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I have to think about that.“I don’t think so.”

“Good.I was planning to do spaghetti Bolognese later.James is invited.”That’s all Dad says.Then he turns back to his book.

“That’s a great idea,” Mum agrees, smiling broadly at me.She’s really trying not to look so anxious, but there’s still a skeptical glint in her eye.She gives Dad a fleeting pat on the arm, then grabs the next letter and opens it.

It seems like the conversation is over, so I creep backward outof the living room.Then I head into the kitchen, where you can watch the cars turning onto our street.When Ember and I were little, we always used to sit on the dresser when we were expecting family and watch out for them to arrive.

In less than ten minutes, the Rolls comes round the corner.I start running.No way can I let Dad get to the door first and glare at James with eagle eyes.

I open the door before he’s even gotten out of the car.The air is still fresh and I shift my weight from one foot to the other to keep warm, but it’s no use.I stop as James comes closer.He opens the little wooden gate with a practiced hand and then looks up at me.For a tiny moment, his steps slow, but then he comes through the front garden and up the steps, until he’s standing in front of me, at our front door.

“Hey,” he says, his voice scratchy.

I long to give him a hug, just for that pathetic little word.There was a time when him greeting everyone like that really wound me up, but these days it just sounds natural from his lips.And pretty much normal.

“Good morning,” I reply, holding the door for him.I nod to him to come in.

The moment in which he clears his throat quietly and steps through the doorway into our house seems immensely significant to me.I wonder if he knows that he’s the first boy I’ve brought home.The first to mean so much to me, and who I—even now—trust enough to introduce to my parents.

The sight of James in our little hallway is weird, but at the same time, I’m asking myself how I was ever so scared of this moment.Everything about it feels right.

James is wearing a gray coat with subtle checks over blacktrousers in some soft fabric and a simple black wool jumper.His leather shoes are black too.His red-blond hair is disheveled as ever and curling slightly, like he’s just had a shower.I long to touch it.

“Can I take your coat?”I ask instead.

James nods, lost in thought, as he looks around.Of course he catches sight of the cringeworthy photos of Ember and me when we were kids.There’s one where we’re dancing in the garden, another where we’re picking apples, and another where we’re in a paddling pool at my aunt’s house, beaming with gap-toothed smiles.James takes them all in while slipping his coat from his shoulders in one fluid movement and then handing it to me.

I have to really force myself not to stare at him—after all the time I’ve spent lately forbidding myself from doing so, the temptation is even greater.

I focus on hanging his coat neatly on the hook, then I walk to the living room.James follows, but before I open the door, I whirl around and look up at him.

“Are you a vegetarian?”

James blinks several times.One corner of his mouth twitches as he slowly shakes his head.“No, I’m not.”

I exhale.“Good.”

As I press the handle down and walk into the room, James on my heels, my stomach is fluttering nervously.

“Mum, Dad, this is James,” I say, gesturing toward him.

James takes an audible breath, then walks over to my mum, holding out his hand.“Pleased to meet you, Mrs.Bell.”

“Hello, James,” Mum says, smiling warmly at him.“Do call me Helen.”

There’s no sign of her earlier skepticism, and I wonder if she’s really this good an actor, or if she’s cutting him a little slackbecause she knows how devastated he was after his mum died and she feels sorry for him.

“No problem, Helen,” says James.

Dad isn’t as good at hiding his suspicion.His eyes are cool and appraising, and it looks like he’s crushing James’s hand as he shakes it.James doesn’t flinch.

Fortunately, Mum breaks the awkward moment.“We’d like to invite you to dinner, James,” she says, “so that we can all get to know each other a bit.”

I shut my eyes and fight down the urge to press my fingers to the bridge of my nose.I hope James isn’t already overwhelmed by my family.

“That would be lovely,” he replies, without a moment’s hesitation.“I don’t have anything on for the rest of the day.”

“Great,” Dad says, with no emotion of any kind in his voice.