She high-fived him. ‘Of course, I can. And I’ll go straight to Mom okay? It’s where I was heading anyhow.’
‘Uh-uh. Hang on. Who’s this?’ He pointed a finger at me.
‘This is my friend Stephen.’
‘A boyfriend type of friend?’
‘No. A friend type of friend.’
‘Are you sure? He looks just like your type A preferred brand of date.’
I raised my eyebrows and looked at her, but she crossed her arms and kept her focus on him. ‘Timothy. I will kick you in the nuts if you don’t drop it.’
He held up his hands in surrender.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ I offered politely.
‘Hey, dude.’ He grinned and shook my hand but turned to Noelle with a frown. ‘So, you never answered me about the blind date—’
‘I did. You just chose not to listen. And I don’t want to go over it again now.’
Without waiting for his response, Noelle started dragging me through the house again.
‘So, that’s your brother Tim.’
‘Yeah. That’s him.’ Her voice was unnaturally bright. For some reason I didn’t feel as willing to let it drop as I had at the funfair.
‘Why won’t you let him set you up? And what exactly is your type A preferred brand of man?’
She came to a stop at the door into the kitchen, sighed and pulled me aside. ‘Listen, Stephen, you and I have sparred enough that I know you and Nick must have a similar family rapport, with the banter and the teasing. The thing is, you will hear a lot of jests about my love life here today. There will be talk of my type A and type B, and the merry band of misfits who are my exes. But if we are going to stay here and talk my dad into doing you this favour and remain friends, I ask that you pretend you haven’t heard it. Please?’
Her cheeks were flushed, and her fingers fluttered around straightening the strap of her dress, which required no straightening. ‘You know…there’s a fine line between banter and bullying.’
‘They don’t mean any harm.’
‘It doesn’t mean they’re not doing some.’
She frowned up at me, as though she didn’t recognise me. ‘I can handle them.’
‘Obviously. Will you punch me in the kidneys if I don’t drop it too?’ I joked, trying to lighten the mood again. I didn’t want her to think I was criticising her family, without even knowing them.
‘Oh no. You’d be expecting that, and type A guys deserve much worse.’ She winked at me before walking into the narrow galley kitchen. A woman the same height as Noelle with fair hair braided back was standing at the sink washing a large bowl, looking out the window watching a bunch of men who were crowded around a grill on the lawn.
‘Mom.’ Noelle slid her arm around her mother and leaned her head on her shoulder with a relieved sigh like she was home and could finally relax.
An unexpected moment of grief ripped through my gut.
My safe place was gone. It still hurt. It wasn’t ever going to stop hurting.
They were chatting about a salad that her mother wanted her to make and then Noelle turned to me with a smile in her eyes, which dimmed when she caught my expression. I put my face back together, offered her a small smile in return but I could see she wasn’t fooled. That made me think of Mum too – she’d never been fooled either.
‘Oh, who’s this?’ Noelle’s mother turned a second later and grabbed a dish towel to wipe her hands.
‘This is Stephen, from London.’
‘Well, you sure came a long way for a barbecue.’
Noelle rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. ‘He’s working in New York for the summer but we met in England at Christmas.’
