13

Christy

The men Christy had dated before Seb had all been the same type. They were doctors, lawyers, or they worked ridiculous hours in finance. Men who took her to the theater or for dinner in restaurants they’d read about in a review. Men who had a clear idea of what they wanted from life and followed a path that had been trodden by many before them. Men she could take home to meet her mother, knowing Elizabeth would approve. She’d floated through those evenings, her brain unengaged, her feelings neutral. There was nothing particularly wrong with those men, but there was nothing particularly right with them, either. Sometimes she’d thought to herself, Is this it, is this all it is? But then she’d realized that the answer to that might be scary or depressing so she stopped asking herself the question. She’d discovered that when something made her uncomfortable it was best ignored. That was what her mother did, and it had worked well for her. Never had that approach been more in evidence than when her father died.

Christy had been experimenting with gouache and pastels in an art class when she was summoned to the school office. Her mother had been sitting there, white-faced and dry-eyed, waiting to take her home. Her father’s heart had decided it was tired of beating. He was dead. It was a week after her tenth birthday. A week after her father, who she adored, had told her she could do anything she wanted in life. Christy had only just begun to consider what that might be.

Even now when she thought about that day—and she tried hard not to because frankly it all felt like too much to handle—what she remembered wasn’t the words or the sympathetic expression on her teacher’s face, but the way her mother had taken her home and scrubbed at the blue smudges of paint on her fingers, as if cleaning them would solve everything. As if the stains on her skin were the problem and not the absence of the person they both loved most in the world. It had taken years for her to understand that her mother’s way of coping with the big things in life was to focus on the small things. By the time you’d made beds, peeled potatoes, cleaned, dusted, shopped and ironed, there was no room for reflection. And if you made a list, you didn’t ever find yourself with a terrifying moment of emptiness. The longer the list, the less likely you were to find yourself with a gap in activities. A gap, she’d discovered, was a grief trap ready to snap its jaws closed.

To begin with, Christy had howled and sobbed. Why was life so unfair? How could this happen? How could a heart give up with no warning? She’d wanted to talk about how she was feeling, but whenever she tried to do that, her mother closed down. Her solution to Christy’s distress had been to give her things to do. Lay the table. Make bread. Keep busy, busy, busy. Don’t think deeply. Don’t give those uncomfortable emotions space to grow.

It was an approach that seemed to work. Christy discovered that when she was pummeling the dough and waiting for it to rise, she thought less about her father. And if her list of things to do was long enough she could occasionally go hours without being ambushed.

She learned to copy her mother’s behavior. From watching Elizabeth she’d learned that you couldn’t control the big things in life, but you could control the small things. So that was what she did.

Christy had lived her life that way. And then she’d met Seb.

Seb had never made a list in his life. He liked to be spontaneous. He never booked tables in restaurants or advance tickets to the theater. He didn’t have a plan for the following week, let alone a five-year plan or a ten-year plan. When she’d asked what he hoped to be doing in ten years, he’d said, Enjoying my life, and he made what seemed to her like uncertainty sound exciting. That night in the bar she’d realized she’d reined in her life so tightly that it wasn’t going anywhere. She’d controlled everything, leaving no room for the unplanned or the unexpected. Her life was predictable and safe, but it was also boring. So boring. Seb showed her an alternate reality, and it was intoxicating. He represented a life she’d rejected. Alix had thought he was wrong for her, but Christy knew he was right for the person she wanted to be.

In those early weeks she’d woken with a feeling of excitement for what the day might bring. On Sundays he’d take her for brunch by the river, or they’d spend the whole day in bed occasionally refueling with pizza ordered from the Italian restaurant next door to his apartment. He had a motorbike because it made it easier to negotiate London traffic, and Christy, who had never been on the back of a motorbike in her life, had felt daring and unbelievably free when he’d taken her on a trip out to the country. They’d picnicked in a field, made love under the shelter of an oak tree and then traveled back to London. With her body pressed against his, the rush of wind in her face and the glittering spectacle of London at night, Christy had never felt more alive.

