Stefan shakes his head. “No.”
Sabella looks at me and rolls her eyes. “Watching these two play cricket.”
Stefan swings his head to look at me, eyes widening. My cheeks flush with warmth, and my head nods. I decide not to try to talk.
“They were good,” Sabella carries on. “But cricket is very boring.”
“Cricket is awesome!” Rubin says. “We weren’t good. We were only on the school team, and we lost eight times out of ten. Neither of us was ever going to be the next Alastair Cook.” Rubin turns his attention to Stefan. “We quit at the end of year eleven.”
“You’re the same age?” Stefan asks, directing his question at Rubin rather than me.
“Yes.”
I jerk as though waking up from a nap. Stefan puts his hand on my thigh beneath the table.
“How’s work going?” Dad asks me.
I glance at Rubin, wondering what, if anything, he’s told them. “Okay. I handed in the illustrations for a new book yesterday.”
My stepbrother smiles and gives me a surreptitious nod.
“When can we buy it?” Sabella asks.
Dad and Sabella have bought every book I’ve illustrated.
“Not for a few months. I’m not sure of the exact release date. I’ll let you know when I do.”
“What do you do, Stefan?” Dad asks.
My skin prickles beneath the neck of my jumper. I should have anticipated this question. Did Stefan?
“Customer care for the entertainment industry.” Stefan sounds so suave and relaxed when he talks. His voice is like warm honey.
I’m not sure the vague job description he’s given is even a thing, but Dad and Sabella seem to accept his answer. I’ll need to thank him later for saving us both from an embarrassing conversation.
“Rubin does graphic design for the entertainment industry,” Sabella says. “Perhaps you work in similar circles?”
“Similar,” I say, coughing.
Rubin smirks as he pours me some still water.
“Am I missing something?” Sabella asks, looking between the three of us.
“Nope.” I drink the water.
“What company do you work for?” Sabella asks Stefan.
“You wouldn’t have heard of it.”
“Funny. Rubin says that too.”
Stefan glances at me, eyebrow raised inquisitively.
“Are you going to open your gifts?” I ask Sabella in an effort to change the subject.
“Ah yes, I was waiting for the two of you to arrive.” She picks up a gift wrapped in peacock-blue paper and checks the label. “This one’s from Bryan.” She briefly rests her head on his shoulder and then opens it. Inside is a box with a large, brightly coloured pendant in it. “It’s beautiful!” She puts it down, grasps Dad’s face in both hands, and kisses him loudly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
