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4 November
“Coming!” Anthony yells as hears his doorbell ring. He wasn’t expecting Colin for another twenty minutes, but his brother has never been one to adhere to such mundane things as appointments. Annoyingly, he also doesn’t have any qualms about keeping his finger on the doorbell until Anthony opens it, so he sprints to the door disregarding the shirt he was about to put on for the sake of his poor ears.
He tears the door open, not even really looking at Colin, ready to berate him for being early whe he knows, he knows, Anthony only got off work ten minutes ago and likes some time to decompress when-
“Um, hi? I think you accepted a package for me?”
Anthony freezes in his tracks. In front of him is a rather beautiful woman. She must be a new neighbour because he’s certain he would have noticed her if they’d ever crossed paths before in his five years of living in the building. She looks a bit embarrassed and suddenly Anthony realises that he’s half-naked.
He grimaces. “I’m sorry, I was expecting someone else,” he says, gesturing at his state of undress awkwardly.
“Of course,” she says. “Don’t let me keep you. Package for Kathani Sharma?”
Anthony repeats the name to himself in his mind. It’s beautiful, entirely appropriate for the woman. He can’t remember seeing it on the letterboxes or doorbell signs, but he knows he’ll be keeping an eye out next time he leaves the house.
“Just a second,” he says, bending down to examine the pile of packages that have been collected at the door. “I work from home, you see, and I think the delivery people know by now that my door is a safe bet and now with Christmas coming it’s gotten a bit mad.”
He’s hoping she’ll engage with his smalltalk, maybe chat a bit with him before she leaves. He’s half-considering pretending he can’t see her package, perched to the side of his pile, but no luck.
“I think it’s that one,” she says, pointing to the brown bundle in question. Anthony nods and picks it up gingerly, trying to guess what it is just from the weight and shape in the few seconds before he hands it to her. A book maybe.
“Thank you,” she says, smiling politely. “I hope it’s not too much of a burden.”
It makes Anthony perk up.
“Not at all! Feel free to check the ‘leave at neighbour’ option on your deliveries, it’s really no trouble.”
“Great,” Kathani Sharma says and Anthony waits, hopes, she’s going to say something else. He’s disappointed when she simply tells him she’d better be going. It’s only a small consolation that it looks like she glances downward, at his naked chest, before she turns to leave.
When Colin does arrive, fifteen minutes late and pressing his infernal finger to the doorbell as expected, Anthony still isn’t dressed. Instead he’s sitting at his table, putting the name ‘Kathani Sharma’ in the search bar of any social media platform he can think of. Googling her name had given him no results.
This time, when he gets up to open the door, he starts berating Colin for his tardiness until his brother points out that Anthony obviously isn’t ready to leave either, grabs himself a beer from the fridge and plops himself down onto the sofa. When Anthony comes back into his sitting room after finally putting on that shirt and pullover he had so neatly placed on his bed, Colin is eyeing his search history curiously. When he sees Anthony he grins.
“Who’s Kathani Sharma?”
Anthony knows his brother well enough to be aware that saying ‘no one’ will only make it worse, so he grumbles something about ‘new neighbour’ and how he was just curious before trying to distract Colin with the promise of food. It works well enough, even though the smirk Colin shoots him is much more knowing than he’d like.
8 November
When Anthony accepts another package addressed to ‘Kathani Sharma’ he’s ecstatic at the prospect of seeing her again. He weighs the brown box carefully, shakes it very lightly and googles the company that’s listed as the sender, but to no avail. Kathani Sharma is a mystery to him, his online stalking had been fruitless and all he knows is that she lives on the eighth floor and her name is the only one listed on her postbox.
As the day passes, work being rather slow, the package starts torturing him, placed as it is next to the door in his line of sight. He’s so curious. Maybe, if he opened the package it would reveal to him the perfect conversation starter, something he could say that would root Kathani to his doorstep, make her eager to find more about him, give him the chance to make her laugh.
He’s sure she has an amazing laugh.
He picks it up about ten times more, even goes as far as weighing it on his kitchen scale, checks the tape to see if, theoretically, he could open it without leaving any marks, starts googling ‘fine for opening a stranger's mail’ before common sense gets the better of him.
Ten minutes later he’s holding on to the box again.
He phones Daphne.
“Hi Anthony,” she chirps. Autumn always puts her in a good mood.
“Hi Daff, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“How bad would it be if I were to accidentally open a neighbour’s package? Legally I mean?”
Her voice takes on a more serious tone, the tone he now associates with Daphne the solicitor.
“I’m sure if you told your neighbour it was an accident they would understand. Or are they threatening charges?”
“That's not - I haven't actually opened the package,” he tries to explain. He feels ridiculous and from the way Daphne pauses he suspects rightly so.
“But your neighbour thinks you have?” She sounds confused.
“No, but I want to.”
He can hear her exasperated sigh, can clearly picture the way she’s rolling her eyes at him.
“Anthony, don’t open your neighbour's mail. It’s creepy, a gross invasion of privacy, not to mention illegal.”
He doesn’t say anything to that. He knows that of course. It’s, if not what he wanted, what he needed to hear. He’s about to concede when-
“Why do you want to open your neighbour’s mail?”
“Just curious,” he mutters. Daphne doesn’t say anything.
“Thanks, Daff. I think I might be a bit stressed from work. Driving me a bit mad and all that.” He tries to sound light, like this is a funny little anecdote they will all laugh about come dinner. He hopes it is. Is this how people turn into stalkers?
“Okay, Ant, don’t work too hard, hey?” she replies. He can tell she’s a bit worried now.
“It’s fine, really. See you this weekend. Tell Simon hi from me.”