Every day he surprised her. There was no plan, there was only the moment. He’d taken her on a roller coaster and, as she’d screamed and closed her eyes and tried to hold on to the contents of her stomach, she’d realized that this was how he lived his life, embracing the ups and downs. For Christy, whose life had been all but ironed flat, it was a revelation. She’d wondered, maybe, if extremes of emotions weren’t more fun than bland neutrality.

And then she’d missed a period.

She’d sat on the toilet seat in his bathroom, the stick in her hand, hyperventilating as she was confronted by what was without a doubt the most scary, spontaneous thing she’d ever done.

She didn’t tell Seb. She could see now that she’d automatically reverted to her default mode for crisis management. She’d buried it, tried not to think about it because it was so huge, but then she’d realized that pretty soon she’d be huge, and keeping busy or ignoring it wasn’t an option this time.

So she told him, and again he’d surprised her because instead of walking away as she’d expected, he’d laughed out loud, then scooped her up and swung her round and said that being parents was going to be the most exciting adventure of all. He’d sold his motorbike (because even he wasn’t willing to strap a baby to a bike), she’d moved out of her apartment and into his, and they’d set up home together. She’d cleared the tiny second bedroom and turned it into a nursery. She’d painted fields with sheep and cows on the walls and fluffy clouds on the ceiling and hadn’t bothered scrubbing at the paint that had covered her fingers and streaked her hair.

She’d given up her job in an agency and turned freelance so that she’d have more control over her time. She’d loved this new version of herself almost as much as she loved their life. She loved it so much she even managed to weather her mother’s disapproval and dire prophesies that such impetuousness could only end in disaster. Her mother thought she was being ruled by emotion, and Christy didn’t disagree. But she did disagree that it was a bad thing. She liked feeling things! Feeling was good. Yes, there were lows, but there were also highs, and the highs made it all worth it. But it turned out that it wasn’t easy to be spontaneous when you had a baby. Holly’s needs were all-consuming and left no room for spontaneity. And just when Holly had started to settle into a routine that might have allowed some free time, Elizabeth had died.

Christy coped with the crippling grief the only way she knew. By staying busy. She’d made lists, then longer lists, until there were no empty gaps in her day. She hadn’t even been aware she’d reverted to her old self until a few nights before when Seb had thrown away her notebook and spontaneously booked the trip to London. It was like waking up from a long dream. Yes, she’d thought, I remember this. And I remember loving it.

Their few days together hadn’t been quite enough for them to rediscover what they’d once had, but it was a reminder that if they searched hard enough they might find it.

She was no longer surprised Seb hadn’t told her he’d lost his job. After painful reflection, she could see why he hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth. She’d maintained an almost frantic grip on life, trying to control it, trying to shape it the way she wanted it. She’d blocked out bad things with routine and fairy lights, but control was an illusion, wasn’t it? She knew that. But by controlling other things, she managed to forget it, because acknowledging that life could be random and cruel was scary. She’d given him no signals that she could cope with change.

She’d lived her life ignoring problems, painting over the surface, focusing on other things. Confronting issues was something she preferred to avoid, like walking directly into the wind or plunging into icy water.

But not anymore.

She was going to confront difficult things, and that began with her aunt, of course. And it began right now, because after driving through miles and miles of snowy white forest and the most beautiful scenery she’d ever seen, they’d arrived, and she could see a figure hovering in the doorway of the lodge ready to greet her. Her aunt, presumably. She felt a sharp stab of disappointment that Holly wasn’t there, too. Alix must have known how much she was longing to see her. And then she realized how unreasonable that was because between negotiating the airport and the drive, there was no way of knowing what time she and Seb would arrive. Alix could hardly have kept a four-year-old standing out in the cold just in case. Still, the need to see Holly was almost a physical ache, but she knew she had to do this part first. Get it over with.

