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He caught me off guard. For a second, all the noise from the hall blurred into the background – the clatter of trays, the scrape of chairs, people laughing somewhere deeper in the kitchen. Because he might actually be right.

A car horn beeped from outside. Relief cut through me.

‘Finally,’ I muttered, already stepping to the door.

‘You’re not staying to feed the troops?’ Jamie asked, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

‘Absolutely not.’

He nodded once, then added, ‘Fair. You’d have been terrible at it.’

I stopped, hand on the door. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Too impatient,’ he said, deadpan. ‘And Ina’s got the reputation of being the bitchy one, cannae be stealing her title.’

I laughed before I could stop myself, then shook my head and pulled the door open, a now-familiar blast of freezing air hitting my face. As I jogged towards my dad’s car, noticing the line of people snaking around the building to get in, I felt Jamie watching me – not in a creepy way. In a I’m-clocking-you way.

I flopped into the passenger seat.

‘Hi,’ I muttered.

‘Good day?’ Dad asked, lifting a bright green matcha from the cup holder. He winked. ‘Don’t tell your mother. Fucking fortune, that was.’

Despite myself, I smiled. Even though it was past four and my caffeine window had technically closed, I was deeply, profoundly grateful.

‘Thanks, Dad.’

I glanced back towards the community centre.

Jamie was still standing there, tinsel crooked, watching the car pull away. When he caught my eye, he lifted a hand in a lazy half-wave, like he already knew he’d see me again.

Chapter Nine

As Dad and I pulled up outside the house and walked up the path, I clocked the neighbours’ blinds twitching. I barely had time to roll my eyes before the door flew open and Sharon burst out like she’d been fired from a cannon.

‘That’s not our wee Harri, is it?’ she shouted, her voice ricocheting down the street.

I forced a smile as she practically sprinted to the fence, arms flung wide like she was auditioning for a hug I absolutely had not agreed to.

‘God, you haven’t changed one bit,’ I said, instantly recognising the same round face with the same rosy cheeks, the same clothes, the same strong-smelling perfume.

‘Do you not think I’m a bit thinner round the waist?’ she asked, holding her hands to her face and whispering, ‘I’m on the Mounjaro!’

‘Aye, and it’s no fucking working!’ my dad called back.

Sharon tutted, noticing my dad, then brushed him off. ‘Cheeky bugger! Well, sweetheart – what brings you hame?’

Dad stomped past us without breaking stride. ‘Awk, you know why she’s back, Sharon. Stop being so fucking nosy.’

Sharon clutched at her chest in mock offence. ‘Well! I must admit – I saw the video, sweetheart. Dirty scoundrels, the pair of them.’ She dropped her voice dramatically and leaned in. ‘How are you holding up?’

I tilted my head, trying to work out a socially acceptable response to public humiliation.

Before I could answer, Sharon ploughed on. ‘What’s Rupey saying to it? Don’t tell me he loves that wee cow,’ she added, one hand planted on her hip, settling in like this was going to be a three-course conversation.

‘Tell her fuck all, Harri!’ my dad roared from inside the house. ‘She’ll have it in the Gorbals Local by lunchtime!’

‘I will not!’ Sharon snapped back. ‘I wouldn’t tell a soul, Harri. But what did he say, darlin’? Was he sorry? I bet he’s greetin’, hen. They always regret the bit on the side!’