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Nico got up. “How did you get down here from work?”

Sam turned toward the doorway. “I got a lift off Maya.”

“Maya Bashir? I didn’t know she was in town. Back a little early for Christmas, isn’t she?”

Sam grasped the door handle and turned to face Nico. “She’s back for a while. Lost her job. Now she’s helping Ben out for a bit by covering Vicky’s classes.”

Nico nudged his arm. “Good news for you. Those classes were doing your head in.”

Sam smiled. The person taking the classes was now also doing his head in.

He hadn’t told Nico about what’d happened with Maya in the past. Nor anyone else for that matter, except for their other best friend, Arran. Sam had kept their involvement on the down low in case anything had gotten back to Maya’s dad before they were ready to tell him. And then, after it ended, there seemed little point in talking about it. Mainly because it hurt too much, but also due to him being with Cat.

Arran had known that Sam liked Maya, being from the same class at school, unlike Nico, who’d been a couple of years ahead, and away at law school by then. Sam had confided in Arran regarding their couple of trysts, and then how it’d ended.

Sam had had an inkling that her being from a doctor’s family who lived in a big house could be an issue, when he was from a single-parent broken home and had no intention of going off to university and leaving his mum and sister on their own. And maybe if Cat hadn’t kept reminding him of his inadequacy by criticizing that choice, he might’ve gotten over it by now.

Nico rubbed his chin. “I always felt a bit of an affinity with the Bashir girls, us both having Middle Eastern dads. Same pressure to be professional.”

Something niggled at the back of Sam’s mind—the way in which Maya had sounded empathetic to Nico’s issues with his parents’ disapproval. But Maya had been as keen as they had to have a real job in accountancy. That was the difference.

Sam nodded, eager to end the conversation because he was becoming more confused where Maya was concerned. “I’ll see you later in the week.” He opened the door and waved to Nico as he left the gym.

Pulling his coat around him and zipping it, Sam struck out for home. He loved walking the streets at this time of year. The cold was bracing, and it was an excellent excuse to look at all the Christmas lights.

There were a few more up tonight, and he took in each house along the route, mentally scoring them as if he were the judge of the Christmas lights competition. When he neared home, he paused to admire his favorite. It had lights dripping from every window and dangling from the gutters. There was an inflatable Santa on the roof, complete with sleigh and a full complement of reindeer. Each bush and tree in the front garden was draped in lights from every color of the rainbow, and there was a huge LED Christmas tree on the front lawn, surrounded by inflatable penguins. Sam smiled. If he had his way, they’d win the competition, not the big, posh, perfect-looking house with no character. This place was fun and festive, rather than being all about the aesthetics. And to him, that embodied the spirit of Christmas.

Turning to head down the street, he completed his journey home. As he reached the doorstep and took out his keys, he checked the time and realized it was later than he’d thought. He’d texted Cat and let her know he was going to the gym and to sort herself out for dinner rather than waiting for him, but that wouldn’t matter with Cat. She’d still be annoyed.

With a sinking feeling, he opened the door, expecting to be greeted by stony silence. He removed his outerwear, walking along the small hallway into the kitchen, where he could hear her moving around. A delicious, tomatoey-oregano smell greeted him.

“Hi,” Cat said brightly, coming over and giving him a kiss. She went back to the oven and opened it.

Sam hesitated. He hadn’t expected this scenario, but it was a welcome one. “Have you made lasagna? It smells awesome.”

“Yeah, I know it’s your favorite,” she said, closing the oven door. “Not as good as the authentic one that Nico’s mum makes, but it’ll do. I’m afraid I don’t have the Italian genes.”

Sam grabbed them some plates and set the table, warmth infusing his soul. “It’ll more than do. I love your version and I’m starving.”

Cat smiled as Sam dished it up for them. She fetched them a couple of glasses and poured some wine, then sat across from him as they tucked in.

“Mm,” Sam said, tension drifting from his shoulders. “This is amazing, thank you.”

She sipped her drink. “You’re welcome.” She paused, placing her glass back down. “How was work?”

Sam frowned. Cat didn’t normally ask him how work was. She said that skiing was boring and cold. “Fine, thanks. I was glad not to have to take the kids’ class this afternoon. It’s been difficult to get back in time from my advanced lesson ready for it starting.”

“Oh yeah?” she said, not seeming to be listening. “And did you survive your lifts with Maya?”

Sam hesitated, his pulse picking up. “It was okay. We didn’t say much.”

Cat nodded. “Remember how she used to criticize working at the ski resort and say it wasn’t a real job, despite working there herself?” Cat shook her head. “And now she’s back there again. Still a hypocrite.”

Sam nodded, taking another forkful of his food and choosing to stay silent.

Chapter

Seven