41. James
Chapter 41
James
I set off early to visit my parents in Toton, where I grew up on the outskirts of Nottingham in the Midlands. It’s surrounded by trails and nature reserves, where Lucas first discovered his love of hiking. He sought peace out amongst nature any time the weather permitted, as I was holed up in my room immersing myself in music, moving my fingers along my guitar as I practiced endlessly.
Growing up, we didn’t have much, but Toton offered a good school and access to after-school programs and hobbies, like my music lessons. It’s a welcoming community. Knowing Mum would be well cared for after we left made it easier to move to a new city after finishing my A-levels. She’s active in local clubs, has made great friends, and finds purpose in the social circles that keep her happily engaged and out of the house.
Dad, on the other hand, isn’t one for change. He sticks to what he knows, finding comfort in familiarity, which has suited Mum well enough.
Their marriage has always seemed steady but lacking the open affection I witnessed between my friends’ parents. Lucas and I, despite being grateful for all our parents provided, never felt we could open up to Dad as easily as we could with Mum. He’s stiffer. More serious.
Growing up in Toton provided a great start, but Lucas and I both longed to experience big-city life, so we made our way to London as soon as we could, only returning home during the holidays and long weekends. Lucas moved back to Toton for a brief period after he and April split, but according to Mum, he recently set himself up in a small flat in Battersea, so I can’t deny that I’m relieved he won’t be home for the conversation I’m about to have with Mum and Dad.
The guitar solo blasts through the car cabin, and I tap my fingers against the steering wheel. It’s about a two-and-a-half-hour drive from London to Toton, giving me plenty of time to crank the volume and lose myself in music without complaint from the neighbours. And I’m making the most of it, blaring the latest release from Bound to Oblivion.
I pull up in front of Mum and Dad’s brown brick, semi-detached and turn off the ignition. It’s been ten years since I’ve lived here, and the street hasn’t changed a bit.
Mum swings open the door, beaming as she rushes towards me. She’s in her usual trousers and white shirt, with that soft maroon cardigan she always wears. Her chestnut hair is cut into a bob, and her tortoiseshell glasses perch on her small nose. She’s so cute.
“Peter!” she calls over her shoulder. “James is here!”
I lean down, letting her eager arms wrap around me as I lift her off the ground. She squeals, laughing as I spin her around, then set her gently back down. She swats at my chest, still giggling, and I return her bright smile.
I really need to make more of an effort to see her. I’ve become slack since amping up with band practice. I call her a few times a week to check in but seeing her face light up in person stirs warmth in my chest.
Dad appears in the doorway. “Son,” he says, giving me a sharp nod.
“Dad,” I reply, clapping him firmly on the shoulder as I step inside. The furniture dotted throughout the home is sparse but decent, most having previously belonged to my grandparents. I follow Mum into the family room, where a cup of tea and a plate of her homemade gingerbread biscuits sit waiting on the table.
She knows they’re my favourite, the angel.
Mum and Dad settle on the sofa, while I sink into a floral armchair across from them. Leaning forward, I snatch a cookie off the plate. They’re still warm.
Dunking it into my tea, I take a generous bite. An ungentlemanly groan escapes me—nothing beats Mum’s homemade gingerbread. I glance at Mum, her eyes gleaming. She loves feeding people. It’s her love language—you only have to look at Dad’s pot belly to see the proof.
Dad murmurs around a mouthful of gingerbread. “So, what’s new, son?”
I swallow before answering. “Same as always—practising. The audition’s next week. I got you both tickets, just in case you’re able to make it. It’d mean the world to me if you were there. I know it’s a long trip for you both, but?—”
Mum waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t be silly. We wouldn’t miss it for the world, love.”
“We’ll be there,” Dad says.
Pride unfurls inside me. They haven’t seen me play in years, and the thought of them witnessing how much I’ve grown as a musician excites me. When I first chose to pursue music after forming the band, their concern was only natural. I understand how few musicians land deals or make enough to live comfortably—it was a risk. But I was never cut out for a life of desk jobs, shirt and tie, or buried in textbooks— sucking the corporate cock , as I call it. I hated school and studying. That was always Lucas’s path, never mine. It was never going to be. Once they understood how dedicated I was to music, their support became steadfast. After seeing Oliver struggle with his own parents’ acceptance, I recognise how fortunate I am.
“Thanks, that means a lot,” I say, and Mum’s lips tug into a soft smile.
Dad takes a sip of his tea. “Have you seen your brother since he moved back?”
I let out a long breath, brushing crumbs off my leg. I knew this was coming.
“Uh, no. I haven’t,” I say, rubbing at the nape of my neck. Might as well get this over with—like pulling a loose tooth. “Actually, speaking of Lucas, that’s kind of why I’m here.”
“Oh?” Mum leans forward, and she shares a quick glance with Dad.
“Yeah.” I take a steadying breath. “There’s really no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it.” I close my eyes and say a silent prayer that they won’t bite my head off. Dad is known to be … unpredictable at the best of times.
I hadn’t expected to feel this nervous.
“What’s wrong?” Mum asks.
I open my eyes and meet hers. “I’m seeing April.”
Mum freezes, her mug halfway to her mouth as silence settles over the room. Her expression shifts from concern to something illegible, and Dad just stares with a frown.