“I feel a bit sick all of a sudden.” And she realized she wasn’t only nervous about meeting Robyn, she was also nervous about seeing Alix. The resentment that had been nothing more than a slow simmer had started to burn brighter. She almost mentioned her feelings to Seb, but she didn’t want to threaten their newly improved relationship by bringing it up.

She felt a rush of frustration. The fact that she was afraid to say anything meant that Alix was still having an effect on her marriage.

“You’re nervous, I know.” Seb reached across and squeezed her hand. “But this is good. It’s the right thing to do.”

Was it? Or was this whole thing a big mistake?

Just a few moments earlier she’d been promising herself that she’d confront issues, but now that that moment had arrived, all she wanted to do was head straight to her cabin and enjoy what was left of the pre-Christmas festivities.

But there was no chance of that because the woman was already opening the car door next to Christy.

Here we go, she thought as she undid her seat belt and opened the door. She hoped her mother wasn’t looking down on her and witnessing this betrayal.

“Christy? I’m Robyn. I’m excited to meet you again.”

Again.Because apparently Robyn had already met her, even though Christy herself didn’t remember. Alix had passed on that information during one of their calls. She saw you when you were three. Her last visit. It was at Christmas.

In her mind her aunt had horns and a tail, and here she was, a normal-looking person. Christy studied her face, saw her mother’s eyes and jaw and felt a sharp pang. She looked again, and she saw the same tension and anxiety that she was feeling reflected back at her. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who was feeling nervous about this meeting.

“We have so much to say to each other,” Robyn said, “but you’ve had a long journey, and I’m sure you’re longing to see Holly, so I thought we’d go straight to your cabin. You and I will have plenty of time to catch up.”

A reprieve! Christy felt nothing but relief. And she didn’t even need to feel guilty about it because for once she wasn’t the one postponing an awkward conversation.

“That sounds good to me.” She wanted to see her child. She wanted to play in the snow and see reindeer and do all the things she’d dreamed about when she’d planned the trip. She wanted this to be a Christmas they’d remember for all the right reasons.

Robyn was still talking. “I’m going to help your friends move their things to their new lodge. It’s close. A few minutes down the track. A couple from Germany vacated it this morning, so that was lucky. They were supposed to be staying until after Christmas, but she had a work crisis and they had to fly home. It’s a little smaller than the lodge Alix and Zac have been staying in—your lodge—but as they’re a couple I’m sure that won’t bother them.”

A couple?What made Robyn think they were a couple?

Christy was about to ask, but they’d arrived at the doorway of her cabin, and it was perfect, dreamy, and there, through the glass, she could see her daughter on her hands and knees with Alix, the pair of them convulsing with laughter.

Christy felt a wash of love so powerful it almost knocked her off her feet, followed by a sharp stab of jealousy, which embarrassed her. What did she want? For her child to be upset and missing her mother? Of course not. Well, maybe missing her mother a little bit. She wanted to be the most important person in Holly’s life. Was that human or weird? Since when had she been so needy?

She felt a little anxious as she helped Seb with their luggage and walked to the door with Robyn.

What if Holly wasn’t even pleased to see her? What if—

“Mummy!” With a shriek of delight, Holly bounded across the room and hurled herself at Christy. “I built a snowman. And we found the biggest tree. And I want a dog like Suka—” The words tumbled over each other in her rush to share all her experiences, and Christy felt a sharp pang that she hadn’t been the one to do those things with her daughter.

But she was here now.

She squeezed her tightly, savoring the affection. “Sounds as if you have a lot to tell me.” But Holly was already wriggling out of her arms, too excited to stay still even for a moment.

“She’s been looking out the window all morning, waiting for you.” Alix brushed fir tree needles from her legs and stepped forward a little uncertainly. “Hi there.”

