I watched them go, standing in an awkward spot on the edge of the pavement, so I was jostled by people moving past me. The little teeth in the headband of the reindeer antlers dug into my cold hands and I willed the pain to keep the tears at bay. My toes were going numb, the hog-roast sandwich sat like a lead weight in my stomach and I wished I could just go home but I’d promised to watch my former student play, so I had to stay for a little bit. They were nearly ready to begin their set and some people were gathering in a semicircle at a distance from the stage.
I wasn’t really seeing, just scanning the crowd, wondering how to keep myself busy while I waited, when my gaze snagged on someone familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Nick Cartwright. He was standing on his own just like me, on the other side of the road, watching the festivities but not actually part of them. It would’ve been easy for me to avoid him, just slip into the crowd and disappear, since he wasn’t a member of my fan club either, and yet… I couldn’t quite manage to take my eyes off him.
He was wearing a tailored charcoal coat much more suitable for the weather than his leather jacket from yesterday. But it was old, rumpled, a touch faded; it looked supremely comfortable and warm. He had the collar lifted so it cut a line across his neck and jaw – and between that and the glasses and windswept hair, he looked like…like a noir film poster or something: poetic and sensitive and handsome and also kind of…bruised.
He turned his head, as though he felt me watching him and his gaze landed on me like a spotlight.
I waved and began making my way over to him before I’d really thought it through. He may have been acting like I was an anonymous member of staff earlier, showing that same arrogance as his brother, but I could be the bigger person. Maybe what Stephen had told me about them losing their mum this year was making me read more into it than I should have, but irrespective of whether he was feeling sad at that precise moment or not, it wouldn’t hurt to be a friendly face in a crowd of strangers.
‘Hi.’ I joined him near the inset doorway to the greengrocer’s.
‘Hi. Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, sure.’ I blinked at his soft tone and frowned. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
He lifted his shoulders, hands still in his pockets. ‘You looked sad…and you’re supposed to be out with Stephen. His dates don’t usually end so early in the evening. I didn’t expect to see you until the morning.’
My eyebrows rose up to meet my hairline. ‘Is that a fact now?’
‘Uh, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just meant at breakfast. At the hotel. Because you work there. Not because it was inevitable you were going to spend the night with him. Which is completely your choice obviously.’ He groaned and scrubbed his hand back into his hair, giving it an admonishing tug.
‘Areyouokay, Nick?’ I laughed. This was a completely different side to him. He was still being tactless but without the grumpiness, which I could now acknowledge probably stemmed from extenuating circumstances. Without that edge, it was almost sweet, rather than annoying.
‘Yeah…’ He blew out a breath when he realised I wasn’t offended and released his hair. If he spent all his time tugging at it like that no wonder it was such a mess. ‘I’m not the charming brother obviously.’
I stopped laughing but my smile stayed. ‘Charm is sometimes overrated. I find myself warming to the idea of awkward honesty lately.’
His vivid blue gaze caught mine and held for a long moment. My breathing stilled until he tore his eyes away to look down at his feet. Clearly it was my turn to drop the clangers again – what had I just unintentionally implied? And had he picked up on it?
He cleared his throat and looked back at me. ‘How did it go then?’
‘Maybe you should ask Stephen about that.’
‘There’s two sides to every story.’
‘There’s no real story though. He was fine, a perfect gent…’ I pressed my lips together and grabbed the zipper at the top of my jacket, tugging on it, before I elaborated. My own hesitation annoyed me. There was no reasonnotto tell him. It was the truth and Stephen was likely to fill him in anyway. ‘I shouldn’t have gone on the date in the first place. I just got out of a long-term relationship. I’m not ready to unleash myself on the dating world yet,’ I added lightly.
His eyes studied my face and a hint of a smile crooked up at the corner. But rather than asking why I’d said yes, as his brother had, he just nodded and said, ‘Fair enough.’
A group of middle-aged women came down the road, arms linked and laughing, their cheeks rosy, and we both stepped back, inadvertently moving into the seclusion of the doorway. We were only inches apart and I could feel myself swaying towards him. That coat really did look snuggly and inviting.
‘I left him at the Rose and Crown with a bottle of very nice whisky, if you wanted to find him,’ I volunteered, trying to get my mind back on the conversation.
‘We had dinner earlier – I think we’ve spent enough time together for one day. He’ll text me if he wants company.’
‘D’you not get on very well?’ I couldn’t help asking – having none myself, I had an unhealthy fascination with sibling relationships.
‘We do. Normally. There are just a couple of things we’re disagreeing on at the moment. And we haven’t seen each other much recently.’ His frown was deep, making a crease between his eyebrows like a shadow from the bridge of his glasses. ‘I’m away a lot and this year’s been…tricky.’
This could have been the point where I offered my condolences about his mum but the fact that he’d purposefully avoided saying it made me hold my tongue. What I actually wanted to do was lift him out of his worry. I wanted to see him smile; a full-on, open, happy smile.
‘Look at us, we’re actually having a semi-ordinary conversation. Have we declared peace now?’
‘Did I miss the bit when we were at war?’ He tilted his head and his mouth crept up again at the corners, but it wasn’t a proper smile – not yet.
‘Maybe. You did say you were jet-lagged but you must remember the incident with the angel. You were pretty miffed.’
‘Yeah, sorry about that.’ A hint of a blush touched his cheeks again. I’d always thought of cuteness being the opposite of hotness but with every hint of vulnerable sweetness Nick revealed I found my opinion changing. ‘I was going to tell Stephen but just thinking about it made me realise what a petty moron I was being.’ He nodded with sudden, definitive strength. ‘So, I guess the answer’s yes. If you’re prepared to forgive me, it’s a truce.’
