I can’t handle this information. Next they’re going to reveal that he also started an orphanage and helps refugees and donates to children’s literacy programs. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a Bat Cave underneath his house.
“He writes the stories, too,” Nat says around a bite of sausage, flicking her short blonde hair out of her eyes. She’s somewhere in her thirties and petite, with graceful features. If she wanted a job as Tinker Bell, Disney would hire her on the spot.
“You’ve probably heard of them. The series is rather famous. It kind of…blew up.” Katie mimics a bomb exploding before leaning in and lowering her voice. “He wrote the books first and they did really well, so the BBC created a television show, and the next thing we knew we were seeing children at the primary with school bags and T-shirts and he was getting all sorts of merch deals.”
“That’s incredible. And now his horses’ names make a lot more sense. What are the books called?”
“Leo and Johnnie.”
“The ones about the dog and the squirrel?” I ask, choking on my water. “I bought those for my nephew.”
More than that, I spoke to Gavin about that series, and he said nothing. I would be annoyed, but I’m pretty sure it’s a sign of his humility. I see him across the room chatting with his doctor bestie. They’re two attractive Scottish men leaning against the wall, sipping at glasses.
“Gav’s not much for talking about himself.” Katie tucks curly dark hair behind her ear, then it bounces free again. She reaches across the counter and picks up a sausage from Nat’s plate. “But he’s quite successful. We’re awfully proud of him.”
“Aye, some more than others.” Nat nods toward the Christmas tree, her eyebrows lifting.
I follow the line of her attention toward a woman in a tight green dress speaking with Gavin’s grandmother. She’s older than me, her red hair gleaming in the twinkle lights and a perfect cat eye making her look chic.
“Blair,” Katie whispers like a curse. “When did she show up? I didn’t invite her.”
“She probably came with her mum.”
Katie shifts so her back is to the living room. “Whatever. I’m not going to make a scene. Distract me with something, Callie. Tell me about yourself.”
That question is universally difficult to answer. It’s way too broad, for starters. Besides, I’m dying to know why Blair is so proud of Gavin and why they don’t seem to want her here.
But Katie’s frowning deeply. She looks genuinely upset, so Itry to distract her. “I’m in grad school in LA. My goal is to be a psychologist, but right now I’m focusing on surviving the next five years.”
“That’s brilliant,” Nat says.
“Have you met Rhona? She does the same thing.”
“No, not yet. But I’ve heard about her. Gavin checks on her every morning.”
“The man’s a right saint,” Katie says.
There’s something satisfying in hearing this from a person who knows him so well, like my internal barometer that gauges people isn’t entirely off.
The song changes on the speakers, and the first few notes of Wham!’s “Last Christmas” fill the cottage.
My head turns toward Gavin on impulse, finding his head just above the small crowd that’s formed in the living room easily because he’s already looking right at me. A smile stretches over his face, then a chuckle rocks his chest softly.
He’s right. This is a banger.
Rory says something to him, nodding toward the tree, and the smile drops from his face immediately. He looks at Nessa speaking to the redhead, Blair. Is his skin turning chalky or is that just the lighting?
“Do you want to be a counselor for children or adults?” Nat asks, forcing my attention back to them.
“Anyone, really. I’ve enjoyed working with a few different age groups already. But youth are my favorite. Middle school and high school age kids in particular.”
“Maybe you can talk to my son,” Katie grumbles, picking up her drink. “Ever since he turned thirteen it’s like he flipped a switch from my sweet little lad into this angry person who thinks everything I say is embarrassing and only wants to dress like the Addams family.”
“He sounds like a teenager,” I say carefully.
“It’s his dad,” Nat says with authority. “Jack finds onepicture of his dad in a band while he was at university and boom.” She snaps. “It becomes his entire personality.”
“He does idolize the eejit,” Katie says thoughtfully. Then she looks at me. “My ex lives in Glasgow. Jack sees him occasionally, but they aren’t close.”
