Chapter 26
DREW
‘Uncle Drew!’ Maisie throws her arms around my waist and squeezes tightly. ‘I missed you.’
‘That’s laying it on a bit thick, Mais. I saw you last weekend.’
She drops her arms – and the guise. ‘Did you bring me a present from Switzerland?’
I drop my head to the side. ‘Would your favourite uncle forget his favourite niece? Let’s go in the kitchen – I brought something for your mom and dad too.’
‘Okay.’
Maisie skips down the hallway and I follow her into the kitchen, immediately hit with the aroma of coq au vin, one of Gen’s specialties.
She’s at the stove making mashed potatoes and I give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘God, it smells good in here.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Although after days on end of schnitzel, fries, and cheese, I’d probably say the same about steamed broccoli.’
‘And voilà,’ she says, tapping on the lid of a smaller pot.
‘If you weren’t already married to my brother, I’d propose.’
‘Hah!’ she laughs. ‘Chris opened some wine,’ she says, nodding towards the island, and I help myself to a glass.
‘Uncle Drew,’ Maisie whines from her spot at the breakfast bar – legs swinging and her chin propped in her hands.
‘Sorry, Mais.’
I dig her present out of my messenger bag and hand it over.
She carefully unwraps the gold paper, revealing a box.
She glances up at me, eyes wide with excitement.
The tip of her tongue pokes out and she opens the box, taking out a snow globe of an Alpine town at Christmastime, cradling it in her hands.
‘Oh, Uncle Drew, I love it.’
‘I thought you might. I know how much you love Christmas.’ She nods reverently, her eyes soaking in the details. ‘Shake it, Mais.’
She looks up at me, uncertain – hasn’t she ever seen a snow globe before? – but gives it a little shake, gasping when the globe fills with snow.
She sets it down and slides off the stool, coming around to give me another hug – more sincere this time. ‘Thanks, Uncle Drew.’
‘You’re welcome.’
She looks up. ‘Did you bring one for Mummy and Daddy too?’ she asks.
‘They get cheese – and wine.’
She screws up her face – she obviously thinks she got the better deal.
‘Maisie, go and wash your hands and tell Daddy ten minutes until dinner.’
‘Okay.’
Maisie leaves and runs up the stairs calling, ‘Dad-dee, ten minutes till dinner!’
Gen sniggers. ‘I could have done that.’
I sip my wine, taking the stool Maisie just vacated.
‘So how was Switzerland?’ Gen asks, adding a glug of cream to the potatoes.
‘Yeah, good. It snowed while we were there.’
‘Oh yeah? I heard the ad shoot went well.’
‘Definitely – good crew, solid cast. And Max was a pro, despite the pain.’
‘Poor bloke. Although, I suppose heli-skiing is considered an extreme sport for a reason.’ This is as close as Gen will get to saying Max brought it on himself. ‘How much longer will he be there?’
‘Should be out of traction by mid-December.’
‘Oh, that’s good.’
‘Yeah. Uh, Gen?’
‘Mmm?’
‘Do you think it’d be okay if Max came for Christmas?’
‘You mean here?’ she asks. She stops stirring and faces me. I give her a contrite grimace. ‘Oh, you already invited him.’
‘Little bit.’
Her lips flatten into a line. ‘Fine,’ she says with a resigned sigh.
‘Thanks, Gen.’
She goes back to cooking, taking the broccoli off the stove and straining it over the sink. Do I bring up the other thing? She’s busy with dinner, and Chris and Maisie will be down soon, but I don’t really have anyone else to talk to.
‘Hey, Gen?’
‘Yep?’
‘There’s something else… It’s about Sophie.’
She stops suddenly, puts down the pot of broccoli, turns off the heat on the stove – and the oven – and faces me again.
‘Go.’
Only now she’s put me on the spot, I freeze.
‘Did something happen between you?’ she asks, her eyes narrowing.
‘Yes.’
‘And?’ she presses.
‘And I fucked it up.’
‘You’ve got to give me more than that.’ Her eyes dart towards the door. ‘And quickly.’
I suck in a deep breath and start talking, glossing over the sex part – there are certain things you don’t share with your sister-in-law.
‘She even had the airline change her seat, so she didn’t have to sit next to me. And I tried to talk to her at baggage claim, but she pretended not to see me.’
‘Wow, that’s…’
‘It’s a lost cause, isn’t it?’ I ask.
‘I’m not going to lie, Drew, it sounds pretty grim.’
I swallow hard, the hollowness in the pit of my stomach doubling in size. I give Gen a rueful smile. ‘Back to the apps, I guess.’
She looks at me intently, as if she’s trying to unpick the fabric of my brain.
‘What do you want, Drew?’
‘Want?’
‘Do you want a relationship?’
‘I— I didn’t think I did but… Sophie’s different. She’s genuine and I like being around her. She calls me on my bullshit. And she’s way smarter than me in a lot of ways, which makes me better. And god, she’s beautiful. I mean, crazy beautiful.’
‘What about Harlow?’ Gen asks.
‘She’s a super-cool kid – smart like her mom – funny, sweet. I like being around her.’
