the crowd had brought a set of jingle bells, which added another level of twee to the chocolate box scene, with its laughing children and Christmas music. Nory was always taken aback by how many people actually lived in the village; it seemed like such a tiny place until you squeezed everyone together on the small patch of grass.
Nory’s mum and dad emerged from the White Hart, paper pints in hand, and joined them, signaling another round of hugs, kisses, and introductions. Her dad nearly keeled over laughing when Dev held out his hand and said, “Hello, Mr. Noel, good to meet you. I’m adopted, I was brought up on a council estate, I went to state school, and I am filthy rich of my own making.”
“Well, then,” said Jake, laughing, “I daresay you are good enough for our Amie in that case. Let me introduce you to some of the lads.”
And with that, Dev was whisked off to the pub garden, where even the local farmers seemed starstruck by his handsomeness.
“Oh my god!” Ameerah exclaimed as they watched Jake clapping Dev on the back.
“What?” asked Nory.
“I’ve gone and fallen for man-Barbie, haven’t I?”
“Yes, you have,” Nory agreed.
“Now would probably be a good time to stop referring to him as ‘man-Barbie,’ then, my love,” said Sasha. “I know you only say it in jest, but if Donald Trump has taught us anything, it’s that locker-room banter is insidious; objectification works both ways.”
“Sorry, Sasha,” said Ameerah.
Nory’s mum kissed Ameerah on the cheek. “Let yourself fall in love, my girl.”
“Steady on, Sasha. At the moment I’m only committing to like-like him.”
“Oh, pish!” Sasha waved her words away. “You’re well on the way to love, I can see it in your eyes.”
“But what if it doesn’t work out?”
“Then we’ll be here to pick up the pieces, won’t we, Nory?”
“Every time,” said Nory, feeling a rush of love for her amazing—slightly bananas—mum and her best friend.
“I’m not sure I’d be very good at being in love.” Ameerah bit her lip.
“Nobody knows what they’re doing, Amie, that’s why they call it ‘falling’ in love. Now if we could just get someone to steal our Nory’s heart, we’d have a full house.”
At that moment, the crowd along the path parted, and Lord Abercrombie strode into view with Isaac beside him. Nory’s heart sped up. Isaac stopped at the edge of the crowd while the marquis carried on to the center of the green to stand by the tree.
A hush fell over the gathering, and the marquis began to speak. It was an uplifting speech; he managed to acknowledge just about every element of Hartmead, from the farmers to the oral surgeons. Nory thought it no wonder the community remained so close, and so protective of Robinwood Castle, whenthe marquis kept the ties between them so strong. He might have made a good politician if he hadn’t committed himself to keeping the family estate going.
Her ears may have been listening to Lord Abercrombie’s rousing words, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off Isaac. He in his turn seemed unable to break his gaze from hers.
The marquis’s words became indistinct, as though he were underwater, and her vision seemed to tunnel so that the crowd was a blurry backdrop to Isaac’s brilliance. Caught in his tractor-beam stare, Nory got the distinct sense that she would never be done looking at him, that she would never tire of this view. She’d found people attractive before, of course, but she’d never wanted to throw herself in and drown in them. This was new. And it wasn’t just his aesthetics—though they were greatly appealing. She looked at Isaac and she saw hands that dug the earth but also held a paintbrush, eyes that studied the delicate science of plants in the ground and searched the stars far above them. She wanted to know what made him tick, to taste his thoughts, she wanted to consume him and be consumed by him. The urge to run to him at that moment was so great, she actually found herself grinding her boots into the ground to keep her in place.
A cheer went up around her, and Nory was dragged back to reality by the unified shouting of “One! Two! Three!” before the enormous fir tree spangled into life in an explosion of fairy lights. The air was filled with whoops and cheers, and beneath them the brass band struck up and the gospel choir began to sing “Deck the Halls.” Nory cast her eyes sideways and saw Ameerah pulled in close to Dev, his arms around her waist as he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh softly. On the other side of her, her dad had one arm slung loosely across her mum’s shoulders. The snow was falling harder, much to thejoy of the children all around them, giving the tree the glittery, indistinct twinkle of a snow-globe tableau.
The pull toward Isaac grew too strong to ignore, and she found herself walking over to him in spite of herself. He watched her as though he had expected her, as if he had summoned her. She reached him and stopped, the toes of their boots almost touching. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, and they bore into her now, dark hickory irises and thick black lashes. Without a word, he reached his arms around her, closing the gap between them, and pressed his mouth to hers. In the far reaches of her mind, a thought that people would be watching tried to make itself heard, but the sensation of Isaac’s lips on hers left no room for other considerations.
When they pulled apart, the crowd had thinned a little, drawn by the warmth offered by the pubs and café. The brass band had stopped playing to consume the trays of steaming mulled wine presented to them by one of the landladies, and the choir had the limelight to themselves as they belted out “The First Noel.” Nory’s senses returned, and she glanced about her. But if any of her family had noticed her and Isaac pashing on the green, they’d made themselves scarce now. Nory was relieved she wouldn’t have to deal with their teasing right away.
“Um, would you like to come to the wedding tomorrow as my plus-one?” she asked, feeling a little nervous.
“And how would the celebrity bride feel about having the gardener at her wedding?”
“It was her idea,” said Nory, and then added quickly, “but I’d really like you to come.”
