I walk into the living room and mum engulfs me in the biggest hug as if she didn’t see me just twenty minutes ago. But even here, in the warmest, most loving place I know, there’s a restless feeling under my skin. I still haven’t found a place for me and Isla. I’ve looked. Flats, little houses, big houses, new builds. None of them feel right. None of them feel like… this. But I can’t stay forever. Nanna and Pops deserve their quiet back eventually.
“So,” Mum says, dishing up bacon sarnies, “what’s Freya doing for Christmas this year? We heard she and Theo were on their own last year.”
I hesitate. “Theo’s with his dad this year. So… she’ll be on her own.”
Mum and Dad exchange a look.
“Well that won’t do,” Dad says firmly.
“You’ll invite her,” Mum adds, like it’s already decided.
“I already did. She said no.” I say bluntly.
Mum gives me a look. “No…?”
“She said it wouldn’t be right to be celebrating without Theo.”
“Fair enough.” She says before taking a bite of her sandwich. “But when Theo’s back we should throw another shindig. Doesn’t have to be a Christmas day. More like a ‘Frory’ day”.
Frory. Freya and Rory. It’s what we were always known as in Oakwood since we always came as a pair. And despite everything, the mess between us, the regret, the ache in my chest, I find myself smiling. Because the thought of Freya at this table feels… right. Not just nice. Not just convenient. Right in that deep, settled way that makes your bones feel heavier and your breathing slow down. Freya has always felt like home to me, even when I was too stupid to stay close to it. I can picture it so clearly it almost hurts. Her laugh mixing with Mum’s in the kitchen, Dad pretending not to tear up at something sentimental, Isla and Theo playing sweetly on the rug in front of the fire.
I imagine her in one of those soft, festive dresses she wears; something dark green or deep red, hugging her in that way that makes my heart do back-flips while still looking completely wholesome. Hair loose, cheeks flushed from the cold, rolling her eyes at one of Dad’s terrible jokes. I want that. At least, I think I do. And maybe she does too. But without that certainty, I don’t want to risk losing her completely. I’ve hurt her by leaving her once before, I can’t lose her again. I would rather have her in my life as a friend than not at all. But I can’t help but feel like I’ve fucked it all up. And now, I don’t have a single clue what the right move is.
Chapter twenty-five
freya.
I’m angry. At Rory. At myself. At the universe for taking a perfectly good boy and turning him into someone who thought shiny city lights were more important than the girl who would’ve loved him through the dark. I’m angry at Sienna, which is unfair because she didn’t know me, didn’t steal him in some dramatic showdown. But she still got the version of him that stayed. The public one. The chosen one. I’m angry at everyone who got the life that might have been mine. And underneath all of that? This awful, hollow ache.
I blow out a breath and grab my phone. It’s girls’ night. Thank God.
Tequila, Tequila ??
Hannah:OUTFIT CHECK. Leather trousers or black mini??
Emma:Mini. Always mini. It’s Christmas, not a staff meeting.
Clara:I need tequila. PRONTO. The kids have been arseholes today.
AbigailI’m wearing the red dress. Thedangerone.
Lou:Oh we are DRESSING dressing tonight ??
Freya:I was thinking jeans and a nice top.
Hannah:BOOOO. You have revenge-body energy right now, use it.
Emma:Girls, Eleanor’s coming too, hope that’s okay? Felt bad after the split. She needs a fun night.
Clara:The more the merrier. Although is she not going to be deeply offended by how we all behave on tequila? She seems much more proper than us. Also more witnesses to Freya’s love sick puppy dog eyes.
Freya:I am not love sick.
Lou:WAIT! What did I miss?
Clara:That man looks at you like you’re the tastiest slice of pizza
Hannah:I have SEEN the way he watches you. It’s borderline feral.
