James rounds the car, opening the back door and carefully lifting Basil’s carrier. Raising it to eye level, he shakes his head, grinning. “You dirty bastard,” he says, and Basil lets out a low meow in response.
The front door swings open, and Caroline hurries out, arms wide. I beam, unable to hold back my excitement. “Caroline!”
“Merry Christmas, honey!” she exclaims, enveloping me in one of her firm hugs.
“Merry Christmas,” I return, rubbing her back affectionately before stepping away. James moves towards her, bending slightly to kiss her hello as she reaches for Basil’s carrier. A distinct, unpleasant odour wafts through the air, making us all pause.
“Oh!” Caroline cries, wrinkling her nose and waving a hand in front of her face. “What’s that God-awful smell?”
I giggle, sharing a glance with James. “Basil pooed in his carrier.”
She clicks her tongue, peering down at Basil’s guilty little face. “You’re lucky you’re cute!” she scolds before tottering back towards the house. We follow her inside where we’re immediately wrapped in comforting warmth. The scent of roast chicken, potatoes, and gingerbread fills the air, creating a delightfully cosy atmosphere.
As I shrug off my coat, heavy footsteps fall from the staircase. We’re staying for three nights before heading back home, so I cross my fingers, hoping for a miracle. I hang up my coat and turn, finding myself face-to-face with Lucas. I have to crane my neck to look up at him. A flicker of hurt crosses his face before it’s quickly replaced with indifference.
With a steadying breath, I decide to be the bigger person and step forward, opening my arms for him. I’m shaking from the nerves; our last encounter was less than amicable, so I can’t deny that seeing him in this setting puts me a little on edge.
“Hi, Lucas. Happy Christmas,” I say.
He hesitates for a second before stepping into the embrace. I catch the familiar scent of citrus and pepper. It’s nostalgic. For a moment it feels as if I’ve travelled back to another time.
The feel and smell of him are still comforting in a small way, like an old song that evokes memories of a time once filled with happiness and love. It’s a part of me that won’t ever disappear—I might revisit it sometimes, but it will never feel quite the same as it did the first time I heard it.
“Merry Christmas, April,” he replies calmly. But I know him well enough to detect a hint of sadness and maybe … resignation?
Someone clears their throat behind us, and I spin on my heels to find James standing there. I freeze, rooted to the spot, my gaze darting between the two brothers. James moves first, exhaling a heavy breath before stepping forward and extending his hand. I watch as Lucas’s jaw tightens, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face, before he gives a small nod and accepts the handshake.
“Lucas,” James says, measured and serious.
“James,” Lucas stiffly replies.
And that’s it.
James places a possessive hand on the small of my back before guiding me towards the kitchen where Caroline’s fussing about with gravy and Peter is carving the chicken.
The kitchen spans the entire rear of the small house. It opens into a cosy glass sunroom where an oakwood dining table sits nestled beside expansive French doors. The doors open out to the backyard, filling the space with natural light. The kitchen itself exudes a charming, well-kept 1990s feel, with dark wooden cabinets and cream laminate countertops. It’s dated but comfortable and welcoming, fitting Caroline and Peter perfectly.
The kitchen counter overflows with beautiful food—crispy roast potatoes cooked in succulent duck fat, a creamy broccoli and cauliflower bake, and perfectly golden, homemade Yorkshire puddings. Roasted Dutch carrots are tossed with fresh coriander, sultanas, and crumbles of goat cheese, alongside a rich chestnut stuffing that fills the air with a delicious nutty aroma.
“This looks fantastic, Caroline. Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer, practically salivating over the spread.
She waves her tea towel in the air dismissively. “Oh no, honey. We’re almost done here. Please”—she gestures to the dining table— “have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. You’ve travelled a long way. Peter can fix you a drink.”
I watch as Peter strolls over to the small wine rack by the fridge, pulling out an unlabelled bottle. Turning to us with a smile, he extends the bottle. “I made some Mourvèdre. Would either of you fancy a glass?”
“Yes, please,” James and I say in unison.
James slings an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close.
Looking out the window, I spot Basil’s carrier—thankfully placed outside—and Basil, happily making himself at home in the garden. He sniffs the plants, then flops down, rolling around in the garden bed.
I catch sight of Lucas gliding by, heading straight for Basil. A soft smile spreads across my face as I watch their little exchange. Basil rolls onto his chubby legs and trots over to Lucas’s outstretched hand, rubbing against him affectionately. I’m happy they’ll still have the chance to see each other, I know how much Lucas loved Basil.
Early dinner is served, and we settle into comfortable conversation, though Lucas remains largely silent. He’s seated directly opposite and is too busy watching James’s hand when he touches me, eyes narrowed and posture tense.
“So, James, what date do you set off on tour?” Peter inquires.
I turn to James, who’s absolutely beaming. Atlas Veil won the audition, landing the opening act for Bound to Oblivion’s European and UK tour. James quit his labouring job immediately. I’m so incredibly proud of and excited for him. He talks animatedly about the cities they’ll visit, the venues, thechance to perform on a massive stage night after night. James’s entire face lights up, and it brings me so much joy and happiness seeing him like this.
