Dinner was a rather awkward event in the Knightley/Woodhouse family that evening. The usual conversation that revolved around Alex and Emma teasing each other and quarrelling stubbornly, or with the two sisters talking at a maddening speed, was replaced by an uneasy silence. Even the children could sense that there was something odd happening between the adults. They sat subdued and whispered quietly amongst themselves. The only person that seemed oblivious to the tension in the room was John Knightley who eventually struck up a conversation on his ten year plan with his brother. Izzy excused herself complaining of travel sickness and Emma sat by herself, watching the children delightedly eat their dessert. She would not under any circumstances even glance at Alex. She could not allow herself to fawn over a man that refused to do the same. Emma Woodhouse was trying her very hardest to convince herself she was better for it. After all what good would it be to have a boyfriend? She had never really wished for one, why should she start now? Especially when the boy concerned was one Alex Knightley, sensible, rigid, stern, everything boring, everything strict, he payed too much attention in school and was a down right bore in college, he even ironed his basketball shorts for goodness sake. He was and always had been her opposite, it was a miracle they managed to be friends. She noticed the children thank her and under John's strict orders they filed out of the room one by one to go to bed. The dining room table was now occupied by only two. Having come to this realization Emma hurriedly began to clear what little was left on it. Alex followed her lead and began to do the same. Normally when there were so many dishes Emma would have merely placed them in the dishwasher and be done with it, by having an excess of nervous energy and no way to relive it if she didn't want to alert Izzy, she began to scrub them by hand. This was a mistake it seemed as Alex took it upon himself to dry the dishes as she cleaned them. The two stood in silence not daring to talk, Emma could not trust herself to do so in fear of further damaging their relationship, Alex thought it best not to hurt Emma any further, nor encourage her as she was quite obviously still in a bad state. He rethought his decision as they came to the end of their washing and drying session and Emma made to move away.
"Emma," he spoke as she made to leave.
She stood as she was, back turned, praying he would let her be. She stood unnaturally still, picking at her nail polish as she tried to even her breathing. She would not cry over a boy. She was Emma Woodhouse.
"Your guests have gone to bed," he pointed out.
"Stating the obvious again Mr Knightley," She replied quickly. "And one of them, it seems, hasn't so you would also be incorrect in your statement." She took another deep breath and turned facing him properly in what felt like an eternity.
"I'm glad you still consider me a guest," his attempt at humour did nothing to alleviate Emma's anxiety and she glanced away from him quickly. He pushed her hair from her face which had progressively become rather dishevelled over the course of the night, and she glanced back at him, focusing on his ear rather than his face. She began cracking her fingers, one by one, setting Alex's teeth on edge and he reached out to stop her.
"I really wish you wouldn't do that," he pulled at her hands and held them away from each other. Emma quickly moved them from his grasp and backed away a little.
"Did you have some of the wine tonight?" she asked, to change the subject.
Alex nodded and Emma held out her hand for his keys.
"I will get you a blanket," at this she briskly walked away from him doing her utmost not to break into a run and practically collapsed when she reached her linen cupboard.
Alex made his way to living room after changing into the spare pyjamas Emma kept for him, to find her making up a place for him on the couch.
"The others have the spare bedrooms," she apologized. "So this will have to do." As an afterthought she added. "I could always take the couch and you could have my bed…" She popped one last pillow at the end of the couch and turned to face him better. He could have at least put a shirt on. He was being absolutely ridiculous.
"No, I'm fine with the couch, Emma." He slid under the fluffy duvet and smiled up at her. Emma smiled sadly back. "Goodnight, Emma."
"Goodnight, Alex."