Page 47

I grunted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ Then I rolled my eyes. ‘You’re at least third.’ Instantly, my mind flashed to an image of Rupert pumping Penelope doggy style, her tiny tits barely moving with every thrust. I shook my head hard to release the thought. Seriously, ew Harri, stop.

‘Third?’ He sounded offended. ‘Who’s ahead of me?’

I lifted my head. ‘None of your business.’

Before he could argue, a gust of wind ripped my scarf clean off my neck and sent it flying off like it had somewhere better to be.

‘Oh for—’ I lunged for it, caught it mid-air, and nearly took myself out in the process.

‘Here,’ Jamie said, already stepping in.

‘I’ve got it—’ I began.

Too late. He took it anyway, fingers brushing mine, then wrapped it around my neck properly.

His fingers slid into my hair, pushing it back. Then down the ends of the scarf, resting just for a second against my chest.

My heart started battering my ribs like it was trying to escape the situation entirely. Right. Great. OK. That’s my tits, babes, I thought.

His breath hit my face, warm against the cold. I seemed to have forgotten every single word I’d ever known as I tried to think of a way to warn him about the proximity.

‘That’s better,’ he said.

I blinked up at him. ‘I . . . could’ve done that.’

He huffed a laugh. ‘Aye? Looked like you were trying to hang yourself.’

OK, rude. But weirdly accurate.

I managed a small smile and lowered my head. But Jamie’s hand tipped my chin back up before I could look away.

‘Why were you hiding in the kitchen before tonight?’ he said. ‘You’re good with people.’

I genuinely couldn’t think. His hand was still on my face.

Jesus Christ. Why was I acting like this? He was waiting for a reply. Speak, Harri!!

‘I’m not,’ I said quickly – at least it was something. ‘I’m just good at making things. Food, snowflake decorations . . . But when it comes to conversation, I never know what to say to people and they can sense it. They don’t like me.’ I shrugged.

He didn’t laugh or contradict me. Just watched me.

‘The kids loved it,’ he said. ‘They were calmer than I’ve ever seen them. Most of the time they don’t want to be there, but you seemed to brighten that place up tonight.’

I hadn’t expected that to hit me directly in the chest like a brick. I swallowed and stepped back like I needed oxygen. Which I did. Desperately. Why was I so emotional these days? My period must be due, for fuck sake, another inconvenience.

‘Well, I liked it too,’ I said, trying to sound normal and not as if I’d just had a full internal breakdown. ‘Maybe I’m mentally closer in age to the kids than the adults!’ I laughed, a hollow sound.

He folded his arms. ‘So why did you come back?’

What was this – fucking This Is Your Life?

I paused, closing my eyes briefly. But Jamie was staring, not a snigger or a laugh. He was waiting for a response, a real one. I hadn’t spoken to anyone about my dad’s past. Not even Rupert. I never wanted to. I never had to.

‘I found out why my mum does it,’ I said. ‘So I thought I should . . . help. Try, at least.’

Jamie nodded, softer now. ‘Well, I’m glad you did.’

I held his gaze a second too long, brain scrambling for something flirty or sarcastic to say. But nothing came out. Not a single thought.