Chapter Thirteen
Two years, ten months ago
Two years, four months until Hattie’s engagement party
It took nearly a year from their first date in Paris for Finn to convince Mel to let him meet her parents.
He suspected it was because she’d been unsure, in the beginning, just how serious he was about her, had been determined to treat it casually—made easier by the fact they didn’t live in the same city, given he was always moving around.
When he’d finally convinced her, it had been right in at the deep end—not a Sunday roast or evening meal, but a weeklong holiday, skiing in the Alps.
Mel had never been skiing before and it had been just after that whatshername influencer had posted about Mel’s jewelry and the whole thing had gone viral.
For the first time in her life, she’d said, she had disposable cash and she was using it to take her parents on holiday.
If he wanted to, she’d said, looking at him from bed, the sheet halfway down her torso, he could come along too.
He’d been a little distracted at the time, and had only realized what he’d agreed to a few days later.
He realized, then, that he’d never “met the parents” before in his life and had absolutely no idea what to expect, how to make them like him.
He’d asked Mark for advice first. Just be yourself, he’d said easily.
Then, helpfully, No, wait. Don’t. Parents probably won’t like the lack-of-stable-career thing.
Maybe keep what you do for a living quiet?
Also don’t mention that you’ve never had a serious girlfriend before.
And maybe steer clear of the fact that your own parents are divorced.
Why the hell would that matter?
Mark had shrugged. Warning bells for some people, isn’t it?
His mum had been better, but not exactly useful. They’ll love you, Finn. How could they not?
It was Priya, in the end, who’d given him the best advice, after he’d cornered her desperately one night in her and Mel’s flat. She’d given him a shrewd look up and down, then nodded, like she’d decided something.
They’ll like you already, because they love Mel and she’s happy with you. Don’t listen to your brother. They’ll love the flipping houses thing—it shows you’re independent and earning a solid income and running your own business, which they’ll think is great.
It’s not exactly—
It’s a business if you say it is, she’d said firmly.
Don’t put yourself down. Priya was good at being stern with people when she needed to be—probably the teacher in her.
Neither of them have been traveling very much, so France will be a big thing for them—don’t make it seem like you’ve been everywhere and Mel nowhere—that’ll make them feel bad.
I wouldn’t—
But do say how much you’re loving France—they’ll want to feel like everyone is having a good time, even if Mel is the one paying.
Okay. Check.
Don’t bother trying to talk sport or anything macho like that with Gavin—he doesn’t care.
He does like his garden, and is proud of it—so gardening chat wouldn’t go amiss.
Show him photos of that garden you did up in Dorset—he’ll love that.
And I know Mel doesn’t go in for all the old-school gentlemanly stuff—
Gentlemanly? Finn asked, teasing.
Yes. Priya was still full-on no-nonsense. Like opening doors and carrying luggage. But Eleanor loves all that crap, so go big or go home.
He’d nodded, letting out a breath. Thanks, Priya.
She’d clapped him on the shoulder. You’ll be great.
How do you know?
She’d smiled. Because you’re worried. And with that, she’d pulled him in and given him a hug—possibly the moment that had cemented them as friends, rather than just that unique friend’s boyfriend–girlfriend’s friend dynamic.
He’d done as instructed—opening the taxi door for Eleanor on the way out of the airport, asking Gavin if he had any plans for the garden come spring—earning a quizzical look from Mel. And, after a couple of days, he had felt more relaxed than he’d been expecting.
He and Mel had broken away from her parents on day three, heading off to try Mel’s first red slope, which Eleanor and Gavin had insisted would be far too much for them.
He remembered skiing down the slope, the sky a clear blue, snow glistening in the sun—that way it only really does in the mountains.
He’d been skiing a few times before—he wasn’t brilliant, but given Mel had never been before he was a bit better than her.
He remembered how annoyed she was about that—and about the fact that she didn’t immediately master it.
He’d been starting to realize by then that Mel could achieve anything she put her mind to—she wasn’t in your face about it, but was quietly determined.
Her blue eyes were bright when they reached the bottom of the slope, her cheeks rosy. She looked so goddamned cute. She huffed as she reached down to unclip her skis.