It feels an eternity before anyone speaks.
Shit.
“Dad—” I begin.
He holds up his hand, stopping me. “I heard you, son. Just … give me a minute.”
Mum looks at me with surprise and curiosity. “You and April,” she says. “As in, you and April are …”
“Together. Yes,” I finish for her.
“Right,” she says, lifting her eyebrows as she nods to herself.
“How long has this been going on?” Dad asks, sitting up straight.
“A few weeks now,” I confess, rubbing my hands over my thighs.
“And your brother … he knows?” Mum asks, wincing slightly as she grinds the words out.
“He knows.” I nod.
The room falls silent again, the only sound the loud tick of the creepy old grandfather clock echoing from the entryway.
“Well,” Mum finally says, “I always thought you held a candle for her.”
“What?” I ask, genuinely surprised.
She nods. “I noticed the way you used to look at her.”
“No, I didn’t,” I say.
“You did, son,” Dad says.
Well, fuck. How was it so obvious to everybody except me?
“You’re not mad?” I ask.
Dad shoots me a lopsided grin. “Son, you’re twenty-nine years old. You’re an adult. Of course we aren’t mad at you. Surprised, sure.” He shrugs. “I can’t say the same for your brother, of course.”
I scrub a hand down my face and my shoulders sag with relief.
“Honey …” Mum leans forward, placing her mug gently on the coffee table. “All a loving parent ever wants is for their children to be happy. So, are you happy?”
I think of April and my heart swells. “Yeah. I am. She makes me happy.”
She gives me a small, understanding smile. “I know you and your brother don’t exactly see eye to eye,” she starts, lifting a hand to stop me before I can jump in, “and I don’t need to know the ins and outs of it all—that’s between you two. You’re grown men now, and I can’t make you do anything. But I do care about April—deeply. And I’m not so daft as to think their break-up was only about ‘communication issues.’” She looks at me with a mix of sadness and knowing. “All I ask, James, is that you’re honest with him.”
I nod, understanding.
“Good,” she says, reaching for her mug.
“How did Lucas react when he found out?” Dad asks, his tone serious.
“He was livid,” I say.
Dad blows out a breath and shakes his head. “Give it time. He’ll come round.”
Jesus. There is so much I could say, but I bite back my words. I decided I wouldn’t share the truth behind my and Abigail’s break-up, and I’ll stick to my word. Instead, I force a smile and bite into a fresh piece of gingerbread.
“How is she?” Mum asks, her voice soft.
“She’s good. Really good, actually.”
“Is it serious, this thing between you and her?” she asks.
“Yeah, Mum. It’s serious.” The corner of her eyes crinkle as she smiles. She always had a soft spot for April. “I plan on bringing her here for Christmas … If you’re happy to have us both?”
Mum’s face lights up as she claps her hands together in excitement. “Oh, that would be wonderful!” She looks at Dad. “Wouldn’t it, Peter?”
Dad inhales deeply—wary—I can only assume because of Lucas’s impending reaction, before his shoulders droop. “It would be wonderful.” He clears his throat. “But perhaps we’ll break that news to your brother, yes?”
I couldn’t agree more. I can’t even imagine how awkward that would be. And, as much as I dislike him, I don’t want to rub it in his face. “I’d appreciate that, thank you,” I say, shooting him a grateful smile.
Mum looks between us, her excitement still bubbling. She stands, brushing down her trousers before walking over to me. Leaning close, she presses her cheek to mine, holding my shoulders with both hands. I cover one of her hands with my own as she says, “It’s about time you found someone who sees you as we do, James. You’re a brilliant man, and April is a delight. I’m pleased for you, love. I really am.”
We spend the next couple of hours chatting. Mum fills me in on her latest book club read, something a little more scandalous than the ladies in Toton are used to, apparently, and I can’t help but laugh, trying to picture her reading and discussing steamy romance novels. Good for her. She seems happy.
I fill them in on the songs we’ve selected for the audition and give them a rundown on how the day is expected to unfold.
I hug each of them as we say our goodbyes. Mum squeezes me, planting a firm kiss on my cheek and I laugh, lifting my hand to rub off the smudged lipstick. Just as I’m about to leave, Dad hurries into the kitchen and returns holding an unlabelled bottle of red wine.
“What’s this?” I ask, studying the bottle.
Pride flashes in his eyes. “I’ve started making my own wine. Rob from down the road got me set up with a home kit. It’s a Spanish variety, Rioja. It’s turned out pretty decent. Here,” he says, extending the bottle towards me. “Share it with April.”
I accept it, reading the subtle changes in his expression. He looks relaxed, almost content. I lift the bottle in salute. “Will do, Dad. Cheers.” I’m just about to step out the door when Mum’s small fingers wrap around my biceps. I stop in my tracks.
Mum considers me, her voice firm. “She’s a beautiful woman, James. You treat her well. She’s been through enough.”
“I will,” I promise, bending down to plant a kiss on her head.
On the way home, I belt out the lyrics to my favourite song. I’m so relieved we managed to have that conversation without anyone losing their shit. It feels like a monumental weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
No more secrets.
No more sneaking around.
I step on the accelerator, eager to get back home to my girl.