“Hi, you.” Christy hugged her. “Thank you. I hope it wasn’t too tough.” It felt uncomfortable harboring these feelings of resentment—You made me suspicious about my husband—while acknowledging that she owed her friend a great deal. Taking someone else’s four-year-old for a few hours was a favor, but taking sole charge for days at a time went far beyond a kindness. And from the looks of it, Holly had been having the best time.

She wished now she’d said something years ago, instead of assuring Alix that everything was fine.

“She’s alive. I consider it my greatest achievement.” Alix gave Seb a brief hug, too. “I hope your meeting went well.”

“It was good, thanks.” His tone was polite, but didn’t invite further questions. Christy wouldn’t have minded except that he’d used the same tone with her.

She didn’t actually know how the interview had gone. The moment he’d arrived back, she’d asked, “How was it?”—she was human, wasn’t she?—and he’d said that the people seemed nice and that they’d let him know as soon as they’d made a decision.

Christy had hoped for more detail. When were they making a decision? Before Christmas? After Christmas? How many more candidates did they have to see? She’d wanted to know every question they’d asked and what he’d said in response, as if that information might somehow have helped add some much-needed certainty to her crumbling world. Seb had refused to say more than It’s done now, which was true, of course, but didn’t help her work out probabilities. Done in a good way or in an I messed that up way?

She tried not to feel hurt that he wasn’t being more open about it. She knew this was a sensitive subject for him, and she was trying to respect that. At least now she understood why he was behaving the way he was. She understood him.

Zac emerged from a room, carrying a suitcase. “Welcome to paradise. I’ve packed up the last of our things.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Holly clutched his hand. “I want us all to live here together. Mummy and Daddy, you and Aunty Alix.”

That might be a little too cozy, Christy thought. Also, she felt increasingly awkward around Alix.

Did her friend feel it, too?

She glanced at Alix, who was laughing at something Zac said and nodding over a suggestion he made for transferring their luggage across to the other cabin.

Christy watched this exchange, sensing a change and not understanding it.

They consulted one another. Made suggestions. If there was tension, they were hiding it.

Had they reached some sort of truce?

Christy frowned, curious. She glanced at Seb to see if he’d noticed, but he was listening carefully as Holly told him about a trip to find a Christmas tree.

“So,” she said as she hung up her coat, “you two must be dying to have some time off so that you can do your own thing.”

“We have a nighttime sled ride booked,” Alix said, “and also a snowshoe trip.”

We?Did she say we?

Whatever they’d planned to do, she hadn’t thought they’d be doing it together.

“I thought you’d already have done the sled ride.”

Robyn unzipped her coat. “A sled ride with the dogs is so special, Alix thought you’d want to do that with Holly.”

Christy felt guilty for feeling resentful toward Alix. Not only had she taken care of Holly, but she’d saved the special things for Christy to do.

The generous, thoughtful gesture made her heart ache. How was it possible to adore her friend, but still be so hurt by her?

“That was thoughtful.”

“And we’re going to see Santa.” Holly spun around, arms out, and Seb laughed and scooped her up.

Christy watched, wondering why this was the part of him she found sexiest. She liked his eyes, his shoulders, the way he smiled at her, but this—the way he was with their child—had the highest melt factor for her. Right from the first day he’d been good with their daughter. When Holly had emerged into the world (after a twenty-three hour labor that was nothing like the classes and the books had described), Christy had been drained and slightly shocked by everything. Seb had been dazed, exhilarated and terrified. He’d held Holly as if she’d been made of delicate glass. For the first couple of days he’d refused to hold her while standing up because he was terrified of dropping her. He’d insisted on sitting down, and once there, with the baby in his arms, he didn’t move. He’d had no siblings. No cousins. No experience of babies. But now here he was, a father, expected to know everything.

