‘Time doesn’t matter when people find what they want; they see what I see.’
I swallowed hard. ‘And what’s that?’
His eye contact never wavered.
‘Someone worth bringing home.’
And sitting in a room full of loud, loving family, Henry wrapped his arm around me, holding me close as we enjoyed thechaos together. I realised I might be falling so fast I couldn’t stop things from snowballing.
twenty-four
HENRY
The house was stillhalf asleep when I headed downstairs the next morning. The heating hadn't quite kicked in yet, so the kitchen tiles were chilly underfoot. The whole place smelled faintly of last night's dinner and the sourness of wineglasses that hadn’t been washed yet.
I thought I'd be the first one up, but I found Mum already standing at the sink. She swayed along to the radio, her sleeves rolled up, and her hands sank into the suds. Dishes stacked precariously on the counters, bowls, plates, glasses, even bits of confetti and discarded paper crowns. I spied a stray piece of glittered wrapping paper and grinned. Dad swept up wrapping paper with intense precision, ready to recycle it as soon as it hit the floor; he’d be most irritated to see a piece had escaped.
‘Morning,’ I said, kissing Mum on the cheek and grabbing a tea towel.
The lines around her eyes crinkled. 'Morning, duck. You're up early.'
‘Couldn’t sleep.’
'Didn't think you would', she laughed, passing me the first wet tray straight from the sink.
I took it, as I swiped the towel over it before we worked through the rest. There was something comforting about it, the clink of the dishes and the quiet routine. It was like being young again, so often had I been the first up with Mum, helping her clean after one of their raucous parties. The two of us side by side, chatting about life, or nothing.
Minutes later, she broke the silence in that way that only mothers can. Sounding casual, but darting through to your innermost worries with precision.
‘So, tell me about Amanda.’
‘What about her?’ I asked, trying for non-commital and failing miserably.
Mum chuckled, far more amused than sympathetic. ‘Don’t play dumb, Henry. It doesn’t suit you. I haven’t seen you look at someone like that since you were a teen who fell in love with every pretty girl you saw.’
I sighed. ‘Mum. I was an idiot at fifteen.’
‘Mmm, so spill. Who is she to you? You’ve never seriously brought a woman home to meet us.’
I dried slowly, feeling the question twisting the doubts I already had.
‘She's…' I swallowed. 'She's everything. She's strong, and sharp, and more guarded than she wants people to realise. She carries so much on her shoulders she forgets how to set anything down. And she’s also sweet, and soft, and so perfect beneath all the armour.’
Mum's smile widened. 'You're smitten'.
I huffed out a laugh. ‘Yeah. I think I am.’
‘Is she your girlfriend?'
I paused mid-dry of a bowl, because I’d been avoiding that question inside my own head.
'Not in so many words,' I said. 'We haven't put a name on anything. It’s very new.’
Mum glanced at me.’ And yet you brought her home.'
I shrugged. 'I didn't really think it through. It just felt right. And I wasn’t ready to let her leave yet.’
Mum turned the tap off and dried her hands on her apron, leaning back against the counter.
