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‘Want to expand on that?’

Just for a second, Hope was driven to tell him about Carlos but of course it was not her secret to share and to break that confidence would be unthinkable.

‘Life’s not black and white, that’s all I’m saying’ she said vaguely, turning to stare through the window, relieved when she saw Carlos’s house approaching at the end of the wide road.

‘I see the Christmas spirit is in full swing at my brother’s house.’

‘It usually is.’

‘I wouldn’t know. I’m surprised he had the time to go to all this trouble when he’s only just back from whatever bolthole he’s been hiding out in, trying to dodge reality.’

Hope didn’t say anything. Javier had been so relaxed in Mexico but had his attitude towards his brother really changed? Was he capable of seeing more than just one side of the story?

Or was it just a straightforward case of nerves temporarily getting the better of wisdom?

She wanted so badly to ask, to try and soothe his anxiousness away. Love squeezed her heart but one look at his remote expression and she knew, with a sinking heart, that she had already been frozen out.

The thing she had feared was happening. Love had made her weak and vulnerable. She’d watched her mother as she was carried away on tides of misplaced emotion and there she was, battling those very same tides, helpless against currents that were too powerful for her to navigate.

‘We don’t know, either of us, when he returned to London. Yesterday? The day before? Maybe he’s been in London all along, just not at his house.’

Carlos’s house was a modern masterpiece. It wasn’t enormous but it was exquisite—a blend of stone and glass, oozing tasteful opulence but cutting-edge enough to hint at its owner’s personality. Carlos’s signature oversized inflatable Santa was in its usual spot, peeping over the brick wall that separated his neat front lawn from the grassy slope that led down to the pavement. Disconcerted neighbours had stopped bothering to lodge complaints.

The car pulled up in front of the house. The windows were brightly lit and there was an enormous festive wreath hanging on the front door.

They got out and walked to the door. Just as Hope was turning to Javier, one last plea to access that part of him that was slowly dissipating in front of her very eyes, the front door was opened and there he was. Carlos…

Hope saw the stubborn defiance on his face, the angry awe at the sight of his much older brother, the posturing of someone braced for a fight. She felt a surge of pure sympathy for her friend.

‘Carlos!’

She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She could feel his trembling nerves as he burrowed against her for a few seconds, hiding from Javier’s coolly penetrating stare. ‘You’ve dyed your hair!’

She ruffled his hair. It was now a bleached blonde.

‘Javier,’ Carlos acknowledged, as he pulled back from Hope. The two brothers stared at one another.

‘It’s too cold to stand out here having a conversation,’ Hope said brightly, half pushing Carlos inside, her back to Javier. ‘Wow! Carlos, you’ve gone all out this year with the decorations.’

She was jabbering. She’d put some distance between herself and Javier in an effort not to rouse Carlos’s suspicions. ‘It even smells of Christmas! How do you do that? I try every year at Mum’s and nothing works.’

‘We’ve been searching for you, Carlos,’ Javier said coolly from behind her. ‘From the look of all the work that’s gone into your house, it seems we’ve been on a wild goose chase.’

‘I’ve been here for a few days. Is that allowed, big brother? You’re here now and I suppose that yet again you’re going to start lecturing me on everything I’m doing wrong in my life.’

Hope felt tears well up as she stood back and looked at the brothers, still with such solid walls between them.

Javier met her eyes and he sighed.

* * *

‘Have you told him?’ Carlos suddenly asked her. He drew in a deep, long, steadying breath, looking as though he was girding his loins for the battle of a lifetime.

‘Told me what?’ Javier barked.

* * *

Then he looked at her with freezing dark eyes and she knew that whatever else he might have felt for her, never love but maybe affection and respect, had dried up and curdled just like that. In his dark, level gaze she could read scathing judgement.