Page 91 of The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

‘Look. I’ll let you crack on just now. This probably isn’t the time and place,’ Max said. ‘When do you finish here?’

‘The market is meant to close by eight o’clock.’ Emma looked up at the old clock tower of the Town Hall. Ten to six.

‘Okay. Are you here on your own?’ Max asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, shall I come back and help you start to pack up about a quarter to eight or something?’

‘Ah …’ She wasn’t sure why she felt so awkward, or quite how everything had shifted in the past couple of weeks, but speaking with Luke’s mum had left her reeling. ‘Umm, okay then, thanks.’ She could hardly refuse his help.

‘I’ll see you later then.’ Max made himself scarce.

The lad at the stall was saying to his father, ‘I think Mum would like these ones.’ He was still holding the truffles.

‘Good decision, yes. And we’ll put them with some flowers.’

Aw, how sweet. ‘Birthday?’ Emma mused out loud.

‘Indeed,’ the man replied.

She put a gift bow on the rectangular box of truffles, and placed it in one of her bags with a business card. She watched the two men as they wandered off, the lad a lanky version of his father. Emma wondered for a second what it must feel like to have a family like that of your own, coming home to you every day – your lover, your child, your flesh and blood. She hoped the woman, whoever she was, appreciated her boys, didn’t take them for granted.

Sometimes they never came home …

Right, enough of this moroseness, maybe it was thoughts of Christmas stirring things up. You never really got over losing someone, you just learnt to live with it. She thought of Luke every single day even seven years on, and although it got easier, weirdly, every now and again, grief would come back in like a sledgehammer and hit when she least expected it.

By half-past seven the market was beginning to thin out, customers had dwindled, and some of the stalls were already starting to pack away. Emma had sold at least three-quarters of what she had brought, with some items having totally sold out. She had sold far more than she would have done in the shop that day (though she’d still have those takings too, thanks to Bev and Holly), and even with paying for the stall and the fuel to get here and back, she was definitely well in credit. It was worth the sore feet, aching back, and chilled-to-the-bone fingers.

‘All okay?’ Lisa from the Coffee Cabin leaned out and gave her another thumbs-up.

‘Yeah, great,’ Emma replied. ‘You do all right?’

‘Yep, sold right out of the mulled wine. Been a good day. Well, I think that’s me pretty much done here now. I’m going to get my vehicle over to hitch this up. Can you keep an eye on the cabin for me?’

‘Will do. No problems.’

‘Cheers, hen.’

And soon after that, Max reappeared.

‘You okay? How’s it gone today?’

‘It’s definitely been worth coming along. Though I am bloody freezing.’

He reached out for one of her hands. ‘Wow, you feel like ice. Let’s get this stuff all packed up and get you somewhere warm.’

40

They were sitting next to the roaring fire in a booth of Sam’s Bistro, located in an old stone townhouse not far from the market. Emma was finally starting to thaw out properly. It would have been lovely just to snuggle in a bit closer to Max, to feel his arm warm around her, but there was a polite inch or two between them, and something had shifted since their last weekend, two weeks ago.

Yes, she could have let herself get carried away with it all. He seemed a nice guy and the sex was seriously good. But there had to be more to it than sex. And was it worth all the dating, the getting-to-know-you stage, the shared lives, just for it all to go horribly wrong somewhere further down the line? Better to keep it as friends, and then no one needed to get hurt, she warned herself.

Max had bought her a hot, frothy cappuccino and he had a glass of Coca-Cola set before him on the round wood table.

‘So, are you feeling any better? A bit warmer now?’

‘Yes, thanks. And thanks for all your help.’