‘That’s sad,’ I mumble.
He shrugs. ‘I’ve made my peace with it. And this isn’tabout me. It’s aboutyou. And why you should follow the dream you’ve had for your entire life.’
There’s a lump in my throat I can’t swallow down, a strange mixture of gratitude and disbelief. I want to argue, to point out every reason why I couldn’t do it, why I’ll never be able to pull off something as big as a restaurant. But for some reason, it’s harder to keep pushing that back. Something in me is starting to hope. To dare to think that maybe this dream I’ve had for so long isn’t as impossible as it seems.
I shake my head, trying to regain some composure. ‘I don’t know what to say to that.’
‘You don’t have to say anything,’ he replies easily, his gaze softening. ‘But you should listen. You’ve got something good here, Noelle. Don’t let it go.’
I feel something inside me stir, something that’s been dormant for years – something that was so scared of failure, it built a fortress around itself. Hoxton’s words are like a hammer to that wall, cracking through it, piece by piece.
For the first time in a long while, I let myself consider the possibility that I might actually have a chance. Maybe it’s not such a stupid pipe dream after all.
I finally manage a small, shaky smile. ‘Thanks, Hoxton. I… I’ll think about it.’
And when he smiles back at me, I realise just how much I needed to hear that.
I clear my throat. ‘Back to you, though.’
He shoots me a quizzical look. ‘Me?’
‘If I’m going to open Heart, you need to think about your mulled wine bar. And I’ve got the perfect name.’ I shoot him a devilish look. ‘How about The Grinch’s Lair?’
Hoxton’s scowl returns, but there’s no fire behind it this time. ‘When are you going to drop this whole Grinch thing?’
I shrug. ‘When you stop being one and drop your one-sided grudge against Christmas.’
He leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. ‘I don’t have a “grudge”. It’s just another day.’
‘And you spend it acting like you’re auditioning for a role inA Christmas Carol– andnotas Tiny Tim.’
‘Tiny Tim?’
The look of confusion on his face is plain to see, and something dawns on me. ‘You’ve never watchedA Christmas Carol, have you?’
‘Why would I?’
‘Have you watchedanyChristmas film?’
‘I vaguely remembering watchingThe Nightmare Before Christmasas a child.’
I let out a sigh of relief. ‘Okay, good. Not a complete lost cause then.’
‘But I stopped at around the halfway mark.’
I flick through the film in my mind, and then shootHoxton a deadpan glare. ‘Right as Jack decides to abandon Halloween and go all in on Christmas?’
Hoxton’s grin is smug. ‘Exactly. I thought he was a very reasonable character up until then.’
‘Of course you did,’ I mutter. I have to remember: this is the man who willingly sits and reads books entitledThe Return of Krampusin his spare time. ‘I’m just saying, letting some Christmas joy into your life isn’t a bad thing.’
Hoxton heaves out a frustrated sigh. ‘Yes, you keep saying.’
‘Maybe you’ll finally take it to heart,’ I quip back, stubbornly.
‘I’m not a bad person because I don’t enjoy Christmas, Noelle.’
I pause. Is that what he thinks? That he’s a bad person because Christmas isn’t his favourite time of the year.
