Page 88 of The Invitation

I scold myself and reach for his hand on the gearstick. “Tell me about ‘Hey Jude.’”

He smiles mildly, looking away briefly, taking in air. Or taking in strength to talk about it. “It was my parents’ favourite song.”

“So they named you after the Beatles song?” How romantic.

“Yeah.” He smiles across at me. “Are we going deep again?”

I laugh under my breath. I’m not sure if we can go much deeper. I’m about to set his phone in the holder attached to the blower by the steering wheel but falter when a WhatsApp notification drops down from the top of the screen.

Katherine? The woman in the restaurant? There’s only a small preview of the message, and I know I should slam my eyes closed, not read it, but it’s right there in front of me.

How can you. . .

The message slides back up.God damn it.How can he ... what? I quickly put the phone in the holder and rest back, my mind reeling. Why would she message Jude? According to him, she and her husband are members of the spa and golf club and eat occasionally at Arlington Hall.

“Okay?” Jude asks.

“Sure.” I turn a smile his way, but it’s an effort, suddenly endless doubts creeping in. His phone dings again, another message sliding down. Jude’s quick to clear the screen. Then another comes in. Then another. And another. “Someone has a lot to say.” I look at him and seriously don’t like the awkward vibes he’s giving off.

“It’s no one,” he says shortly, irritated.

No one.

Okay.

And suddenly things aren’t so natural and easy. Am I overthinking? Is he being off? What did she want? Why didn’t he just tell me who it is if it’s nothing?

Oh my God.

Am I obsessing?

I sink farther into the seat and scrape through my mind for something to say. Something to break the growing, unbearable silence. I have nothing, and judging by Jude’s lack of conversation, I’m guessing he’s feeling the sudden tension too.

It remains the entire way to my parents’ house, only the music breaking the screaming quiet in the car.

When Jude turns into the cul-de-sac, I see my brother’s car and cringe. “You can pull in here,” I say, knowing my dad’s radar ears will hear a car pulling up outside.

Jude doesn’t question me, slowing at the kerb a few houses down from my parents’. I take the handle to let myself out, keen to escape thehorrible atmosphere. I’m pissed off, my contentment crushed. He could clear this up with a quick explanation, and yet he hasn’t. But does he owe me an explanation? No. And he obviously doesn’t think so either. So last night was ... what? Fuck, I don’t like this version of myself. I thought this thing would be easy and uncomplicated, but this horrible apprehensive feeling inside doesn’t feel very easy, and I’m suddenly revisiting all the signs that Jude is anything but uncomplicated.

“Amelia, wait,” he says when I have one foot on the road, my arse still in the seat. I still but don’t look at him. “This isn’t how I want our first date to end.”

First date?Jesus Christ.Yesterday wasn’t a first date. It felt like we bypassed all the usual stages of dating and hopped straight to full-blown. At least, it feels like that to me. And is that the problem? I feel like this is something and he doesn’t?I’m in more trouble now than I was an hour ago.My God, my head could pop.

I pull a smile from nowhere and turn to him. “We’re good,” I say, leaning over and kissing him. “Thank you for the ride back.”

The frown that passes over his face is deep but fleeting. “Welcome. I’ll call you?” It sounds like more of a question than a statement. Not very Jude at all.

“Okay.” Another chaste kiss before I get out. As I walk away, my heart sinks with every stride. I’m very quickly falling from my high.Falling.My heart clenches.No no no.

I push my way through the front door and meet Clark in the hallway. He looks me up and down as I make a pointless effort of smoothing the creases on the clothes I wore yesterday. “There you are,” he says. “Mum was about to report you missing.”

I roll my eyes and drop my bag. “I’m ten minutes late.”

“In the history of Amelia Lazenby, you have never, and I meannever, been evenoneminute late. Ten minutes is practically another day in your world.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” I drop a kiss on his cheek and pass him. “Are Grandpa and Grandma here?”

“In the lounge,” he calls after me. “Um, Amelia, dear sister?”

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