Page 68 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

I felt the urge to tell him the full story. How I’d lost everything – and everyone – in London and moved to Bath after the so-called love of my life had called off our wedding just days beforehand. How my heart hadn’t just been broken, but had been lobbed against the wall and trodden into the carpet. How I’d picked it up piece by piece and shoved it back inside my chest, gradually endeavouring to stitch it back together like some kind of self-administered open-heart-surgery scene from a horror film. And how today was the first time it felt like it was finally functioning properly again. Instead, I looked around the room, admiring the artwork in the hope it would shift my thoughts to a different place.

‘Can you tell me about your favourite pieces?’ I asked, gesturing towards the walls.

His face turned into a giant grin. ‘Sure! Well, every single one has a story behind it. The cartoon over my desk, for example, was given to me by Frank the first time I went to one of his meet-ups – he always gifts newbies one of his originals, tells us to sell it for cash if we want, but nobody ever does.’

‘He’s so cool.’

‘Yeah, the best. And that poster over the record player was one I designed for this awesome band from Seattle when they played at the venue we went to tonight a couple of years back.’

‘Haven’t heard of them. Did you go to the show?’

‘Yeah, it was the only time I’ve been on a guestlist, and I hung out with the band at the merch booth, too. Sold a fair number of posters. Lemme put their record on; I think you’ll like it.’

Ethan opened the cupboard under the record player and thumbed through the stack of vinyl until he found the album he had in mind. I sat back down on the sofa while he placed the record on the turntable, and gently lowered the needle. Ethan sat on the chair opposite me while the music crackled into existence, the female vocalist’s gritty but soulful voice aligning lusciously with a combination of guitar, synth and percussion. It was the perfect soundtrack to a cosy Saturday night in an artist’s loft apartment in Brooklyn, New York, while snow fell outside. I rested my head back on the sofa and sighed, contentedly, debating whether or not to say the words that had formed in my head out loud. I decided to throw caution to the wind.

‘This is gonna sound super nerdy but… you’re like the coolest person I’ve ever met.’

‘That does sound super nerdy. But thank you. I think you’re, uh, pretty ace, too. But I guess we’d already established that.’

My skin fizzed with a sudden need to be touched by him. ‘I guess so.’

Before the likely direction of our conversation could take hold, the kettle began to whistle like we were in a 1950s sitcom.

‘Tea!’ Ethan exclaimed, jumping out of the chair and busying about in the kitchenette for a few minutes. I allowed my eyelids to close and took some deep breaths to try and slow my heart rate. Once his fancy-pants brewing process had run its course, he placed two glass teacups down on the coffee table and sat opposite me once more.

‘It’s very hot so be careful.’

‘I will.’

We sat quietly for a while, the music and chamomile-infused steam filling the air, neither of us feeling the need to say anything while we absorbed it all.

‘I really love this music,’ I said, as the second track finished.

Even though I was gradually feeling more relaxed, my heart was still beating faster than the pulse of the music.

‘Right? I think they’re touring Europe early next year – you should get yourself to one of their shows; they’re even more amazing in the flesh.’

‘I will.’ And I knew that I meant it – Bristol was a quick train ride away from my flat and the live music scene there was brilliant. I felt excited about the prospect of all the gigs I could go to next year – maybe I could even convince Laurie to come along for some more twin-free time.

‘Are you tired?’ Ethan asked, blowing on his tea gently and taking a sip.

By now, I was practically horizontal on the sofa. ‘Yeah, pretty shattered to be honest.’

‘You should rest. Would you mind if I spent a little time on these cartoons for the speech? I’ve got all these ideas swimming in my head and if I don’t get them out tonight, I’m worried the current will take them elsewhere.’

‘Sure, I know that exact feeling. I’m happy to just sit here and watch you work. Or is that going to be off-putting?’

Ethan looked at me intensely for half a second, his face turning perhaps a shade or two pinker. ‘No, that’s cool. If I get stuck with any of it, I’ll let you know.’

‘Mmm-hmmm,’ I mumbled, stretching out fully and allowing my eyes to close.

‘Haha, good night.’

‘It’s not even midnight yet; I’m nowhere near falling asleep.’

‘Sure.’

But the combination of my alcohol-steeped bloodstream, the ASMR-style tip-taps of Ethan’s mechanical keyboard and the soothing music meant that the allure of unconsciousness beckoned much sooner than I’d anticipated it would. I quickly fell asleep, warmly wrapped in both Ethan’s soft clothes, and the certainty that – at this singular moment in time – I was exactly where I was meant to be.