She’d had her mother, of course, but in those early days Elizabeth was still coming to terms with the fact that her daughter had behaved in such a recklessly spontaneous fashion, and Christy, afraid of being on the receiving end of one of her mother’s weary I-told-you-so looks, was determined to prove that she was made for this. Easier said than done. Holly woke every thirty minutes for the first few months of her life. Seb had to work, and Christy was feeding, so she took the brunt of it. She’d drifted through the days like a zombie. How did women go straight back to work? How did they do it? She barely had the energy to pull on clothes. The books told her to sleep when the baby slept, but Holly barely slept. Her eyes were wide-open as she gazed at her surroundings, taking it all in, determined not to miss a moment.

It was torture.

She felt as if she was drowning. Sinking into depths that seemed to have no bottom.

It was Alix who had saved her. While other people had given clothes and squishy toys, Alix’s gift to Christy had been a nanny for two hours a day. Knowing that Christy wouldn’t relinquish her baby to anyone else, the deal was that the nanny came to the apartment and cared for the baby, allowing Christy some time to herself. Christy had been resistant—what did it say about her that she needed help caring for her own child?—but it had proved to be a game changer. The nanny was experienced and kind. She praised Christy. She made her feel like the best mother in the world instead of the worst. She told her she was doing a great job. (Job? And yet where was the training?) On the first day Christy didn’t know what to do with herself, so she took a bath. She read five pages of a book. On the second day she put makeup on. By the end of a week she was starting to feel human again. She relaxed and—miracle!—the baby started to sleep for a few hours at a time. And then a little longer. She and Seb collapsed into bed early, and he helped whenever he could. He started his day at four in the morning so that he could take the baby after she’d fed and give Christy a few hours of sleep before he left the house. She was worried that he wouldn’t be able to function on so little sleep, but he said he enjoyed the quiet time with his daughter.

They’d struggled through those first months, and then finally things had started to settle down. And then Holly had started moving. Crawling at first, shuffling across the floor at speeds that caught Christy by surprise. Then she was up on her feet, unsteady to begin with but always fearless. After that there was no stopping her. If there was something she could grab, she grabbed it. Something she could climb, she climbed it. The word careful was a mystery to her.

They’d gone from lack of sleep to lack of time.

Looking back on it, it was a wonder her marriage to Seb had survived. They’d barely had any time together before Holly had arrived. Their relationship was so new, so fragile, and yet they’d had no time to tend it. Making it through each day with the three of them alive felt like an achievement. And despite the fact this hadn’t been in his life plan, Seb stuck with it, brought her strong coffee in the mornings before leaving for work and picked up food on the way home if she was too tired to cook. And then her mother died. It had felt like one thing after another. At the time she’d been proud that they were surviving, but now she saw that in focusing on survival they’d missed out on those small details that form the building blocks of a relationship.

That was the part they were going to focus on, moving forward. She was determined.

“I’ll give you some time to explore your new surroundings while I take Alix and Zac over to their new cabin,” Robyn said. “It should be ready by now.”

Christy turned, realizing that she’d been rude.

“You’re leaving? But you and I have so much to talk about. So much to catch up on.”

“That can wait.” Robyn smiled. “You need to spend some time with your family. The fridge is stocked with food, so help yourself, although I hope that you’ll join Erik and me for dinner over in the lodge one evening once you’ve settled in.”

Holly darted across the room. “Don’t go, Aunt Robyn!”

Robyn dropped into a crouch. “Suka can stay with you. Would you like that?”

“Yes, but I want you to stay, too.” Holly flung her arms round her, almost knocking her flat, and it occurred to Christy that Holly knew Robyn better than she did. She’d spent time with her. Talked to her, although not about anything significant, presumably.

Robyn hugged her gently. “You need time with your parents.”

“They can be here, too. We can all be together.”

Christy decided her daughter was going to be a party animal when she grew up. The more people, the better. The more risk, the better.

“I have a suggestion.” Seb scooped Holly into his arms. “Tomorrow you and I will build a snowman outside for Mummy while she goes and chats to Aunt Robyn. A Daddy-and-Holly morning. What do you say?”

“I say yes!” Holly smacked a kiss onto his cheek and wriggled out of his arms.

