Page 45 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

I resisted the urge to lick my lips this time. We stood there for a few beats, his hands on my arms, me looking up shyly at him. I noticed that his stubble already looked softer than it had just a couple of hours earlier, and I felt a sudden urge to confirm as much with my fingertips. But then I noticed the lift hadn’t even moved yet.

‘Do we, umm, need to push a button or something?’ I said, wishing my voice didn’t sound quite so high-pitched and breathless, as if I was a heaving-bosomed Bridgerton debutante.

Ethan inhaled deeply and blinked a couple of times, stepping to one side and pushing the uppermost button, marked 11.

As the lift ascended, he stepped back into my eyeline, leaning gently – but fully – against the corner I’d inadvertently pinned him to moments earlier, creating a little more distance, but still not much. I angled myself away from him and leaned against the adjacent handrail, our hips touching.

‘For a second I thought we might be stuck in here,’ I said quietly.

‘It wouldn’t have been the end of the world,’ he murmured.

My lips parted slightly in surprise, but before I could figure out how to best acknowledge what he’d just said – what he’d just implied – with the rest of my body, the doors chimed once more. We both jumped like some kind of rom-com cliché. But there was no need for bashfulness – the small reception desk in the lift lobby was unattended. Ethan entered some details on a touchscreen, swivelling the screen towards me for my signature. Then he beeped us through a final set of security doors, holding the door open for me. This time I didn’t trip over my own feet and press my body into his. Shame.

As we stepped into the communal workspace, I shifted my brain back into professional mode after the lift ‘moment’. Because that had definitely been a ‘moment’, right? Was that how Anneka had felt when she’d met Marcie for the first time? Was that what I was meant to have felt with Will for all these years? I mean, sure, the physical part of our relationship had been enjoyable, but it had never really been anything I’d yearned for – more like an optional activity than a vital need.

Focus, Flora.

I looked around – the vast space almost felt like a converted factory floor, with high ceilings, beautiful vintage furniture and bookshelves making the room feel almost library-like. Countless plants and rugs dotted around the polished concrete floor gave the massive room a homely feel.

‘Woah, this is impressive.’

‘Yep, we have free run of this whole floor, plus our own office. Come and check it out.’

He wandered over to the largest glass-walled office in the far corner, the interior of which was hidden by closed vertical blinds, and beeped the door open.

‘Oh my God, the view!’ I exclaimed, as I stepped inside. ‘You know, this is the highest building I’ve been in since I arrived in New York. And the first view of the city I’ve seen.’

‘You’re kidding?’

I shook my head, eyebrows raised. ‘I spent most of yesterday rummaging about in urban undergrowth. And the view from my Airbnb is non-existent.’

The ease at which the lie about where I was staying slipped out of my mouth took me by surprise. Perhaps Mum and Anneka were rubbing off on me.

‘Yeah, foraging isn’t your typical tourist activity. I’ll have to tell you where you can find some much better views. Do you have the Airbnb to yourself?’

I raised my eyebrows at the potential subtext to his question, quickly lowering them before he noticed.

Think, Flora – you wouldn’t be able to afford an entire Airbnb.

‘No, just a room in someone’s place.’

‘Nice.’

I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window for a while, taking in the layered vista of building after building after building. As I tried – and failed – to count all the yellow taxi cabs that moved in and out of my vision on the roads below us, I was reminded that vibrant cities had always been my happy place. Against all odds, I’d always felt deeply reassured by all the people and all the movement – and the sense of anonymity the diverse throngs afforded me. Bath was a city, of course, but it had an air of rural quaintness about it that meant the restless, almost-rebellious buzz of places like New York was largely absent.

I miss London.

The thought took me by surprise. I’d been so fixated on missing Will these last few months that I’d not even begun to process everything else I’d been forced to leave behind this year.

‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Ethan said, joining me at the window.

‘It’s incredible,’ I replied, still taking in the urban scene below.

‘And you’re sure you don’t mind hanging out here?’

‘Not at all! Like I said, I can work while you work – it’s perfect.’ To emphasise my point, I shimmied out of my coat, draped it over the back of a chair and started removing my stuff from my backpack.

‘How many of you work for the agency?’ I asked, my laptop booting up.