When he puts his phone away, he buries the package among the others. He won’t become a stalker. He’s a well-adjusted person who knows how to socialise. He has no trouble meeting women when he’s on a night out. He’s charming. He can charm Kathani Sharma.
Anthony makes sure to dress nicely in the evening. Not too nice, like he’s going out, but he chooses a well-fitting pair of trousers and a nice pullover rather than the joggers and barely ironed shirt he had done all his video calls in. He decides, after some deliberation, to add an apron and start cooking. He’s had more than one successful date where he’s cooked for the woman in question, and even if he doesn’t quite understand why it’s so impressive having had to learn to cook at eighteen to make sure his seven younger siblings wouldn’t live on take-out, it’s been a rather reliable strategy so far.
He starts chopping his vegetables, takes his time to get a pasta sauce simmering. He even lights a candle that Frannie had made him. It’s all rather inviting if he does say so himself. Even if Kathani doesn’t come to pick the package, he’ll have a much nicer meal than his usual vegetable stir fry in front of the telly.
He’s still immensely excited when the doorbell rings. The first time it’s another neighbour picking up a package, one of the older tenants who compliments him warmly when she realises she’s cooking, telling him he really is a charming you man and if he’d like to meet her granddaughter? For all that Anthony is a bit embarrassed by it, it is essentially the reaction he is hoping for from Kathani, so he’s not unhappy about it.
The second time the doorbell rings, he quickly checks his hair in the mirror, plasters on his most charming smile and opens the door. His breath catches when it is, in fact, Kathani wearing some sort of black workout leggings and a jumper. Her legs are quite the sight.
“Hi,” she says. “You accepted a package for me? Ka-”
“Kathani!” he smiles at her. “I remember. Just a sec.”
In the end he had placed her package not next to the door, as he usually does, but on one of the counters where he keeps the few houseplants that have survived his care. He figured it would force her to look into his flat, make her notice that he’s cooking, see the nice romantic candle. Maybe she’ll ask what he’s making and then he could offer her some food, he always makes too much anyway, a curse of growing up with so many siblings and-
“Here you go.” He gives her the brown box that had so tortured him this afternoon. She holds it at her side without much care. Nothing breakable then.
“Thank you,” she says. Anthony waits for her to ask what that smell is, to make a comment about his silly Christmas apron, something, anything, and she is looking over his shoulder at the candle, visible through the door that leads from his entry way to the sitting room. He smiles at her as she doesn’t immediately turn around, as she shoots him an indecipherable look.
“Have a nice night,” she tells him suddenly, a bit briskly and turns around to leave. For all the disappointment Anthony feels, he does get a rather nice view of her backside.
11 November
He doesn’t think much of it when the doorbell rings while he’s in a meeting. It’s barely three in the afternoon, so it’s most likely one of the older tenants or maybe Ewan on the second floor who seems to be on parental leave, judging from the baby that’s permanently strapped to him. When he faintly hears Daphne go to open the door he hopes it's him. Daphne loves babies.
He hears her laugh delightedly so he assumes it must be.
It’s only after the meeting when he’s making them a coffee that he remembers to ask who was at the door.
“Just one of your neighbours. Really, you should consider opening a shop, you have so many packages here,” she tells him, eyeing the mountain next to the door.
“It’s just the start of Christmas gift shopping, it’s usually not that bad.”
“Still, it took me a few minutes to even find her package. In the end it was all the way over at the counter there, your neighbour had to help me look.” Daphne sounds amused, but Anthony freezes.
“Kathani was here?” he asks.
“Oh yeah, that was her name. She was lovely, kept apologising for the inconvenience as if I was doing her some great favour. Super sweet.”
It’s obvious Daphne doesn’t think much of it, sighs in relief when she takes the first sip of her coffee, before sitting back down to work through some tomb of case law, but Anthony’s mind is racing. It makes no sense, Kathani always comes in the evening. And she certainly isn’t sweet and apologetic, just staunchly polite.
Then he realises. He won’t see her today. He’s going to have to wait for her next order.
Anthony curses the stupid video call.
14 November
It’s the same interaction as always, Kathani ringing his doorbell, him urgently fixing his hair in the mirror before he opens it, smiling and her asking for the package he’d accepted while she was at work. He examines her carefully, trying to understand where Daphne would have gotten the ‘super sweet’ from, but she barely smiles at him, is just unflappable as usual.
He tries, asks her if she’s new to the building and she tells him she’d moved in a few months ago without offering any further information, nor questions in return.
He asks if she likes the neighbourhood and she answers with the affirmative, but makes no mention of any places she likes to frequent.
He opens his mouth in some last ditch attempt, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, smiling and trying to subtly flex his biceps, but this time it’s her that speaks.
“I met your girlfriend the other day, she seems nice.”
Anthony looks at her confused.
“Girlfriend?” he echoes dumbly.
For the first time Kathani looks a bit flustered. “Oh, well there was a woman who opened the door the other day when I came by. I just assumed.”
“Oh, Daphne!” he exclaims in relief. “She’s my sister.” Kathani seems very embarrassed.
“There’s a lot of them,” he tries to reassure her.
“A lot of sisters?” she asks warily, as if she’s sure she’s misunderstood.
“A lot of siblings in general. So if there’s an increasingly younger version of me opening the door, don’t worry, it’s just my brothers, not some sort of Benjamin Button situation.”
Kathani laughs. It’s just a small laugh, almost a snort, but Anthony is delighted. Her nose scrunches up in the most adorable way. He simply must hear it again.
But before he can try and build on that joke, she says, “Good to know. Thanks for the package,” and turns around to leave.
16 November
“Guess what?” Colin booms as he walks through the door. Anthony couldn’t stand the incessant ringing anymore and had given him a set of keys despite his better judgement.
