Page 65 of Just a Taste
That triggers another round of loud, garbled questioning from my family gathered around the phone.
Hoxton looks very much like he’s hoping aliens will descend upon Earth and beam him up. I can’t say that I blame him. I’m currently hoping the aliens will take pity on me too.
On a good day, my family are alot. There’s a reason Eve waited two years before bringing Nathan to one of our annual Christmas reunions, and she always jokes that she had to secure the ring first so he couldn’t change his mind. This is most definitelynotthe ideal scenario I would’ve had in mind for Hoxton meeting my family.
Not that I ever had any intention of him meeting them in the first place, but still.
Not ideal.
The man is practically vibrating with nerves. He keeps running a hand through his hair, like he’s trying to smooth down his sleep-tousled curls but they’re not cooperating. It’s hard to believe that this is the same person who I watched scowl wordlessly at his Board of Directors from the head of the dinner table just a few days ago.
Where has that confidence, that bravado, that casual indifference to everyone but himself gone?
‘Aclient?’ someone says; I think, from the sound of it, it’s my cousin Jean. ‘And that’s where she is right now? In bed with him? That’s a bit saucy, isn’t it?’
Thank you, Jean.
They all start talking over each other like Hoxton and I aren’t in the room. Which, I suppose we’re not. But still.
‘We can hear you; you know?’ I say, raising my voice a little louder when someone – Eve, of course – starts running through Hoxton’s credentials, telling everyone all about HoxTech. They don’t acknowledge me because Eve’s helpful bout of information-sharing has in turn elicited another round ofoohs andahhs because HoxTech is a household name. One of my uncles starts gushing about a HoxTech vacuum he bought eight years ago that still works like it’s brand new. A cousin asks if they can get a discount on the latest HoxTech laptop. Someone else mentions something about a phone.
I had no idea my family were such big fans.
The more they talk, the more it looks like Hoxton is about to bolt. He’s sitting on the very edge of the bed, his body angled towards the door, and I know that the only thing stopping him from making a beeline for freedom is the fact that the camera is still on him.
I don’t understand how my family can’t feel his tension vibrating through the screen, but I know I need to intervene before that aneurysm Roland mentioned three days ago finally becomes a reality.
‘I’m stuck here because of the storm,’ I tell them, turning the camera back to me to give him a little bit of a reprieve. I half expect him to sprint out of the room the second the camera is off him, but I think he’s still frozen in place because he doesn’t move an inch.
‘Hox— Alex was kind enough to let me use his spare room while we ride it out. That’s all.’
‘And you’rebothin the spare room, then?’ Eve says and I swear to God, I’m going to throttle her as soon as I see her again. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
I glare at the screen, but Eve’s deceptively innocent smile doesn’t waver.
‘We had a heating issue,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Nothing scandalous, I promise.’
My family members exchange knowing glances, and it’s clear that their curiosity hasn’t been satisfied by my explanation.
‘A shame,’ Eve says with a dramatic sigh. ‘You know how much we love a scandal.’
‘Didn’t you say you guys are about to start cooking?’ I ask, still scowling at my twin. As usual, she isn’t fazed.
‘That’s right,’ Gran calls from somewhere in the background, her voice fading away in a way that tells me she’s already wandering off towards the kitchen. ‘Come on. Quick time now. If you don’t help, you’re not eating tomorrow.’
Everyone grumbles but, one by one, they all slowly disappear from the camera frame. Gran isn’t playing when she says, ‘If you don’t help, you don’t eat.’ It’s another one of my favourite Jones family Christmas traditions. Christmas Eve spent in the kitchen – everyone pitching in however they can. Even the younger ones get given a job, mostly setting out the plates, cutlery and cups for the big day. It’s hectic. It’s fun. It’s my family. And God, if I don’t miss it.
Hoxton breathes a sigh of relief as the chaos dies down. I can practically see the tension draining from his shoulders, but the relief is short-lived because Eve is still grinning up from the screen.
‘You’re evil,’ I mutter to Eve, shooting her a look that promises retribution later. She just laughs, delighting in the chaos she’s caused. ‘You know that, right?’
She shrugs and then makes a show of peering around, like she can somehow see through the confines of the camera. ‘Is he still there, or did we scare him off?’
Against all odds, Hoxtonisstill here. He’s still perched on the edge of the bed, looking borderline shellshocked. I don’t think he’s said a word since I answered the call.
He looks up suddenly, his eyes meeting mine. And then— ‘He’s still here,’ he says, voice low and filled with something I don’t think I’ve ever heard before. It’s amusement tinged with something else, but I’m not sure what.
Eve squeals, obviously delighted, and claps her hands together. ‘Put him on. Put him on!’
