I take his hand and lead him down the stairs and open the front door. He turns to kiss me.
“Two weeks,” I remind him. He loses control and slams me up against the wall and he kisses me.
Our kiss turns desperate. His hands are on my behind and his erection is digging into my hip; my insides begin to melt.
“Slow,” I pant against his lips.
He pulls back from me and we lean against each other with our foreheads touching.
Energy is swirling between us and I’m so close to caving and dragging him back up to my room.
“You’ve got two weeks.” He kisses me softly. “And then you’re mine.”
I nod, as I control my erratic breathing.
One last look. “Goodbye,” he says.
The door shuts and I lean on the back of it as I try to pull myself together.
Did that really just happen?
Excitement bubbles deep in my stomach.
Two weeks to lose weight, wax everything, and somehow get hot.
I smile goofily. Piece of cake.
Hi Pinkie,
What’s happening?
How was your day?
I smile and type my reply. It’s been three days since I saw Elliot, but Edgar has messaged me nonstop.
With every message I get from Edgar, my guilt toward Elliot grows; he’s confiding in me and I’m just blatantly lying to him. I want to tell him that it’s me, but it never feels like the right moment. I just love talking to Edgar and I love this insight I have into Elliot. It’s like I have a secret identity, one that reveals his deepest, darkest secrets.
I’m going to tell him, I have to. I’m just waiting for the right moment, and soon—this can’t go on.
It’s the weirdest thing. I know they are the same person, but it doesn’t feel like the same person. Elliot is strong, stubborn, and sexy, and on the other end of the spectrum, Edgar is deep, emotional, and sweet. Elliot hasn’t contacted me at all.
And it’s not flirty messaging, we really are just chatting.
Hi Ed.
My day was good. I went to the gym and then did some Christmas shopping and managed to get it nearly finished. I just have my brother to buy for now. What did you do?
I thought about Kate all day.
I smile as my heart does a somersault in my chest.
You’ve got it bad for this girl.
It seems so . . .
I bite my lip as I think what to write. I type:
What do you like about her?
I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out.
I lean on my hand and smile dreamily at my computer.
I can’t wait to find out either.
Eleven days to go.
Michael Bublé’s swoony voice echoes through the house as the sound of Christmas carols surrounds us.
“I think that’s nearly it, darling,” Daniel says as he fills his glass. “Presents are wrapped, food is prepared, and don’t forget you have to put the trifle together in the morning.”
I hold my glass up and he touches it with his. “Thank you.” I smile. “I couldn’t have got all this done without you.”
“It’s a pleasure. Are you sure you won’t come to my folks’ for tonight?”
“No, I’m fine here, honestly.”
“I don’t like the sound of you spending Christmas Eve alone.”
“I’m going to the gym and then I’m going to get an early night. Being the host on Christmas Day is hell.”
The doorbell chimes and Daniel’s eyes meet mine. “You expecting someone?”
“No.”
I open the front door to find a delivery man holding the biggest basket of beautiful pink flowers that I have ever seen.
“Kate Landon?”
“Yes.”
“I have a delivery for you.”
“Oh.”
“Sign here please.” He directs me where to sign and I take the huge basket from him.
“Thank you.” I close the door as I struggle with the basket and put it down on the dining table. “What in the world?” There must be three hundred flowers here, pinks and whites in every shade. I touch the precious petals. “So beautiful,” I whisper.
“Who are they from?” Daniel snaps.
“I have no idea.” I take the small, white envelope and open it.
Kate,
Merry Christmas,
Elliot
x
“Oh.” My mouth falls open in surprise. “A kiss at the end.” I hold the card to my heart.
“Who’s it from?” Daniel urges.
I pass him the card, he reads it, and then his eyes rise to meet mine. “Elliot . . . Miles?”
I smile.
His eyes widen. “Elliot Miles is sending you flowers?”
I snatch the card from him. “He’s just being nice, that’s all.”
“Are you kidding me?” He gasps. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I carry the flowers up the stairs with Daniel hot on my heels.
“Has something happened between you?” he asks.
“No.”
“Bullshit, something has to have happened.”
“He told me he liked me, that’s all.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?”
“I didn’t know if he was serious.” I place the flowers on my dressing table and smile as I reposition them.
“Well . . . I’m thinking he was serious, Kate. Call him, go over there right now, and thank him in the flesh.”