“What?” he asks, without much enthusiasm. Colin always has many stories to tell, but some of them aren't as interesting as he seems to think they are.
“I ran into your neighbour downstairs.”
Anthony looks at him, unimpressed. “That happens in a house with twenty flats sometimes.”
Colin grins at him.
“Oh, but not just any neighbour,” he tells Anthony gleefully. “I ran into a Miss Kate Sharma.”
“Kate?” Anthony is confused. Does Kathani have a daughter or sister or some other relative he didn’t know about? He feels stupid suddenly. Maybe Kate is Kathani’s wife and all this time he had been trying to impress a happily married woman.
“That’s how she introduced herself,” Colin says, looking at him like he’s an idiot. “Kathani Sharma, the one you were googling? She told me she goes by Kate.”
Anthony realises she’s never really introduced herself to him. And neither, for that matter, has he to her. She might not even know his first name. He resolves to remedy that next time he sees her, feeling a bit stupid.
“She’s so fun,” Colin continues. “We had a really good chat actually, she told me the whole mad story about her job and then it turned out we have been to some of the same events, isn’t that crazy?”
Colin is clearly under the impression that Anthony knows Kathani, Kate, better than he does. And why wouldn’t he be, if she’d so readily shared so much of her life with him after running into him in the stairwell? It’s like he’s telling him about a whole different person. He wonders why Kathani, why Kate seems to be so delightful to everyone but him.
“Anyway, I invited her to your Christmas party! I hope you don’t mind, I figured you probably had already invited her anyway.”
That’s enough to tear Anthony from his maudlin thoughts.
“What did she say?” he asks, suddenly feeling much more favourable about Colin’s “fun” interaction with Kathani.
“She said she’d have to check her calendar but she’d try to make it.” Colin eyes the grin on Anthony’s face suspiciously.
“What is up with you today? You seem a bit out of it?”
Anthony waves him off, giving him the same excuse of work that he had given Daphne a week ago. Colin doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but then Anthony mentions he has some leftover lasagne and sometimes he thinks his brother might be a cartoon cat reincarnated because the way he cheers at that is not entirely normal.
18 November
There’s another package addressed to Kathani Sharma perched safely on his cupboard and he knows it’s silly, but he’s reluctant to leave the flat just yet, tries to convince Eloise that they might as well have a beer here rather than heading out into the cold. She’s unconvinced, there’s Christmas karaoke at her favourite pub and she may be an awful singer but she is going to perform Wham! if the crowd likes it or not.
They’re saved from a proper argument by the doorbell ringing. Anthony doesn’t expect Eloise to follow him as he opens the door, but there isn’t much he can do about it and maybe Kathani will continue her pattern of being nice to his siblings and they’ll have a proper conversation for once.
Standing in the hallway, however, is not Kathani but a much shorter woman. She doesn’t look dissimilar to her, has the same dark eyes and sharp jawline, but unlike Kathani, she smiles brightly when their eyes meet.
“Hi!” she chirps. “I’m here to pick up a package for Kate Sharma?”
“You’re not Kathani,” Anthony says, before he can think better of it. The woman looks taken aback and Eloise unsubtly elbows him in the side.
“Um, no? I’m her sister. Edwina.” She pauses for a moment, seeming unsure what to say before smiling again, a bit awkwardly now. “I promise I’m not trying to steal Kate’s mail. I can show you my drivers licence if you’d like? We have the same last name.”
“Don’t be silly,” Eloise cuts in. “Anthony just has a stick up his arse. Sharma was it?”
Anthony glares at her for a moment as she goes to rummage through the pile of packages next to the door, before remembering himself.
“Sorry,” he says, shooting Edwina, what he hopes is, a self-deprecating smile. “I was just surprised. I get a lot of the building’s packages dropped off here and after a while you just start associating certain faces with them.”
Edwina giggles, looking relieved. “No worries. I’m sure Kate will be happy to hear how fiercely you’re protecting her mail.”
Selfishly, he hopes Edwina will tell her that. Anything to get into Kathani’s good graces.
“Ant, I can’t find it,” Eloise growls from her hunched over position next to the door. He startles.
“Oh just a sec, sometimes I keep them over here.” He rushes to the cupboard and grabs the package without even bothering to check the label.
“Here you go,” he says as he hands Edwina, who's still smiling, the package.
Eloise rolls her eyes as she dusts herself off exaggeratedly, but turns to Edwina. “I love your cardigan by the way.”
Edwina’s smile, impossibly, turns even brighter. “Thanks! I made it myself actually.”
“What? That’s amazing! It’s crocheted right?”
Anthony watches helplessly as another of his siblings seems to effortlessly get along with a Sharma sister, Edwina delighted at the fact that Eloise recognised it and Eloise asking if she has a pattern for it. Before he knows it, they’re exchanging numbers so Edwina can send her a picture of the notes she took and the link to the YouTube video tutorial she’d followed.
When she’s left, he stares at Eloise. He’s a little bit upset with her, even though he knows it’s not her fault Kate’s so hard to charm.
“What?”
He shakes his head in exasperation.
“Come on, let’s head out. I could use a drink.”
23 November
It’s the first time the parcel is not some nondescript brown thing, but has a rather vibrant logo on it. Not just that, it’s a logo Anthony recognises from somewhere, even if he can’t quite place it immediately. Thankfully, a quick google tells him it’s the arts supply company that Benedict is loyal patron of and Anthony feels almost giddy at having gained such insight into Kathani’s life, to know that she, too, must at least dabble in arts for her to order from there. It’s silly, but he decides to only go to the gym once she’s passed by, so he’s in his exercise clothes, mindlessly watching tv when the doorbell finally rings.
