Luc doesn’t drop my hand.
My belly grumbles with nerves and I suck my lips into my mouth. Luc squeezes my hand. ‘What’s up?’ he asks.
‘I am so insanely nervous to see your family again even though I’m not…’ I trail off. There are ears everywhere which could be listening.
I never met most of Luc’s family the first time we were dating, only his mum whom I haven’t seen since our first break-up. But they must hate me for how I treated him. For how I’ve thrown him back into the spotlight now.
His hand grows clammy in my grasp. I wish we’d had a private moment to talk about the rule we broke. The rule that went out the window four weeks ago. About the fact that I’ve not stopped thinking about him. About how fire crackled beneath my skin whenever my phone lit up with a message from him.
Old habits are dyingveryhard. My heart needs to catch up with the platonic dynamic between us.
The two bodyguards in front of us walk in plain clothes, given orders by Dennis behind us through an earpiece. I watch the way they walk with such precision, coming together to not let anyone through the middle without so much as a glance at each other.
We fall back into silence, and I eye everyone who looks in my direction. I flinch if they start to walk towards me, but they always get blocked by the bodyguards in front.
We join the queue of people waiting to get their bags checked.
‘What do I need to know about your family?’ I question.
‘There’s not much to know, really. You already know about the terraced house just outside south London.’
I raise my eyebrows at him, silently communicating there’s nothing I don’t want to know about his family.
‘Kealan is ten years younger than me,’ Luc explains. ‘An absolute nightmare when I was living at home, but I think he’s alright now he’s a bit older.’ He drops my hand and takes a sip from the near-empty bottle of water and then offers it to me. I turn him down. ‘He ended up getting into the Chelsea Football Academy and his teachers were thrilled to say goodbye to the menace one-day-a-week so he could train.’ Luc pauses once again to drain the rest of the bottle. ‘He can’t play at the minute, though – tore his Achilles.’
Luc drapes an arm over my shoulder, pressing a kiss against my temple. ‘You sound very different,’ I say.
‘You’re right. I was always reading quietly in a corner, and he was in the garden screaming and kicking around a ball, or on his Xbox screaming and kicking around a ball.’
I spot a girl in her twenties walking towards us, her eyes locked on mine. Her boyfriend is encouraging her to walk closer to me. ‘Go on,’ I hear him say.
‘Hi, Sienna,’ she says as she gets close enough.
Dennis steps closer to me. ‘Sorry, ma’am. Not now.’
‘I’ll never get used to the feeling of thinking I shouldknow someone’s name because they so confidently know mine,’ I whisper to Luc, and he squeezes my hand in return.
A worker pokes around our bags. ‘You could’ve used VIP, Miss,’ the open-mouthed security attendant gasps. He frantically looks at our tickets and compares it to the arrows pointing to different zones.
‘That’s okay,’ I reply, and turn back to Luc. ‘What about Lydia? Did you say she was married to Leia, the girl in the photo?’
Luc visibly winces remembering the gossip column. ‘Yeah. They got married last year – they’re both therapists, so you can imagine how that is. They’regreatat communication.’ Luc beams. ‘Leia feels like she’s been a part of our family as long as Lydia has. She’s great.’
‘That’s so lovely. How did they meet?’
‘They were best friends at secondary school but realised when they went to separate unis that they’d been in love with each other the entire time.’
‘What a beautiful story.’
We scan our tickets in the turnstiles and push ourselves through before standing on the narrow escalator in single file, my body pressed against him.
‘My dad still doesn’t say much,’ Luc mumbles. ‘To anyone – so I feel like I don’t really know him, even now.’ Luc swallows and his throat bobs with the effort it takes. ‘He follows my mum around and does whatever she wants him to do. I don’t think it was always that way, like you know, my mum isn’t pushy or anything. Never has been.’ He shakes his head. ‘I think he’s just quiet and doesn’t really have his own mind. He’s of the generation that thinks “happy wife, happy life” is the motto they have to live by.’
‘You mean… you don’t live by that motto?’ A laugh pulls at my lips, but I try to keep a straight face. ‘Luc, that’s appalling.’
As we get closer, Luc heads towards his mum and sister already in their seats.
‘Luc, your sister looks so much like you.’
