“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.”
“My boyfriend.”
His grin widens. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I like the sound of that.
Chapter fifty-five
Rory
Sneaking out of Freya’s house at night feels slightly ridiculous for a man in his thirties. But also… weirdly thrilling. I pull her front door closed as quietly as possible and pause for a second on the doorstep, listening. The cul-de-sac is silent except for the distant hum of a car somewhere on the main road. Good. No witnesses. No curious neighbours. No Oakwood mums watching from behind their curtains ready to start a group chat investigation.
I walk across to my house with what I hope is a casual level of normality, but my brain is still buzzing. Freya Collins is my girlfriend.My girlfriend.I actually grin like an idiot halfway up the path. It’s ridiculous how happy that sentence makes me. I push the front door open quietly and step inside. The house is dim except for the soft glow coming from the living room. And immediately I know I’m in trouble.
“Mum,” I say slowly.
She’s sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea, glasses perched halfway down her nose as she looks up from whatever she was reading.
“Evening,” she says calmly.
I glance at the clock. Ten thirty.
“Why are you still awake?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Why are you sneaking into your own house?”
“I wasn’t sneaking.”
“You absolutely were.”
I shrug, toeing my trainers off by the door. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Mm.”
Thatmmcarries about thirty years of maternal suspicion. She gestures toward the armchair. “Come in here a minute.”
Right. This is happening. I walk into the living room and drop into the chair opposite her. “What have I done? Aren’t we passed you telling me off for coming in late?” I laugh awkwardly, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.
She studies me over the rim of her mug. “Nothing.” She smiles slightly. “I just wanted to ask how Freya is.”
I freeze. “…Freya?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know I was with Freya?”
She gives me a look. “Rory.”
“What?”
“You’ve been smiling at your phone like a teenager for three days.”
Fair.
“And,” she continues, “I’m not an idiot.”
I sigh. “You always know everything.”