He’s relieved when this time it is Kathani, dressed in a beautiful winter coat, when he opens the door. She must just have just gotten in.
“Hi Kathani,” he smiles at her and he’s too excited to start his conversation to wait for her to ask. “Let me grab your package.”
“Do you paint?” he asks as he hands it to her, trying to keep his voice conversational and not like he’s dying to hear the answer. She looks surprised.
“I do, actually. How’d you know?”
He gestures to the bright logo. “One of my brothers buys from them a lot. He’s an artist.”
Kathani nods in understanding.
“Of course. One of the Benjamin Buttons.”
Anthony feels delighted at the little joke, the callback to their last conversation.
“Well, he’s only a year younger than me, so chances are you might not have even noticed if he opened the door instead of me.”
“I think I would have,” she replies. Anthony can’t even attempt to suppress the grin that elicits from him. Kathani looks a bit embarrassed.
“I’d better get going, I haven’t had dinner yet,” she mumbles. “Thanks for the package.”
Anthony curses himself for not having cooked tonight instead.
29 November
Anthony barely makes it to the door when the bell rings. He grabs the mask he had hung up with his keyes and opens it, hoping for once that it’s not-
“Hi Kathani,” he croaks when she doesn’t say anything.
“Hi, sorry to bother you,” she says and it sounds like she truly means it. She waves the delivery notice helplessly. “You accepted another package for me?”
“Yeah, just a sec.” He shuffles over to the cupboard slowly, before making his way back to hand it to her. It’s only a few metres but it takes all his effort.
“Thank you.” She looks at him, her brow scrunched. “Are you alright?”
“I’m ill,” he croaks back. “Flu, I think.”
“I’m sorry,” she says again. She hesitates, looking him over. He must look a right side, clad in his pyjamas, a ratty jumper and a scarf. He knows his hair is matted and his nose red from all the blowing it. He really wished she didn’t have to see him like that.
“Do you need anything? I can run to the pharmacy, I don’t mind.”
Anthony is touched by the offer.
“That’s really kind, thank you. It’s okay though, I have loads of medicine stocked.”
He thinks it’s going to be the end of it, but she still doesn’t move even though he knows for a fact that this particular package is quite heavy.
“Do you have enough to eat?
“I was just going to order in. It’s fine, honestly.” When she suddenly looks a bit awkward again he quickly adds, “I don’t want to put you out. I really appreciate it though, Kathani.”
“Kate.”
“Excuse me?”
“Everyone calls me Kate.”
He smiles even though she won’t be able to see it under his mask.
“I’m Anthony,” he rasps and if it isn’t the smooth introduction he was imagining, it’s made up for by the gentle smile Kate shoots him.
“Feel better soon Anthony. Thanks for the package.”
He still feels awful, but a bit less so now than he had five minutes ago.
29 November
Anthony seriously considers not opening the door the next time the bell rings, he’s all bundled up in bed, but then he remembers Ryan often orders diapers and other baby’s supplies and those could be urgent so he makes himself get up after all, grabbing his mask. He doesn’t want to infect a poor toddler with whatever he’s caught.
He’s surprised when it’s Kathani again. She’s biting her lip and holding something in her hands and it smells absolutely delicious. Anthony has had barely any appetite for the last days but this makes his mouth water.
“Hi Kath-, Kate.” He wants to say more, but talking is actually a bit painful, his throat is so sore.
“Hi Anthony. Um, I hope I’m not overstepping but I had to cook for myself anyway, so I made some soup? If you’d like some. It’s my father’s recipe and I swear it’s magical, at least for me, it’s always helped loads, so…” she trails off, looking uncertain.
Anthony stares at her. It’s so unexpectedly kind he doesn’t know what to say. His throat has been closed up all day, but he swears he can feel an extra lump in it right now.
“Thank you,” he croaks. “It smells delicious. You really shouldn’t have.”
Embarrassingly he’s overtaken by a coughing fit, he turns away from her embarrassed, but when he faces her again she looks only sympathetic.
“It’s my pleasure. I owe you for treating your flat like my personal post office,” Kate jokes. She thrusts the bowl into his hands.
“It’s a tiny bit spicy because that helps clear out your sinuses, but I hope it’s okay. It has lots of ginger too, and vegetables and chicken.”
“Thank you,” he repeats. She shuffles her feet a bit awkwardly.
“Feel better soon, hey? I’ll make sure to let the delivery guy know to not ring your door for my stuff.”
It’s thoughtful and a testament to how ill he feels that he doesn’t protest, doesn’t tell her she should anyway, just so that he might see her. She gives him a small wave before returning to her apartment.
The soup tastes just as good as it smells.
2 December
It feels a bit like the world has gone topsy-turvy when Anthony presses down on the doorbell labelled ‘Sharma’. He’s more nervous than he should be, considering he very much has a reason for bothering her and the fact that she’s been at his door what feels like a dozen times now.
When Kate opens the door, she looks surprised.
“Anthony! Hi! You feeling better?”
He smiles at her.
“Much, thank you. You were right, your soup was magical, thank you so much for it.”
She looks pleased. It’s all the encouragement he needs.
“I brought you your bowl.” He holds up the bowl he’s clasped in one hand. “And some biscuits and wine as a thank you.” He raises the other hand with the wine bottle he has tied the little plastic bag of biscuits to. “I made those with my younger siblings so I can’t vouch for their quality though.”
“You shouldn’t have, it was no bother,” Kate tells him, but she looks touched. She takes the offerings, looking at the brightly biscuits with interest. “It’s really too much. These are so cute. Did your siblings decorate them? How old are they?”
Anthony blushes.
“Those are the ones I decorated,” he admits. “I’m no artist, unfortunately.”
Kate looks mortified.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean -, they’re really nice, honestly. I think the bag distorts them a bit.”
