Page 88
‘Alison, Will! Have you met before?’
CHAPTER 38
ROCCO
Rocco brushed the powdery layer of snow off the bags of ice before carrying them back into the barn along with the bottles of wine he’d jammed under his arms, trying to ignore how cold they were against the fabric of his new shirt. He stomped his boots free of loose snow on the top step then wiped his feet on Frankie’s welcome mat as he didn’t want to leave slushy footprints all over her flooring. Judging by the state of the beautiful walnut wood, not everyone had been so mindful.
He closed the door and made his way to the kitchen table, popping the bottles next to the open ones before decanting the ice into the special silver bucket he’d brought from his own place. Once done, Rocco placed the little silver ice tongs on the top.
He then poured himself a large glass of the Amarone which he’d tucked out of the way behind the more crowd-pleasing Chilean Cabernets, Australian Shiraz and a massive bottle of Lambrini someone had brought with them.
Rocco surveyed the room, risking a look at Jay on the other side. And really looked. Over the years Rocco had blown Jay up in his mind to be the monster. The person who’d wrecked Rocco’s life and dreams and who was also hell-bent on ruining Frankie’s life. But now, in the same room as his nemesis, Rocco could see Jay was none of these things. Rocco knew now he’d been fuelled by hurt and had acted like a selfish, spoilt brat because he felt abandoned by his best friend.
Rocco swallowed down a lump in his throat. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered into the air.
Aware of being watched, Jay turned and glanced in Rocco’s direction.
Both men stared at each other for a long beat, until the bassist guy, Simon went over to Jay and started talking to him.
And then Jay was off, squeezing through the crowd which had gotten merrier and rowdier. Someone had swapped the Christmas music with Drive With Care’s first album. Which was really rather fucking brilliant.
Rocco knew he needed to make things right.
He wanted, no, he needed, to apologise to Jay. Looking back through the music notebook in his spare room, Rocco realised Jay had been right. Rocco wasn’t a natural lyricist or guitar player. The genius had all been from Jay and for a little while Rocco had ridden on those coat-tails. Rocco had been the one to insist on playing lead guitar and vocals, leaving Jay with the bass and backing vocals, despite Rocco’s voice being nowhere near as good as Jay’s. Rocco had acted spoilt and entitled and Jay had gone along with it because Jay was nice and chilled and laid-back and kind. In fact, Jay was exactly like Frankie in that respect.
Oh God. Rocco could see now that Jay and Frankie were absolutely perfect for each other; and always had been. But Rocco had ruined that.
And Rocco didn’t deserve either of them.
Rocco also needed to tell Frankie everything, not out of fear of Jay telling her first, but because Rocco owed his sister a huge apology and needed her to know what had happened twelve years ago was his fault, not Jay’s.
He also needed to find Alison. Rocco looked around and saw her talking to Will.
Damn!
Hoping they’d soon tire of their conversation, Rocco kept an eye on them as he did a quick tidy of the table, recycling the empty wine and beer bottles and boxing up some of the discarded glasses. After a few minutes everything looked far neater but Alison was still chatting to Will. She was even laughing at something he said. What the hell? Will was not a funny man.
Right, Rocco was going to go and join them. All was fair in love and Canine Cupids Christmas Club dating evenings. He could see Alison was drinking red wine and the level in her glass was getting low. Rocco fished out the Amarone from its hiding place, ready to head over.
But then he stopped. Why did he think he was better than Will? Because he had fancy red wine, a new shirt and expensive aftershave? Everything was superficial. To make up for what you lack in personality, a little voice mocked.
What gave Rocco the right to interrupt Alison and Will when they were clearly enjoying each other’s company.
Rocco turned and put the wine bottle back on the table, but not hidden away this time.
He then went over to the coat stand and retrieved his coat, ready to slip away. He was just closing the door behind him when he gave a slight start.
What the hell was a giant felt Christmas tree doing shuffling around the periphery of the barn, heading toward the boot room, carrying a plate of canapés?
CHAPTER 39
FRANKIE
Frankie was aware she’d been working the barn in the same way she did when doing a shift at the trattoria. She kept an eye on everything and everyone as she walked around, firing off little niceties and greetings as she went, pausing to talk a little longer with some, but never long enough to invade anyone’s space. She topped up drinks that were getting low, steered people toward others and seemed instinctively to know when to intervene if a couple weren’t hitting it off, moving one of them on to another group of people. By midnight Frankie was quite exhausted. Although a few people had left, including her brother it seemed, the temperature and noise level continued to soar and Frankie was desperate for five minutes of peace.
The first moment she could escape, Frankie slipped out through the door, and round the side of the barn, triggering the security light to go on.
She leant her shoulder against the wall of the barn, sheltered slightly from the snowfall by the overhanging roof.
