Page 85 of Snowed In
“Mam.”
“I’m kidding,” she says, smiling fully now. “I’m just excited. I’m allowed to be excited, aren’t I? It’s the first time in years we’ll all be there together.”
“And ten quid says Aidan will still hide under the table.”
“He’s grown up a lot,” she chides. “He’ll suffer through one night for me. Just like you will.”
“I’m not suffering anything.”
“Still,” she says, watching me sort through my lipsticks. “At least you’ll have Christian there. It’s good you two found each other.” She shakes her head, looking wistful. “The way he looks at you…”
“Like he’s madly in love,” I joke, searching for the one I want.
“Like he sees you.” And the sheer honesty in her voice makes me turn around.
“Isaac never saw you,” she continues, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I get that now.”
“Mam,” I begin slowly, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand.
“We’ve never really seen eye to eye, have we?” she asks, and I frown.
“I think we’ve done alright.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she says, amused. “But having you back home these past few days has reminded me how proud I am of you. And I don’t know if I ever told you that, but I am. What you’ve done, and the life you’ve made for yourself, I might not have always understood it, but I’m proud of you for doing it. For standing on your own two feet.” She shrugs, blinking back the fresh glimmer in her eyes. “Makes me think I did something right raising you.”
“You did,” I say, bewildered by the whole conversation. “You were brilliant. You still are.”
“I’m glad you’re coming tonight,” she adds. “I know it will be hard for you, but the support means a lot.”
“I want to go. This is important to me too.” I go to hug her, mindful of both our makeup. “It’s going to be great,” I say firmly, and she nods, letting her nerves show for the first time. “And we’re going to squeeze every last cent out of them.”
She smiles then, looking at me with such affection that I have to hug her again.
She leaves soon after when a taxi comes to collect her, and I’m just putting the finishing touches to my brows when I hear Christian’s car roll up. A second later, the doorbell goes.
“It’s open,” I call and grab my coat, a long navy one that I’ve only ever used for fundraisers and funerals.
“Megan?”
“One second!” Perfume. Double-check teeth for lipstick. Deep breath. Another deep breath. And off I go.
My heels clack rapidly against the wooden floorboards as I stride toward the stairs. Frankie always moans about how I can wear stilettos without falling flat on my face, refusing to believe it’s just practice and gel pads, but despite what she calls my superhero calves, for one of the first times in my life, I falter as I turn the corner and look down.
Christian stands just inside the entranceway in a classic black tuxedo, single-breasted and utterly divine. The man inside it doesn’t look too bad either. His hair is brushed back, his jaw freshly shaven, and while I miss the shadow he usually keeps, I decide that scrubbed-up Christian is just as nice. Just as handsome. Just as—
“What?” he asks, and I realize I’m staring.
“Nothing.” I clear my throat. “Just didn’t think I was getting picked up by James Bond tonight.”
“It’s got a pocket and everything,” he says, gesturing grandly at his jacket. “You ready?”
“As much as I can be.” I force a smile. “Let’s go.”
“Whoa.” He takes a step to the left, blocking the door. “Nuh-uh. Big reveal first.”
“What?”
“Show me the dress! Hannah’s been keeping her door shut. I’m dying here.”
