Christmas is coming, and it’s not my year to have him on the day itself. I can’t think about that without tears springing to my eyes, because that’s the part of co-parenting no one teaches you how to do, the part where you accept you will miss whole chunks of life you would have once assumed you were entitled to.
Theo laughs at something I don’t even catch, and it snaps me back into the room. I smile automatically, because that’s what I do.
“Mum!” Theo wriggles free, eyes wide. “Can I get ready now? For trick or treating?”
I blink at him. “Ready? Theo, it’s three-thirty.”
“So?” he says, genuinely offended by my lack of urgency. “It’s Halloween.”
And honestly, he’s not wrong. Oakwood does Halloween properly. No sad pumpkins dumped on doorsteps, no half-hearted bowls of sweets. The whole town commits, cobwebs across hedges, carved pumpkins glowing in windows, inflatable spiders climbing brickwork and parents pretending they don’t enjoy it as much as their children.
I wish I could say I was one of the organised ones. I am not. I’ve left it too late, as usual, so I’ll be doing my emergency costume, all black, cat ears dug out of a drawer, eyeliner repurposed into whiskers and a nose, while Theo, of course, is entirely committed to his football kit, shin pads, socks pulled up ridiculously high because he insists that’s what all football players do.
We’re going as a group this year. Clara and Mark with Ollie and Mabel. Emma and Dan with Oscar, Ruby and Sophie, who Theo has announced, with complete certainty, is the girl he’s going to marry one day. I nod and smile every time he says it. And Lou and Harry with Freddie who is quickly becoming one of Theo’s football rivals.
By the time we step outside, the street is already glowing with pumpkin light and fairy lights, that early autumn dusk settling in quickly, making everything feel slightly magical if you let yourself buy into it.
Clara and Mark arrive first, and I should have expected nothing less. They’ve gone full Addams Family. Clara is Morticia, dramatic and sleek and entirely too pleased with herself. Mark is Gomez, moustache and all, grinning like he’s been handed a role he was born for. Ollie is Pugsley, Mabelis Wednesday, and they’ve even brought a fake disembodied hand for Thing, which Ollie waves at people with unsettling enthusiasm.
Lou and Harry arrive next with Freddie in tow, also dressed head to toe in football gear, much to Theo’s dismay.
Emma and Dan follow shortly after, looking like they assembled their outfits in the five minutes before leaving the house, which makes me love them more. Dan has fake blood at the corner of his mouth and a cape that looks suspiciously like a bedsheet. Emma’s in black with a witch hat, same approach as me. We exchange the kind of look that says accessories do the heavy lifting in this family.
The kids bounce and chatter and pile up at Mrs Carter’s door first, shouting “Trick or treat!” in various pitches, and she beams as she hands out sweets, making each of them feel like she’s been waiting all year for this exact moment.
Then we move on. Next door. Rory’s house. He hasn’t been back long, but he’s already gone all in. Cobwebs stretch across the hedge. A huge spider crouches dramatically in the middle like it’s guarding the place. I stare for a second, surprised and, annoyingly, impressed. The kids don’t hesitate. They sprint down the path, costumes rustling, buckets swinging, and the adults hang back at the end, chatting and waving and ready to call out reminders about manners.
The doorbell rings. Nothing.
They ring again, giggling. Still nothing.
The kids glance at each other, confusion creeping in, and I feel my stomach tighten with that ridiculous anticipatory thing that has no right to exist inside my body anymore. Then I hear it, the soft shuffle from the other side of the door, footsteps, a thud. The handle turns. The door swings open. And Rory Bennett stands there barefoot, towel slung low around his hips, hair dripping, skin still flushed from the shower as he rubs another towelthrough it like this is a completely normal way to answer the door to a crowd of children and half the parents in Oakwood.
I freeze. My eyes are traitors.
There is a very long second where I forget how to behave like an adult woman who should not be staring at a man’s shoulders in the dark like she’s never seen one before.
“Hey!” he says, laughing easily, as if he hasn’t just destabilised half the street. “Sorry. I literally just got back from practice. Had to shower before taking Isla out trick or treating.”
Around me, Clara makes a tiny choking sound, Emma goes statue-still and Lou and Harry both snigger to themselves. I don’t even need to look at Mark to know he’s enjoying himself.
Mark clears his throat. “Mate. You’re putting the rest of us to shame. Maybe go and put it away, yeah?”
Rory laughs, head tipping back, and it is unfair how easy he looks, like he’s not aware of the exact effect he has simply by existing. Then his gaze lands on me. His smile shifts into something smaller. Something that feels like it belongs to a different time.
“Hey, Frey.”
My name in his voice hits in a way I do not appreciate.
“H, hey,” I manage, immediately regretting every life choice that led me to this doorstep. I fix my eyes somewhere in the general region of his elbow because eye contact feels dangerous and I definitely can’t be letting my eyes wander to his torso and that perfect V that disappears under the towel.
Before the silence can turn into something worse, Isla barrels into view in a glittery purple cape, skidding to a stop in the doorway with the energy of a child who has absolutely dressed herself.
“Daddy! Are my friends here?” she squeals, then gasps dramatically. “You all look AMAZING!”
Theo steps forward immediately. “Hey Isla, you should come with us!”
Her eyes go huge. She whips around. “Yes, Daddy, can we?”
