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“Oh?” Mel realizes she’s raising her eyebrows in surprise and stops herself. Why should she be surprised? Kristen is smart, capable, seems to have her shit together. Of course she’d had a successful career.

“I didn’t love it, which is why I gave it up to look after Freya—that, and me and Mark agreed that one of us should be around for the early years. I wanted to do it. But I…” She swallows. “I was going to look again at jobs—try to figure out if there are any that could be flexible, to allow me to work from home a bit, be there for the school run. Mark remembers Susan always being there for him, and I know it’s important to him that his child has the same. But now…” She presses a hand to her stomach. “I can’t apply for a job when I’m pregnant. I can’t lie about it. And no one will hire me knowing I’m about to go on maternity leave. It just…This changes things, and I guess I wanted time to process that first. I know I should tell him. I do. But I…”

Mel shakes her head, takes Kristen’s hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.” And she doesn’t know the ins and outs of their relationship, does she? She can’t really imagine being pregnant, having children—it all feels like a distant possibility at the moment. “Of course you should take the time. It’s not my business, anyway.”

Kristen squeezes Mel’s hand. “It’s your business if you want it to be. I like having someone to talk to about it.”

Mel returns Kristen’s smile, though her insides squirm. Guilt, she realizes—that’s guilt she’s feeling. For not taking the time to talk to Kristen about stuff like this before. And guilt that she’s probably not going to be around much longer to talk to her again. She frowns, catching herself. Probably? She means definitely. Doesn’t she?

“Oi!” Finn shouts from the rink. “Come on, you two—we’re waiting to curl!”

“Is that how you say it?” Mel hears Hattie ask. “To curl?”

Mel moves away from Kristen, walking awkwardly on her skates toward the rest of them.

“Mel?” Mel turns back to see Kristen biting her lip, glancing out at the family. Then she shakes her head. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Mel frowns. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Kristen repeats. She comes up next to Mel, smiles again. Surely Mel is imagining the flicker in that smile? “I’m glad you and Finn are back together,” Kristen says. “That’s all.”

“Are you?” She can’t help the question coming out.

“Of course. You’re good together. Mark used to tease him, you know. Tell him he wasn’t the settling-down type. He didn’t mean anything by it, but I think it got to Finn more than Mark realized.” And it’s what Finn had believed, isn’t it—that he was like his dad. She’d thought he’d moved past that—but maybe he hadn’t, not really.

“Come on,” Mel says, glad for the excuse not to continue down this line of conversation. “Let’s go show them what we’ve got.”

Chapter Twenty-two

The curling competition is total chaos. Thankfully, they have the ice rink to themselves—a luxury Mel imagines took some serious foresight on Susan’s part—which means that they’re not in danger of hurting anyone else in the process, only themselves. It is early afternoon, and although the sky is a rather ominous gray, hints of late orange sunlight peek through, reflecting off the icy water of the loch below them. With the fairy lights strung up around the outside of the ice rink, the effect is slightly ethereal—embodying that almost mystical quality that Christmas morning has when you are a kid.

Though the magical feel is somewhat hampered by the sound of Muscle Mike’s whistle.

“Whoop!” Hattie says, holding up her broom triumphantly. “Score!” She attempts to do a pirouette, stumbles, and would have fallen flat on her face if it weren’t for Dylan skating over to her in time to catch her. He is the only one of them who glides with purpose, as if he’s had endless practice at this.

“You should do Dancing on Ice,” Mel calls to him. He shoots her a grin over the top of Hattie’s head.

“Actually,” Mike says, “that’s not a point. The stone isn’t within the house, unfortunately.”

“Oh, we can let her have it,” Susan says with a wave of her hand. Mike looks at her, and the expression of incredulity on his face is enough so that Mel has to resist the urge to burst out laughing.

“Mel!” Hattie complains. “You told me to sweep!”

“Bad form, Skip,” Finn says teasingly, skating over to her. He’s not as good as Dylan, but has still picked it up annoyingly quickly. She doesn’t look nearly as graceful—she’s sure of it.

“Hey, you guys put me in charge—I didn’t ask for it.” As “Skip,” she is, according to Mike, in charge of “directing play and strategizing”—but, seeing as how she has no idea what’s going on, she’s doing a pretty poor job of it.

Freya is up next, and Mark supports her elbows while she attempts to sweep in front of the stone. Both Kristen and Susan watch with almost identical grimaces, like they are just waiting for this to go wrong and for Freya to get hurt.

“Score!” Hattie shouts again when Freya finishes her go, showing as much enthusiasm as for her own near goal.

“High five, kid,” Mark says, holding up his hand for Freya to hit. She manages to do it without stumbling—actually, Freya is quite possibly getting the hang of this much quicker than the rest of them.

“Ah, actually—” Mike begins, but Susan cuts him off with a stern look. “I’ll allow it,” Mike concedes.

Finn gets really into the sweeping on his next go, so much so that he only just manages to stop falling over, and when the stone makes it into the “house,” Mike actually looks pleased when he blows his whistle—this time to announce a point.

“Woo-hoo!” Hattie shouts as Finn skates back over to their team, grinning. Dylan high-fives him, Hattie pats him on the back. Finn moves past them, pulls Mel into a celebratory hug. It’s for show in front of the family, no doubt, but she can’t help noticing the way her body fits against his, the way her head knows the exact right spot to nestle after years of practice. His arms tighten around her and for a moment it is just them, the warmth of his breath against her neck as they sway on the ice.