Gen nods. ‘So, is there any reason you’re telling me all of this and not Sophie?’
‘Well, yeah – she hates me.’
‘I seriously doubt that.’
‘You didn’t see how pissed she was, Gen.’
‘No, but—’
‘And I still don’t get it. I thought I was doing the right thing.’
‘Do you want to hear my thoughts?’ she asks.
‘Yes – definitely.’
‘You were playing the white knight. “Here I am to rescue you, Sophie – to make all your problems go away.”’
‘But—’
‘Let me finish.’ I nod. ‘Women like Sophie – independent capable women – do not want to be rescued. Loved, sure. Supported, absolutely. But not rescued. We want to vent, and to have someone on our side – but unless we explicitly ask, we don’t want solutions and we certainly don’t want a man to come in, thinking he knows best, and trying to fix everything. ’
‘Oh,’ I murmur. ‘So you think that’s what I did?’
‘I’d say so, yes.’
‘Right.’ It makes sense considering what Sophie said about swooping in to save her. ‘And you said “we” – we want to vent, we don’t want solutions…’
‘Yep. It’s probably the thing Chris and I fight about the most.’
‘Wow.’
‘But this isn’t about me and Chris,’ she says. ‘Do you get what I’m saying?’
‘I made it about me, didn’t I?’ I ask, already knowing the answer.
‘Yes.’
‘And I need to apologise.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think she’ll… I don’t know… give me another chance?’
‘Only one way to find out.’
I’d hoped for something more definitive, but it’s not nothing. There’s at least a sliver of hope.
‘I hear you brought cheese,’ says Chris, entering the kitchen, Maisie right behind him. ‘They sell that here in England, you know.’
‘Should have just brought you a Toblerone from Heathrow,’ I quip.
‘Hilarious.’
He and Maisie start setting the table while Gen dishes coq au vin into large bowls, and I go around the island and lean in close.
‘Thanks, Gen,’ I say, smacking another kiss on her cheek. ‘You’re the best.’
‘I know. Now take the broccoli to the table, then get out of here.’
Sophie
The cab stops outside my house, the light from the lounge windows casting a warm, yellow glow. I exhale, tension ebbing from my body.
I’m home.
‘Hello!’ I call out as I bundle through the front door. I drop my suitcase in the hallway, turning around at the thump of Harlow’s feet on the stairs.
‘Mum!’ She launches herself at me and I wrap her in a tight hug, inhaling the aroma of her cinnamon-scented shampoo.
‘Hi, darling girl, I missed you.’
‘I missed you too.’
Like always, I hold on until she lets go first.
‘Welcome home, Sophie.’
Connie’s standing in the doorway to the kitchen and I give her a smile.
‘Thanks! Whatever you’re making smells amazing.’
‘Oh, it’s only shepherd’s pie,’ she says, waving me off. She’s being modest – Connie’s shepherd’s pie is to die for.
‘Well, let me just grab a shower and I’ll be down in ten or fifteen minutes. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m starving.’
‘Take your time,’ she says.
I’m halfway up the stairs when she adds, ‘And can I pour you a glass of wine?’
‘Does a bear shit in the woods?’ I retort with a laugh.
‘Mum!’
‘Sorry,’ I bellow.
I close the bathroom door and run the shower until it’s steaming hot, then step under the stream with a sigh.
Nothing beats a shower after a day’s travel and I stay under the water for way longer than I normally would, even washing my hair.
I hadn’t planned on an everything shower – not with my stomach growling in protest – but it’s not only the travel I want to wash away.
Drew and I barely spoke today – I chose another carriage on the train and swapped seats for the flight, so that’s mostly on me. But it still feels like shit.
At least I have the weekend – a Drew-free zone to sort through the mess inside my head.
And my heart.
The water starts to go cold and I get out of the shower, dry off, and wrap a towel around my head like a turban – I’ll dry it properly after dinner.
I quickly brush my teeth, even though I’m about to eat, slather on some moisturiser, and snuggle into my fluffy robe, pulling the tie tight around my waist.
‘Ooh, that’s better,’ I mutter to my reflection – never underestimate the restorative powers of a hot shower.
Opening the bathroom door, I stop short. That’s a man’s voice. No, not a man’s voice – Drew’s.
I peek around the corner and he’s standing in the hallway with Harlow, his luggage by the door. It’s ridiculous how good he looks, even though he obviously hasn’t been home yet – handsome in a rumpled, travel-worn way.
Meanwhile I look like I kidnapped a Muppet and made a robe out of its fur. And even if I didn’t, what do I say to him? For a second, I consider hiding in my room, but Harlow catches sight of me.
‘There’s Mum,’ she says, dobbing me in. Resigned, I step out onto the landing.
‘Drew came to visit,’ she says, giving him a huge smile, the little traitor. Only that’s not fair – she has no idea what happened between us. She’s still playing matchmaker.
‘I see that,’ I say evenly.
‘Hi,’ he says.
‘Hello,’ I reply.
I descend a few steps, stopping halfway down the staircase. I don’t want to get too close to Drew – from my experience, that can be dangerous.