Page 76 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

‘Aww, seriously? That means a lot.’

I scrunched up my nose. ‘Why?’

‘Flo, it took you almost a year to tell us about Will, and the best part of three for you to introduce us to him. To be frank, it always felt like you were keeping him at arm’s length from us.’

‘That’s ridiculous. You know me and Will were taking things slowly to begin with, and then it just took a while to line things up for you to meet him. There was no grand scheme to keep him away from you.’

But had there been a subconscious fear that, if I’d introduced Will to my in-your-face family too soon, he might run a mile? Perhaps.

‘Whatever. Back to Ethan. Is he tall? Short? Bald? Ponytailed? Ripped? Tattooed?’

I sighed wistfully, recalling the angle of his jaw; the surprising softness of his thick hair; a prominent freckle on the underside of his left bicep.

‘None of the above.’

‘Fine, but he can’t be pig-ugly?’

‘Anneka! No. He’s not ugly. Like, at all. He caught my attention as soon as I saw him. Here, take a look.’

I showed him a photo that Jem – who was now following me on Instagram – had tagged me in overnight. It was a shot of the group in the Brooklyn speakeasy shortly before the three of us had left. Frank, Sonny and Suki were sitting in the booth, and me and Ethan were standing next to it, our coats on. Ethan was leaning against the table, and I was leaning against him, our arms around each other’s waists and my head resting against his shoulder, as if we’d known each other for years, not days. We were both grinning widely. Jem had captioned the image with two words:

Fate visited.

‘I can barely see him!’ Anneka said, pinching and zooming as much as Instagram would let her. ‘You both look very happy, though.’ She glanced up at me with a wink before handing my phone back. ‘Tell me what he looks like in real life.’

I gave her a summary of his appearance, lingering perhaps a little too long on how his hair flopped about in the same way as Aladdin’s did in the classic Disney movie.

‘Only you would compare your hot holiday fling to an animated character.’

My stomach flipped at the word ‘fling’, but she was right – that’s what this was, wasn’t it? A short-lived holiday romance that I’d look back on fondly in years to come, ever-grateful I’d had this experience to jolt me out of my heartbroken era and, hopefully, springboard me into a different one.

So why do I feel sick at the thought of never seeing him again?

‘Despite his job, he looks nothing like a cartoon. But I’ll tell you who does…’

I re-opened Instagram and zoomed in on Frank, before going on to describe all the other people in the photo, as well as the invisible photographer.

‘Wow, you don’t do things by half, do you, Flo?’ Anneka said, once I’d filled her in.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, frowning.

‘Don’t get defensive! I just mean that it seems you’ve really connected with this guy and his whole life in a super-short amount of time.’

‘It’s not my fault there was a snowstorm.’

‘C’mon, most of the stuff you told me about happened before the snowstorm. I’m not criticising you! I’m just stating facts.’

The world’s hottest waiter placed two comedically enormous platters of pancakes down on the table, followed by separate servings of bacon, sausage patties and what looked to be deconstructed hash browns. The endless parade of plates afforded me some time to ponder the ‘facts’ Anneka seemed so keen to interrogate me about. Annoyingly, there wasn’t much I could deny. In a single day, I’d somehow managed to encounter his workplace, his friends, his apartment and even his sodding parents. Plus, if I did end up going to the wedding – which I still needed to figure out with Mum and Anneka – I’d no doubt experience countless other elements of his life.

But did any of this really matter since it was all so one-sided? Sure, he knew way more about me and my life than I would normally share after only a couple of days – which felt right and weird all at once. But he still didn’t know that my entire family was here in New York, too, and that I was sharing a hotel room with them. Before last night, sharing this detail had seemed pointless. But the more we were getting to know each other, the more it felt like I should just be honest. My mind was made up: if we did end up seeing each other again, I’d tell him the truth. After all, it was kind of a funny story now I was far enough away from the trauma of being ripped from the safety of my sofa. Yet, despite the certainty of my silent decision, the nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach that the word ‘fling’ had triggered refused to vanish.

‘I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,’ I said, sitting back in my booth, my belly full of pancakes, meat and more maple syrup than I’d be permitted to take onto the flight home.

‘I’ll just have to say it louder in that case: you – need – a – New – York – makeover!’

The conversation with Anneka had moved on to the subject of Ethan’s brother’s upcoming wedding, and my dilemma about what to wear if I did end up going. Anneka had offered to lend me one of her outfits, but the thought of wearing one of her skin-tight bodycon dresses she’d packed ‘just in case’ – along with her knee-high boots, which would be more like thigh-high boots on my short legs – was even more horrifying than the prospect of going into a department store and buying something new.

‘I wouldn’t even know where to start with shopping for a dress in New York,’ I said.