Anthony waves her off. “Don’t worry, my siblings have said it all already. They were protective of the ones they decorated or I would have brought you the prettier ones.”
Kate smiles warmly. Anthony expects her to make her excuses now, the way she’s always done, but she keeps looking at him. He tries to think of something clever to say, anything to make her want to keep talking to him, but he’s lost in her eyes.
“How fancy is the wine?” she asks suddenly.
“Not that fancy.” It’s a lie. It’s part of his family’s yearly order from his mother’s favourite Italian vineyard but saying that feels over the top.
Kate hesitates.
“Would you want to share a glass? Not a glass I mean, but I could actually really do with a nice glass of wine right now, but it seems a shame to open the bottle just for myself. Unless you’re still on antibiotics? Or if you have other plans, I understand, don’t feel obligated because of a bowl of soup, please.”
She’s rambling. It might be words than all the ones she’s ever spoken to Anthony before combined. It’s hopelessly endearing. He tries to simply smile at her, but what he wants to do is whoop.
“I’d love to, thank you.”
When she lets him past her front door, he feels like he’s entering hallowed halls. He greedily studies every little detail of the flat, trying to learn about Kate what he can. It’s smaller than his and much more colourful, stuffed with little decorative touches and it feels incredibly homey. He follows her into the kitchen where she grabs two mismatched wine glasses.
“I’m sorry, everything’s still a bit improvised and I swear, wine glasses are always the first thing to break,” she tells him, sounding a bit bashful. He waves her off, tells her her place is lovely and means it, still not quite believing his luck. She leads him to the couch that’s to the side of the kitchen nook, explaining she doesn’t really have a proper dining table yet, apologising again, as if sitting next to her on that couch isn’t the greatest offer she could have made him.
They clink their glasses and it’s a bit awkward at first, they don’t know each other well enough to seamlessly sink into conversation, but then Anthony asks what kind of events she met Colin at and she rolls her eyes and tells him, in a self-deprecating manner, that she does social media events and Colin had been one of the influencers invited to her events more than once.
“Social media events?” he echoes. “How did you get into that?” He tries to convey that he’s genuinely interested. It’s one of those jobs he has no idea what they even entail, even if Colin is a travel blogger.
“Edwina, my sister, got a little following when she started documenting her life at Oxford. You know, taking nice pictures of the libraries there and talking about her study techniques, and when companies started reaching out to her she asked me for help and it all spiralled from there. Apparently I have a good eye for aesthetics.” She does finger quotes for the last part. “It’s one of the reasons I have so many packages, I get stuff sent to me sometimes from companies. It’s all a bit mad.”
“And here I thought you were getting Christmas gifts,” Anthony teases.
“Oh, no, those I make myself. I’m so surrounded by advertising and products being shoved at everyone, I’ve gotten a bit cynical.”
He chuckles. “You’re better than me then.”
She seems to think he’s insulted. “But we’re a small family,” she rushes to add. “I can’t imagine getting gifts for five siblings or however many there are. I only have Edwina and Mary.”
“I have seven.”
“Seven gift recipients?” She sounds shocked.
“Seven siblings,” he tells her.
“You’re joking!”
Anthony is used to these kinds of reactions, but somehow Kate’s, her big eyes and the way she immediately takes a big sip of wine, is the most charming. He goes into his usual quick overview of his siblings, the three brothers and four sisters and Kate listens attentively, looking amazed.
“So you have two sisters?” he tries to steer the topic of conversation back to her. He’s eager to find out as much about her as he can, now that she seems willing to share.
“One,” she corrects him. “Mary is my step mother.”
Anthony doesn’t need to ask anything more, doesn’t need to know why she only has two family members she needs to make gifts for. He remembers how she’d mentioned her father when she brought him soup and it suddenly feels all the more meaningful. He wants to grab her hand but doesn’t dare to. He hopes his face says enough.
“Are you going to spend the holidays together then? All the siblings?”
He nods. “Us and my mother.” It feels good, being able to tell her. He knows she understands from the sad smile she shoots him as she nods.
“It must be mayhem.”
He grins and tells her stories of the chaos that Hyacinth caused last year when she decided to hide all of Greg’s presents, of the year they decided they’d try real candles on the Christmas tree and nearly burned the house down ,and the year Colin surprised them all when they thought he’d be in Australia. Kate seems delighted, laughs heartily and Anthony normally doesn’t talk about his family that much but whenever he tries to change the topic she has another question.
They’ve started leaning into each other’s spaces on the couch, Kate has poured them each another glass of wine, and there’s fairy lights glowing, a few colourful candles placed in odd corners. The glittering baubles she put up should seem misplaced, draped over a teapot and the knife rack, but fit perfectly. She really does have an eye. It’s romantic, but not in the cliché way that Anthony has to resort to whenever he tries to create atmosphere for a date, but effortless.
It’s perfect.
He’s waiting for the moment where he can reach across, cradle her jaw and lean in to kiss her, when his phone lights up. He forgot to place it face down, as is his habit when he has company, after showing her some pictures of Hyacinth and Greg baking. It’s just a notification about a meeting he has tomorrow and he goes to lock the phone again.
“Is this another sibling?” Kate asks, nodding at his lock screen picture. It’s a silly one, of Benedict, Henry, and Sophie on a night out, pulling faces. His siblings have made game of stealing his phone and changing his background photo to stupid pictures of them. He puts on a show of complaining about it, but secretly he loves it.
“Oh yeah, that’s Benedict and his boyfriend,” he tells her. “The one with all the artistic talent.”
Kate chuckles.
“And the woman?”
