Nick glanced at her, the warm evening light throwing shadows across his face, making his cheekbones appear even sharper than usual.
“No, things got a little better. They came to Munich after I’d been there for a few years, and I’ve come home once or twice. I was here when Nina graduated from uni. It wasn’t as bad as it was when I left, but it was … tense.”
Carly stole a look at the clock on the dashboard. She didn’t know how long they’d been driving, but she suspected they didn’t have much farther to go. A moment later, Nick confirmed her suspicions, turning off the highway and driving slowly along a tree-lined street that took them down the ridge.
“But then … Nina mentioned last time?”
Nick heaved a deep sigh and didn’t say anything for a long moment. “It was five or six years ago. It was really cold for September that year, and I had to borrow a beanie from Dad. The night before I left, I went to give it back to him, and he said, no, no, hang on to it for next time. They always talk about when I come back, when I come back. Like they’re just waiting for me to come home with my tail between my legs. Admit that I was wrong when I was eighteen and ambitious and scared shitless but willing to give it a go, you know? It was like that the whole trip, even at Nina’s graduation ceremony. Mum said something about how when I come back I could go to uni here and get a degree, too.” He flicked the turn signal hard and they continued down the hill, past small brick houses with terra-cotta roofs, early evening sunlight glinting off their front windows.
“So Dad said, keep the beanie for when you come back, and I just lost it. I told him that I didn’t know when I’d be back again, and maybe I wouldn’t ever come back.”
Carly exhaled loudly.
“Yeah. I meant that I didn’t know if I’d ever move back for good, not that I’d never come see them again. And I expected him to lose his temper like he did when I was a kid, but instead he just looked … so hurt. Like I’d said the worst thing he could think of, but he thought about it all the time. I felt shitty, but I was so mad. It always feels like they’re just waiting for me to fail.”
Carly stared. She knew that feeling. And she liked to think she’d pissed her parents off more than a few times, but Nick had her beat here. “You were right, that is complicated.”
“Yeah, it is. So, that’s what you’re walking into. Because my darling sister, who stayed here and only ever moved two towns down the mountain, and went out and got a job they actually understand, insisted that we come to dinner. And because I love her, and because she’s a world champion guilt-tripper, here we are.”
He pulled the car over and threw it into park. They’d stopped in front of a squat brick house, painted pale green with a terra-cotta roof and a white front door. The front garden was neat and ordered, and the hedges separating the property from the street looked freshly trimmed.
“This is home?”
“This is where my parents live.”
“Okay, this is where your parents live. And they are?”
“Rod and Narelle. He was a principal, she still works part-time as a bookkeeper for local businesses.”
Carly nodded, tucking the names away. There was a pause, and she watched as Nick stared at the house. “And we are?”
Nick looked at her, his face a mixture of gratitude and dread, and she couldn’t help but reach across the front seat and give his hand a brief, encouraging squeeze. “We’re best man and maid of honor. Business partners. Friends. Maybe lie if they ask how we met.”
Carly pulled her hand away. She shouldn’t feel let down by his answer. That was what they were, after all. Best man and maid of honor. Uptight asshole and ballet brat. Who had made each other come repeatedly this morning, who had kissed at a beautiful lookout barely an hour ago. But he was right. They were business partners who were helping each other out. Tonight, helping him out meant sitting next to him while he faced his parents and maybe lying about how they met. She could do that.
“Understood. Let’s go,” she said, undoing her seatbelt and turning to open the door. “Oh, but Nick?” she turned back and gave him a sly grin. “If you need me to run anyone over with a luggage cart, you just say the word.”
In the five years since his last visit, the outside of the house had barely changed. The garden was still neat as a pin, the brass knocker on the front door still gleamed in the fading sunlight. And standing on the welcome mat still made his heart race. He’d been grateful to see Nina’s car already parked outside; at least he wouldn’t have to face his parents alone.
Beside him, Carly reached forward and lifted the knocker.
“It’ll be okay. And if it’s not, Icanfake sick,” she said over her shoulder. She put a hand over her stomach and faked a convincing gag, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease slightly. Not alone, even if Nina wasn’t there.
Carly tapped the door three times, and it opened almost immediately. There stood his mother, an apron tied around her waist, her grey-streaked hair clipped up in a familiar twist. Her face was more lined in person than it looked on their rare FaceTime calls, especially when she smiled, which she did as she took the two of them in. A strained smile, but a smile nonetheless. Nick’s throat was dry and tight, and he attempted to clear it before he spoke.
“Hi, Mum.”
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said, stepping forward and hugging him snugly around his waist. A little taken aback, he stood frozen in her arms, then wrapped his own arms around her shoulders and squeezed gently. She sniffed quietly, stepped back and hastily wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, and ushered them inside.
“Welcome home,” she said, sounding pleased. “And you must be Carly.”
“Hi, Mrs. Jacobs, nice to meet you. And thanks for having me,” Carly said, flashing a wide and toothy smile as she followed Nick into the front hallway. They’d replaced the carpeting since he was here last; it had been beige for as long as he could remember, and now it was a pleasant powder blue.
“How did you know her name?” Nick asked, glancing up from the carpet to take in the familiar art on the walls: a photo of his parents on their wedding day, a photo of him and Nina after an end-of-year ballet concert, and that long printed poem he’d liked so much as a kid. His chest constricted at the sight, at once alien and achingly familiar.
“Nina,” his mum shrugged. Of course. Nina kept him updated on their lives, and she served as a go-between in the other direction, too. For the first time, it occurred to him that shuttling bare-bones information between people who barely spoke must have been a strain on his sister. If it weren’t for her, he’d know almost nothing about his parents’ lives, and they’d know very little about his.
His mum put her hands in the pocket of her apron and looked him up and down.
