Gavin visibly deflates.
Okay, that’s weird.
“Where were they?” I ask. They’ve been gone all day.
Gavin shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be down soon,” he says, which is a nice way to say the conversation is over, so I respect his space and leave.
“The tree is bonnie,” Jean says when I make it downstairs. Her cheeks are rosy and her turtleneck looks thick and warm.
I tug my sleeves down over my palms. “Violet chose it, of course. Hamish’s older daughter.”
“The children did the decorating too, I can see,” Don says, shrugging from his coat.
“Most of it, yes. Did you have a good day?”
“Aye, we did. Don drove me out to that cafe in Dunleith for a coffee because I wanted something a little more fresh than Gavin keeps here, and we found ourselves distracted by the shops. I couldn’t believe all that time had passed.”
“Wow, must be good coffee.”
Jean moans. “You would not believe it. I’ll take you sometime.”
Something deep inside tells me she won’t.
“There’s a shop I’ve been wanting to look at in Inverness, Don. Maybe we’ll go tomorrow.”
“Isn’t that an hour away?” I ask.
Don removes his glasses and wipes the lenses on the bottom of his shirt. “About that, aye.”
Would it be too much for me to suggest they do something with their son? Probably. Given his reaction to their return, it’s possible he doesn’t want to do anything with them, either.
But I have to try. “My parents get in tomorrow. I don’t remember what all we have planned, but you’re welcome to join us.”
Jean blinks at me a few times before responding. “Thank you, Callie. I look forward to meeting your parents. Did you say dinner is ready?”
“Yes. Rhys made creamy chick?—”
“Great. I’ll see myself into the kitchen.”
I’m standing alone in the living room when Gavin makes it downstairs, but they had been with me only moments before. It was such an abrupt change in conversation, I feel whiplash.
“You look stunned,” he says softly.
“Oh. Yeah. Let’s eat.”
“What happened?”
Do I tell him that his parents ditched us for the day so they could get a coffee? It’s weird, so I keep it to myself. Instead, I paste on a bright smile and take his hand,tugging him toward his kitchen. “Nothing. Come on, I’m starving.”
The creamy chickensoup was great, but I expected no less since my brother-in-law is a chef. Everything he makes is incredible. Once dinner is put away and the dads are upstairs putting the kids to bed, I pull out Gavin’s playing cards. “Who’s up for some holiday Garbage?”
“How is it different from regular Garbage?” Luna asks.
“We play it next to the Christmas tree.”
