Page 3 of Two Purple Gloves


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So, this year, not only do I feel my normal level of anxiety, but I’m also trying very hard not to fuck up and say something stupid to hurt anyone. I especially don’t want to undo all the work Nel and I have done over the last year to improve our relationship. Not to mention Jake’s family is arriving tomorrow, and his parents can be…hard work.

I don’t know how my wonderful wife does it, she sits on the arm of my chair, long legs crossed, looking a million quid in her cute little Christmas dress and a big smile on her face. She seems so at ease with everything. I’m grateful for her serene energy, although I can’t help but feel there’s something niggling at her recently. She seems distracted and distant and I’m self-aware enough to know that I’m not great at talking about the heavy stuff. I don’t want to make anything worse, but I know I should talk to her. Maybe I should get some advice first. I look between Nel and Lisa’s cousin, Rhiannon, who she grew up with, they’re practically sisters. Rhiannon probably knows Lisa better, Nel knows me better, so who’s best placed to help? Tough one.

“Do you need help with anything?” I ask Lisa, mostly because I feel I should, I know she won’t accept it.

“Nope.” She smiles down at me. “Lasagna is in the oven with the garlic bread and the salad is prepped and in the fridge.”

I shake my head as I smile back at her. “How’d I get so lucky, huh?”

“Must have been a saint in a previous life,” she answers with a smirk and an arch of her brow that I’ve always found sexy as hell.

I lean in and she meets me halfway, bringing our lips together but she pulls back all too quick and I frown. Lis isn’t normally shy of public displays of affection, even in front of her family. A bubble of panic rises in my stomach, telling me I’ve done something wrong. She’s angry at me somehow and I can’t ask her what it is because she’ll expect me to know.Shit.

I look at Jake who is sitting on the floor between Nel’s legs where she sits on the sofa opposite me. Nel is engrossed in conversation with Cami, and Jake is chatting to my eldest, Lucas. Rhiannon’s daughter, Margot is using Jake as a climbing frame.There might be too many people here.

Jake finally looks at me and I send my message through intent staring.Dude, something is up.

His brows knit together.What?

I tilt my head slightly toward my wife.Lisa is mad at me.

His lips pull down at the edges in disbelief.Why?

I widen my eyes and shrug.I don’t know. You have to help me.

He rolls his eyes.You’re an idiot.

I glare.I know, you don’t have to remind me, arsehole.

His eyes flick to the doorway.Meet me in the garage.

I nod once.

Jake says something quietly to Lucas and I see my son nod in agreement. Jake stands, Margot squealing in delight as he roars and holds her to his chest like a beast taking his prey. He hands her off to her father, and kisses Nel on the cheek before taking her empty cocktail glass and heading out of the lounge without a second glance at me. He’s a good friend.

Mary has fallen asleep in my arms, so I tell Lisa that I’m taking her to the kitchen where it’s a bit quieter.

She sucks her cheeks in to temper her smile. “Okay, go have your super-secret besties chat with Jake.” When I just gape at her, like an idiot, she explains. “You two aren’t half as subtle as you think you are.”

I meet Jake in the garage at the drinks bar where he seems to be mixing up a cosmopolitan for my sister. “Okay, what do I do?” I ask him.

“About what?” He doesn’t take his eyes away from the concoction he’s brewing but frowns.

“About Lisa.”

“What about Lisa?” He turns, abandoning his task and looking at me like I’m talking Flemish.

“She’s mad at me,” I tell him out loud.

“Is she? Why?”

I huff in frustration. “Dude, we just had this conversation.”

“Did we? When? Harry, are you okay?” He’s looking intently in my eyes like he’s trying to check if my pupils are blown.

“Just now,” I whisper shout because I don’t want anyone to hear us, nor do I want to wake the ten-month-old now asleep on my shoulder. “We had a telepathic conversation.”

His eyes widen, fully believing I’ve lost my marbles. “That’s not a thing, dude,” he hisses.