Anthony hesitates. It’s always a bit of a minefield explaining Benedict and Henry’s relationship with Sophie. They’re not a throuple exactly, Sophie is too independent for that, but she’s in their lives always, if not as a partner then as a friend. Currently, as far as Anthony is aware, they’re all romantically entangled, but it’s subject to change. When he tries to explain this to strangers they either become judgemental, questioning the logistics of it all, or overly interested, sometimes accepting in what feels like a performative way. Either way, it always, always derails the conversation and, for all that they’ve spent a good part of the evening talking about his family, he doesn’t want to end up discussing Benedict’s love life with Kate for the next half hour.
“She’s the girlfriend.” He hopes his dismissive tone curtails any further questioning. Kate looks surprised, as is to be expected, but collects herself quickly.
“She’s beautiful. I see her smoking on your balcony sometimes, I think.”
Anthony snorts, glad that Kate seems willing to accept his answer.
“Horrible habit. We’re trying to break her out of it, but she works in the service industry to fund her projects and says it’s the only way she ever gets to have a break.”
Kate grimaces. “Tell me about it. Whenever I’m setting up events it’s perfectly accepted for people to step outside for their smoke break, but when you say you’re taking a quick break just to breathe you get weird looks.” She eyes her wine glass pensively. It’s still half full.
“Speaking of which, I should probably get to bed. I have a full day tomorrow.”
Anthony is taken aback. He understands he’s effectively being kicked out, and of course he’ll leave immediately, but it’s unexpected. He’d thought, from the way Kate had smiled, from the soft touches to his arm, the way she threw her hair back, that they were on the same page, that this was maybe, unspokenly, a date.
He tries not to let his disappointment show on his face, as he gets up, offers to wash up the wine glasses. She waves him off and, when he stands at the door, he thinks she looks almost annoyed at him as she shoots him one last lingering glance before closing the door in his face.
7 December
It takes unusually long for another package addressed to Kathani Sharma to land on his doorstep. When it finally does happen, Anthony is excited. He hasn't seen her since that night with the wine, the night they talked about their families, the night he felt a connection to her that went far beyond physical attraction.
He takes care to look put together, but not enough so that she might assume he's heading out. After some deliberation he decides to also don his apron and cook a meal. He forgoes the candle this time, but makes sure to cook enough for two just in case.
He feels almost giddy when the doorbell rings. He can't keep the smile off his face when he opens the door to find Kate, looking beautiful as ever, standing there.
“Hi Kate, how's it going?” He feels himself deflate slightly when she doesn't return his smile.
“Sorry to bother you, but you got one of my packages?”
He stares at her. Her tone is distant, like it had been those first few times, and for a moment he wonders if the soup, the wine, all of it, had been a dream.
“You know it's no bother, Kate,” he says. He hesitates a moment before asking.
“Are you okay?”
She gives him a polite smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
“I don't want to be rude, but could I have my package, please?”
“Sure,” Anthony tells her. He goes to grab it, feeling like the rug has been pulled out from under him. Before he places it into her outstretched hands, he makes one last desperate attempt.
“Are you stressed from work? Because I'm cooking right now and there's more than enough for two. I could bring you some?”
For a moment, he thinks he has her. She lets her eyes roam over him, pausing at the silly Christmas apron, the dish towel slung over his shoulder. But when she finally meets his eyes, she looks sad.
“Thanks, but it's okay.” She grabs the package from his hands. “Have a nice night, Anthony.”
Somehow, it feels like a goodbye.
11 December
There's no more packages. That's not true, there are hundreds, the whole building apparently having properly started their Christmas shopping. But there's no package addressed to Kathani Sharma among them, no matter how many times Anthony checks.
He supposes it could be coincidence, but after the steady stream of packages over the last month it feels deliberate, like an admonishment. Anthony agonises over what he could have done wrong, but the only thing he can come up with is that he'd misread the mood somehow and, when Kate realised where his head was, felt the need to put some distance between them.
It's why he doesn't dare seek her out, even though it's torture. It’d be so easy to see her, he'd just have to knock on her door, but he won't. He's not going to impose.
12 December
It's a bit ridiculous that this is the first time they've run into each other in the stairwell, but Anthony feels an overwhelming sense of relief when he sees her. He's with Benedict and Sophie, them positively sprinting up the stairs to escape the cold and get into Anthony's flat, when there's Kate above them, walking down at a much more leisurely pace.
She freezes for a second when she spots them. Ben and Sophie don't seem to notice, just greet her politely as they rush past her.
Anthony, however, stops in his tracks.
“Hi Kate,” he says, his voice soft from the nerves he feels.
She stares at him for a moment and then walks past him without a word.
15 December
He knows it's most likely futile, but he slips and invite to his holiday party, addressed to her and Edwina, into Kate's postbox all the same.
21 December
It's as raucous an affair as usual. Anthony is glad he's in most neighbours’ good graces thanks to his willingness to accept their parcels, because otherwise he'd surely have been hit by some noise complaints by now. Eloise, the menace, has not only taken over his Spotify, but, aided by Colin, forced some felted deer antlers onto his head, ruining his perfectly styled hair. There's mulled wine, and normal wine, and beer and some wintery cocktails that Colin is offering to anyone who will so much as glance at him, without divulging what’s in it.
It's quite fun, really. Except for the fact how Anthony's heart jumps whenever his doorbell rings. He doesn't know half the people who enter, his siblings having obviously extended the invitation liberally, but he can't help but feel disappointed every time the door opens to reveal another grinning face, another arm thrusting wine at him.
At some point he can no longer stand it, resolves to keep away from the door, hosting duties be damned. He's quickly roped into conversation by Cressida Cowper, how she manages to wrangle an invite every single year is beyond him, and suddenly he's grateful for the mystery drink Colin places in his hand in passing.