“Perfect.” Robyn was smiling. “Come over tomorrow morning. Join me for some fika.”

“Fika?”

“It’s a Swedish tradition. Basically a social gathering with coffee and cake.”

“It sounds great. What time?”

Robyn shrugged. “Anytime that suits you in the morning. I’ll be doing paperwork first thing, so come over whenever you’re ready.”

“Right.” Anytime. So clearly Robyn was nothing like her sister. Elizabeth had a schedule for everything. Arrangements were never casual. The words Come over whenever you’re ready had never left her mouth.

Robyn paused. “Unless you’d rather fix a time? We can do that if you’d prefer?”

Oh it was tempting. Her hands still ached to reach for her notebook. She made lists in her head that she never wrote down. “No,” she said firmly, “I don’t need to fix a time.” She didn’t want to be that person. She reminded herself that meticulous planning didn’t make you any more in control, it just gave you the illusion of control. But sometimes the illusion was good. The illusion was comforting.

“Great.” Robyn smiled at Holly. “Will you take care of Suka for me?”

“Yes!” Holly hugged the dog who stood patiently, tail wagging, and she looked so blissfully happy that Christy thought, We’re going to have to get her a dog.

Robyn left, and Zac and Alix followed her to the door.

“We’ll move our things and see you later.” Zac picked up some of their luggage, and Alix took the rest.

“Wait!” Christy didn’t want them to leave. She wanted to know more about what had happened. And now Alix was waiting, as requested, and Christy didn’t know what to say. What is going on with Zac? “So…how was it?”

“How was what?” Alix pulled on a hat, even though their new cabin was apparently only a short distance away. Through the trees, one turn in the track, Robyn had said.

“Your few days here. Was there any trouble?”

“Trouble?” Alix zipped her coat. It was black, thickly insulated and would have made most people look like an overstuffed pudding. Alix looked spectacular. Her hair, also dark, curved around her chin. “What kind of trouble?”

The male kind. The kind standing within touching distance, waiting for Christy to stop bumbling and rambling so that they could get on with moving their things.

“Any kind.”

Alix smiled. “There was no trouble. As far as we’re aware, Holly didn’t incur any visible damage. This place is special. I hope you enjoy your afternoon.”

That was it? No! There was more. There had to be more. And Christy wanted all the details.

She watched as Alix turned to Zac and asked him a question, the tone casual, familiar, and Christy felt unsettled, pushed out, less important, because for the first time ever in their friendship there was something about Alix that she didn’t know. She wasn’t part of it. She was second best.

Was this how Alix felt with her and Seb?

The sudden insight was unsteadying.

They’d talked about a lot of things when they were growing up, but they’d never talked about this situation. How they would handle another person in their lives. A serious relationship. Conversations that neither of them were part of. Jokes that they didn’t understand. They’d taken for granted that nothing would ever change, but how could it not?

Suddenly she missed the simplicity of their old friendship. Of speaking without having to watch your words. Of giving without holding back, trusting without suspicion. Did life inevitably become more complex, or was it their friendship in particular?

“Have fun, and we’ll meet up tomorrow.” Alix pulled on gloves.

“Tomorrow?” Christy looked at her and then at Zac. “What are you two going to do?”

“Settle into our new place, and then we’re going on the night snowshoe walk through the forest.”

“That sounds…fun.” It sounded romantic, that was how it sounded. But Alix and Zac didn’t have any romantic feelings toward each other. Did they? Or had something changed?

What had Robyn said? As they’re a couple I’m sure it won’t bother them.

She had so many questions, but no opportunity to ask them. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

They left, and she focused her attention on her daughter while Seb made hot drinks.

“This place is incredible.” He opened and closed a kitchen cabinet, investigating their surroundings. “It’s fully stocked with food. Fortunately, it’s not all salmon. I’m making coffee. Do you want some?”