“I just want to be good at it,” she said, continuing the conversation they’d had at the top of the slope. She looked one step away from stamping her foot, and it made him grin.
“Well, that takes practice.” He cocked his head. “And are you sure you want to be good, or just better than me?”
She made a face and he knew he was right. He laughed and she sighed, shaking her head. “I promise I’m not always this competitive.”
“Ah, you don’t have to lie to me. I love that about you, anyway.”
Her eyes flashed to his and he realized what he’d said.
Like. He should have said he liked that about her.
And he did—he liked her drive, her purpose, the way she applied it to almost everything.
But love, that was a big step. One he wasn’t quite ready to take yet.
He’d never said it to anyone outside his family before—and was a little scared of what it might mean, to say it out loud, to offer up that kind of commitment.
Also—a horrible squirm in his stomach—what if she didn’t say it back?
She was cocking her head, studying him. Then she smiled, a little slyly, and his heart lurched. Trouble—that whole smile screamed trouble.
“Oh, really?” Her voice was practically a purr.
“What else do you love about me?” He felt the squirm in his stomach twist into panic, and she laughed at whatever expression crossed his face.
“Relax, Finn, I’m teasing.” She nudged him gently in the side, then glanced around.
“Where are Mum and Dad? Weren’t they doing the blue slope? ”
“Ah…Actually, they told me they’d meet us at the après-ski when we were done.” They’d pulled him aside to do so, to avoid the risk, so Gavin said, that Mel would make them ski until their legs buckled.
Mel rolled her eyes. “Typical.” But they trudged through the snow toward the wooden building that acted as a bar, nestled on the side of the mountain. The sun was still high in the sky, but already people were sitting outside, sunglasses on, beers in hand, ski jackets stripped off.
“I like them,” Finn said. “Your parents. In case you were wondering.”
“Thanks. I like them too.” She was making light of it now, but he’d seen how nervous she was when they all met at the airport for the first time.
She had a coffee cup and wouldn’t stop twisting the lid, so that he was sure she was going to spill it all down herself before they even made it through security.
He’d had to ignore it, because she was making him nervous, and when her parents arrived they’d both greeted them a bit too enthusiastically.
Thankfully, Eleanor immediately embarked on a story of the chaotic car journey to the airport, and put everyone at ease.
Mel’s family was different from his—not as chaotic.
But he was enjoying the moments of peace you got, which was something you had to travel quite far to find on any family holiday of his own.
He wondered what it would be like to grow up as an only child—Mel had said, once, that she’d sometimes felt lonely, then immediately contradicted herself by saying everyone felt lonely sometimes, as if she felt guilty for admitting to it.
“You know,” Mel said as they stomped the snow off their boots at the wooden steps, “after this, you’ll have to let me meet your dad—given I shelled out for all of us to come skiing.” Finn grimaced and Mel raised her eyebrows. “He can’t be that bad, surely.”
“He’s not bad so much as…” He gestured hopelessly in midair.
He wasn’t sure what word would describe his flaky, unreliable father, the man who could still make Finn laugh.
The man who had never settled down, who hid behind calling himself a “free spirit” and used that as an excuse to be selfish, doing whatever he wanted.
Who had hurt his mum, over and over. Finn knew he and his dad shared looks, but that it was more than this that people referred to when they said they were alike.
He was dreading introducing him to Mel—because would Mel see the similarities too?
And did that mean he had the capacity to hurt Mel, like his dad had hurt his mum?
Mel squeezed his hand. “Hey. You know I’m joking, right? You don’t have to introduce me until you’re ready.” And that, he thought, was one of the many brilliant things about Mel. He’d never really explained the thing with his dad—she just got it.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get a beer.”
They managed to find Mel’s parents in what had become their usual spot, right at the edge of the outside terrace area, with a view of the snow-topped peaks.
“Given up skiing for the day, then?” Mel asked as she sat down, sliding a pint of beer over to her dad, while Finn handed Eleanor a white-wine spritzer.
They both looked a bit like Mel, he thought.
Gavin had Mel’s eyes, or she had his, he supposed.
And he could see a lot of her mum in her—the hair, obviously, but the shape of her jaw, the arch of her eyebrows too.