It helps, he's starting to have fun, talking to Simon and Will and even plays a cheeky drinking game with them and some old school mates. He’s talking to Alice about the bar she's planning to open, laughing as she tells him about her charity shop hunting adventures when he spots her.
Kate's here. Kate's at his party and looking right at him. He can barely believe his luck. Surely this must mean something.
But when he waves at her, she turns and follows Edwina to the kitchen.
He resists the urge to follow for a few minutes, but then ends up making his excuses with Alice. Surely he cannot be begrudged for seeking her out now that she's at his party? It's only polite to greet her, he's the host after all.
When he enters the kitchen he finds her deep in conversation with Colin, sipping one of his concoctions. Colin spots him first.
“Anthony! Our gracious host,” he waves him over. Kate doesn't say anything. Colin, unperturbed, holds his glass out to him to cheer.
“Good party, Ant.”
“Thanks,” he mutters. He turns to face Kate. “Hi Kate. Thanks for coming.”
She doesn't return his smile. “Edwina made me.”
The hurt he feels must show on his face, because hers softens slightly.
“It was nice of you to invite her. She is new to the city and was excited to meet people.”
Anthony smiles at her in relief. He still doesn’t understand what went wrong that night, but at least she seems to be willing to be civil to him tonight. It’s maybe a bit sad that that feels like a win to him, but he’ll take it.
Colin shoots him a surprised look, but when he turns back to Kate he’s all charming smiles again.
“And where is the lovely Edwina? I haven’t seen her since that toy store event back in May. You didn’t organise that one, did you?”
Kate laughs. “No, that was done by real professionals.”
“Professionals with a much worse eye than you, I think,” Colin tells her. Anthony resents his brother a little for how easily Kate smiles at his flattery.
“Is Colin as much of a diva at work as he is at home?” he asks. It’s a cheap attempt at joining the conversation, but he’ll take anything right now.
Kate looks at him in surprise. “No, he’s absolutely lovely. You wouldn’t believe the types we get - some can’t even manage a ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and Colin’s the opposite.”
“You flatter me, Kate,” he tells her, but he shoots Anthony a smug look.
“Maybe you can try those ‘please’ and ‘thank yous’ with me sometimes,” Anthony grumbles.
“Ah, but what would you complain about then, old man.”
“Are you admitting to being the most irritable sibling?”
“To you maybe, but that’s just your bad taste.”
Kate watches them with a small smile.
“Is Anthony the most irritable sibling then?” she asks, and Anthony can’t even be mad at the light teasing, he’s so glad to be talking to her again.
“Absolutely, but you don’t have to take my word for it,” Colin grins, dangerously. “Have you met the other Bridgertons yet? We can ask them.”
Kate laughs. “I’ve met one of them. Daphne, right?” Anthony nods in confirmation.
“Well then there’s five more Bridgertons to go!”
It’s really incredible how easy it is for Colin to make it sound like introducing Kate to their siblings is the most wonderful thing he can imagine. Anthony envies his easy sociability.
“Ask Frannie first,” he tells them, only half-joking. She’s the one sibling he can count on to sing his praises to Kate. And he’d really like his praises to be sung to her.
“Frannie has been biassed ever since you got her that piano.” Colin turns to Kate, looking serious. “You cannot trust her. I think we’d better talk to Benedict and Eloise instead.” He offers her his arm, and she takes it indulgently.” Colin gives him a jaunty wave as they stroll out of the kitchen.
Anthony gets swept up in hosting duties, having to find new glasses, and trying (and failing) to keep Eloise from singing karaoke. He tries to keep his eyes on Kate, but everytime he spots her she seems to be fine, joking with a new Bridgerton sibling. He figures it can’t be going too bad if she’s still at the party.
He has the chance to talk to Edwina a little. She’s much more agreeable than her older sister, and they talk about university, her Master’s degree studies. It’s the only time he catches Kate looking at him.
He doesn’t expect Kate to seek him out. He’d resigned himself to her avoidance of him when they met in the stairway, so when she’s suddenly in front of him, not just looking at him but smiling, he cannot believe his luck.
She is holding two drinks and offers him one tentatively.
“Package for Anthony Bridgerton?”
It’s a stupid joke, but it’s coming from her like it’s a peace offering and he’s sure he must be grinning like a fool when he accepts it.
It’s like they’re back at her flat again, drinking and talking, except this time he’s sure she’s leaning into his space, tugging at his stupid reindeer antlers teasingly, her hand brushing his arm when she gestures. It’s intoxicating. She can’t stay by his side all night, he has to host after all, but she also doesn’t leave, even as the partygoers start to trickle out, even as Edwina takes her leave, and suddenly it’s just them and she points at a decorative branch of pine tree that’s decidedly not mistletoe above them and says, “mistletoe,” and they’re kissing, and she’s in his bed, and she tastes like cranberry and her touch is like the feeling of a fireplace after a day outside in the snow.
22 December
When he wakes up the next morning, it’s no longer morning, it’s lunch time, and she’s gone.
Anthony tries not to obsess over it as he starts clearing up the party’s mess. He’s already on holiday, but it’s not unlikely it’s a work day for her. Kate might have had appointments to get to and, he realises suddenly, she doesn’t even have his phone number. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to feel like rejection.
He still keeps an eye out for a note, anything that might tell him where Kate stands now. She wasn’t too drunk last night, at least he thinks so, wasn’t exactly sober himself, and the worry starts driving him mad. He gets some texts from Colin, who had noticed that Kate had still been there when he left, taking full credit for it all, and Anthony barely resists the urge to call him and ask for Kate’s email or insta or anything he might have access to via his work.
Of course, he could just go upstairs, knock on her door, but he doesn’t dare to. If she does regret this it would feel too much like an invasion of space. He doesn’t want Kate to feel uncomfortable in her flat.