“Yes, please.” She explored the cabin with Holly, charmed by the little sleeping shelf covered in soft bedding and fluffy toys. Two books lay open on the covers. “Were you reading?”

“Aunty Alix and Uncle Zac were reading to me.”

“Together?”

“Mm. Uncle Zac did the wolf voice, and Aunty Alix was the rabbit.”

Christy couldn’t picture Alix as a rabbit. “Show me the bedroom.”

Holly tugged her into the next room, and Christy’s first thought was that it was the most romantic place she’d ever seen. A large bed was positioned so that it overlooked the forest through the floor-to-ceiling window. A fire flickered on one wall, and two lamps sent a soft glow across the room.

“Alix slept here?”

“Yes. And Uncle Zac slept on the sofa, even though he was too tall for it. He said in the morning that his back ached and Aunty Alix said she’d swap with him, but he said no.”

“So…” How could she phrase this? “Alix and Zac were friends?”

“Yes. They love each other. And I’m going to be their bridesmaid.” Holly skipped out of the room, scooped up her toy reindeer as she passed her room and bounded across the cabin to Seb.

Bridesmaid?Holly had obviously misinterpreted something she’d overheard. Quite apart from the fact that Alix and Zac could barely tolerate being in the same room together, neither of them were the marrying type.

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Holly was dragging out a puzzle to play with Seb, and they were down on the floor by the Christmas tree, heads together.

Christy joined them, thinking of how perfect this was. “The tree is beautiful.”

“I chose it.”

Christy removed a pine needle from her daughter’s hair. “You went with Aunt Robyn?”

“And Erik, and also Aunty Alix and Uncle Zac.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“It was. And we threw snowballs.”

“That sounds like fun, too.” One of her most interesting discoveries as a mother was that, apart from the physical resemblance, her child was nothing like her. She was an individual. A person in her own right, with a personality all her own. She wasn’t a mini version of Christy. They weren’t even similar. Getting to know her was an enchanting voyage of discovery. “You didn’t get cold?”

“I had hot chocolate. And then we came back here, and we decorated the tree.”

Christy felt a pang that she’d missed that part. “You did a great job.”

“Yes. And they were pleased they kept me alive. They said so.”

Seb laughed, and so did Christy, because there was something hilarious about the way Holly repeated what she’d heard with no filter.

“So earlier,” she said as she moved one of the puzzle pieces, keeping her voice casual, “when you mentioned that they loved each other and that you were going to be their bridesmaid—”

Seb gave her a sharp look. “What?”

“It was something Holly said.”

Holly put her arms round Suka. “Can we have a dog?”

“Maybe. We’ll talk about it. But, Holly—” she felt slightly guilty about interrogating her child “—what made you say that?”

“I love Suka. I want a dog like her.”

“No, I mean what made you say that Alix and Zac love each other? What made you think you could be their bridesmaid?”

“Because they kissed,” Holly said. “And it lasted forever.”

They’d kissed? They’d kissed? And Alix hadn’t shared that with her?

Christy rocked back on her heels and then sat down hard on the floor as if someone had pushed her. And that was how it felt. Something had happened between Alix and Zac, and Alix hadn’t shared it with her. And it was no good telling herself that there hadn’t been opportunity because there had been plenty. They’d talked several times a day, even if only briefly before the phone was handed to Holly. But they’d talked. And they’d messaged. And Alix had said things like It’s beautiful here. You’re going to love it and Holly built a huge snowman. But what she hadn’t said was I kissed Zac.

Why?

The first time she’d kissed a boy—Michael Something, she couldn’t remember his second name—she’d told Alix. And Alix had done the same with her. Alix had always been open about her romantic encounters (she refused to call them relationships). She’d told Christy about the date she’d had with the doctor from Boston, the one-night stand with the tech genius she’d met in a bar. She’d told Christy that if she ever met a man she thought she could spend more than an evening with, she’d let her know. She’d told her all these things.

But she hadn’t told her that she’d kissed Zac.