“Oh, we love the skiing,” Eleanor said, smiling her thanks at Finn. “Don’t we, Gavin?”
“Hmm? Yes. Jolly good fun.” He winked at Finn. He was a man of few words, but there was something solid about him—and easily likable.
“But we thought we’d have a little rest,” Eleanor continued.
“You are doing marvelously, though—I only wish we could have brought you when you were younger.” Mel waved that away as Eleanor fumbled in her purple ski jacket for her phone.
“Now, I’ve used our little break to set myself up on Instagram. ”
“Have you now?” Mel asked.
“Yes, and just remind me of the name of this woman—the one who posted about your earrings?”
“Felicia St. James.” Finn had never heard of her before this had all kicked off with Mel—but he had now gathered she had over a million followers on Instagram, more on TikTok and one post from her could, as Mel had proved, change someone’s life.
“Okay, now, how do I friend her?”
Mel took Eleanor’s phone to show her. “You can’t have no photos up, though, Mum. People will think you’re some kind of weird sex addict or have a foot fetish or something.”
Eleanor spluttered while Gavin patted her on the back. “I most certainly do not.”
“Well, I know that—but, here, let’s all have a photo.
” Mel held the phone out at arm’s length, made them all lean in together for a selfie.
She checked the photo and for a moment, smiling down at it, Finn thought she looked perfectly happy.
“There,” she said, handing the phone back to her mum.
“You can post that, then follow who you like.”
“Lovely.” Eleanor started swiping down her phone.
“And look! Are these your earrings?” She didn’t turn the phone for any of them to see, but Finn assumed she’d found the viral post. “Oh, Mel, they’re really there!
Gosh, I remember you making these when you were, what, you must have been around sixteen. ”
“Ah…I didn’t make those exact ones when I was sixteen…”
“Well, no, but something similar, I’m sure of it.
You’ve always had the talent. I just knew you’d go far.
Didn’t I always say she’d go far, Gavin?
My daughter! The superstar!” She raised a glass and Finn joined in to toast Mel, while Mel herself went a bit red, and looked very deliberately away, out to the mountains.
“We’re so proud of you, Melly,” Gavin said gruffly, and though Mel pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes to hide it, Finn could see she was a little emotional.
He took her hand, linked his fingers with hers—and was rewarded with the smile he loved.
Another thing he loved— liked about her.
How her smile made everything bigger and brighter.
One smile from her and it was like being high on magic mushrooms. Not that he was totally sure her parents would appreciate that sentiment.
“Now, Finn,” Eleanor said, “I want to know more about you. You’re into houses—is that right?”
“He does them up himself,” Mel said, clearly relieved that she was no longer the center of attention.
“Well, that’s awfully clever. You know, we’ve been thinking of redoing our kitchen…”
“Not that sort of thing, Mum.”
Finn shrugged. “I can probably help a bit—but I’m not an expert. I just give old houses a bit of love—that’s all.” He remembered Priya’s words. Don’t put yourself down.
But Mark constantly told him that flipping houses wasn’t a “proper” job—that there was no stability, no future. And though his mum tried to be supportive he knew she worried about those same things too.
“It’s not all, ” Mel said. “He’s amazing. Always makes a profit, and gives old houses a second chance.” Finn squeezed her hand in thanks.
She got out her phone and started swiping through photos—ones he had sent her, before and after shots of a house up near Manchester.
“Here.” She held the phone out to her parents, who made appreciative noises, and the conversation turned to the logistics of doing up houses, and whether Finn thought it would be feasible for Eleanor to get an Aga installed in their kitchen.
Later, as they walked back to the chalet, Finn took Mel’s hand.
He was at that stage where he couldn’t seem to stop touching her.
Her parents were a few steps behind, Eleanor giggling at something Gavin was saying, the moment made impossibly perfect by the stars that were winking out above them.
And when Mel looked up at him, smiled, his heart backflipped.
She cocked her head, clearly seeing something on his face. “What?”
He nearly said it then. But it would take another few months for him to work up the courage. “I’m just happy you invited me—that’s all.” He swung an arm over her shoulder and she leaned into him.
“Me too.”