The cleaning takes much longer than he anticipated, it always does, and as every year he promises himself he won’t host next year. He has so many siblings, one of them should be able to step up and take over, so that he can have a relaxing night for once. Anthony tries to raise his mood by putting on silly Christmas music, but jingling bells do not go well with the light hangover he feels despite the electrolytes and painkillers and water he has been consuming throughout the afternoon.
When the flat is finally presentable again, he doesn’t feel relief, like usual. He is no longer busy, but he desperately wants to distract himself, as to not dwell on the feeling of Kate’s skin, the sounds she made when he first let his hands wander under her sweater, the way she looked at him when they were both naked, illuminated by fairy lights. He half considers the gym, but he doesn’t feel recovered enough for it. Anthony also foolishly feels reluctant to leave, lest Kate comes around after all.
He resorts to cooking a meal from all the food he still has in his pantry that most likely won’t survive the week at home in Kent. It’s relaxing, like trying to solve a puzzle, digging through his fridge, the half opened bags of lentils and frozen peas. He doesn’t not think of Kate, but his hands are busy with cutting, his senses preoccupied with smells and tastes and colours and the sound of a stew bubbling.
He almost feels at ease, his stew simmering, when the doorbell finally rings. Anthony tries not to get his hopes up as he goes to answer it. Most of the parcels he’s accepted over the last weeks have been picked up by now, people getting their gifts in order, but there is still one or two castaways that Anthony hopes will be saved before he leaves for his Christmas holidays.
He takes a deep breath before turning the door knob.
Kate stands in front of him, smiling shyly.
Anthony immediately smiles back and it seems to be all the encouragement she needs, before she holds out a small brown parcel he hadn’t even noticed before.
“I have a parcel for Anthony Bridgerton,” she repeats the joke from last night. Her words are rushed, a bit breathy, and he’s pleased to realise that she’s nervous.
“Thank you,” he says softly. “Do you want to come in?”
When she nods, he wants to fistbump the air.
“It’s still a bit messy,” he tells her apologetically. “And then I started cooking, which doesn’t help.
She eyes his Christmas apron appreciatively as she sits down. “Smells delicious.”
“Do you want anything? Water? Wine?”
“Definitely not wine,” she laughs. “I don’t know what Colin put in his Christmas drinks but I’m never drinking it again.”
Anthony is so relieved at her casual words, how she makes no allusion of having been too drunk or regretting the drinking beyond the usual hangover, that he barks out a laugh.
“I’m not sure I want to know, but same.”
She smiles at him fondly, before thrusting the parcel into his hands.
“Happy Christmas, Anthony.”
It’s squishy, but neatly wrapped. He almost doesn’t dare open in, he’s so touched at the gesture but Kate is looking at him expectantly so he slowly unravels the packaging until he’s left with a folded piece of fabric. The fabric is rough and he can’t tell what he’s holding, if it’s maybe a tote back, but when he shakes it out it’s longer than he expected, a plethora of colours taking over his vision.
“I painted it myself,” Kate explains, softly. “It’s hyacinths.”
It’s an apron, like the one he is wearing now, but it’s spring themed, full of hyacinths in bright colours. It’s gorgeous, the brush strokes sure but soft, and Anthony cannot believe she made this for him, because it’s so obviously for him and only him, the flowers his littlest sister is named after.
“It’s incredible, Kate.” He doesn’t think it’s nearly enough to convey how much this means to him, but he can’t find any better words. “Thank you.”
“I thought you’ll have to retire this apron soon,” she says, sounding a bit bashful. “So better to get you a new one.”
Anthony suddenly feels panicked. “I don’t have anything for you,” he confesses. “I didn’t think you liked me much until yesterday.”
Kate waves him off. “Of course. I didn’t expect you to. I was just feeling inspired.”
Anthony doesn’t dare touch her yet. He thinks he won’t let go if he does. Instead he just clutches the apron to him.
Kate runs her hand through her hair. “I didn’t think I liked you much until yesterday either.”
Anthony knows that, rationally, but it still hurts a bit to hear.
“Oh,” he says, trying not to let it show. “What changed?”
“I found out Sophie wasn’t your girlfriend.” She slightly slaps his arm. “You really did a great job at making it seem like you were a cheating jerk, you know?”
Anthony splutters. “What? What gave you that idea?”
“You always seemed to be hosting romantic dinners and whenever I tried to subtly find out if you had a girlfriend you’d refuse to give me a straight answer. And then you called Sophie ‘the girlfriend’ after putting the moves on me all night!” She looks at him incredulously. “Did you not realise?”
“I did the dinners to impress you,” he mumbles, embarrassed. She beams at that.
“Is tonight’s dinner to impress me as well?” Her voice has dropped a bit and he shivers when he realises that the reason it’s familiar is because he’d heard it last night, when she was on top of him and-
“It was to distract me from you,” he tells her honestly. There’s no reason to be nervous, she just gave him the most beautiful Christmas gift, she had come to seek him out and yet he can feel his heart beating when he continues when he asks her if she’d like to stay. She beams at him when he does and when he makes to change out of his Christmas apron into the one she got him, she looks so honestly flattered he can’t restrain himself anymore and reaches out to her.
It’s the first time he’s glad for the fire alarm in his flat because if it hadn’t gone off, he might have well been at risk of burning down the whole building, he’s so lost to her touch.
When he comes back into the sitting room, his arms loaded with the bit of stew that wasn’t a burnt pile at the bottom of his pan, she’s holding the same branch of pine tree in her hand as last night.
“Mistletoe,” he jokes and she laughs, and Anthony thinks the sound of it is the best gift he’s received all year.