“Because of what happened with Phil right before I moved home. I know that was part of why you were so anxious to move back.” He gestured around as if I’d moved into the castle itself.
My mouth opened and closed again– I didn’t know what to say.
“I didn’t know you knew about that,” I said eventually.
“Chloe told me,” he said. “I’d wondered why you were so averse to hanging out with them, when you’d loved being around us growing up. So she filled me in. Sorry.”
I felt my face flush slightly. This whole time I’d thought Jack had been oblivious to my feelings for Phil. Sure, he’d known I had a crush on his best friend growing up, but adult feelings were different.
“I can’t believe you’ve known all this time.”
“Yeah, well, I notice when you’re not there.”
“Yeah?” I pouted up at him. “Really?”
He nodded solemnly. “Really. I like having you around. Weall do. And it’s not the same when you’re not there. Why did you think I was so keen for you to move home last year?”
I shrugged. “Because you hated Chris?”
“Well, that too,” he said, and we laughed. “But I missed you. And I wanted you home. And I know things went a bit wobbly with Phil there for a bit, but I’m really glad you’re still here. I know you’re my sister, but you’re my friend, too. And that makes me really happy.”
I could hear a slight croak in his voice, and I glared at him sternly. If Jack cried, I would almost certainly cry, and Chloe had worked too damn hard on my makeup. I took a deep breath, flapping my lips as I breathed out, shaking back and forth, trying to let the emotion roll off me.
“It makes me happy too,” I said, warming up to a cringe-worthy “I love you.” But then Jack frowned and pulled his phone out again, and the moment was gone.
“What the hell is so important you’re interrupting our sibling bonding moment?” I joked, but then he winced and looked up at me guiltily.
“Sorry,” he said, then held out a hand. “Just do me a favour and don’t move for a minute, yeah?”
“Okay,” I said tentatively, but he was already walking away. Then he paused on the steps, looked up from his phone, and then back at me again.
“By the way,” he called, “what did you and Phil do on your first date?”
I blinked at him, confused, and not just because the question had come out of nowhere. I almost said we went bowling– that had been the first actual date night of our arrangement, after all. But I couldn’t remember what we’d actually agreed to tell people. I wasn’t sure it mattered anymore, but it bothered me that I couldn’t remember.
“I’ll be back,” he said, despite the fact that I hadn’t answered, then turned and skipped down the grand staircase.
I pulled my phone out of my dress– because yes, Atelier Owen gowns had pockets– and opened the Our Lore note for the first time in… weeks? Months even? We’d stopped using it so quickly, I couldn’t be sure.
I didn’t have to scroll far to find the answer– we’d agreed that our first date was actually just an angry makeout in his front hall because we’d fumbled asking one another out so badly. But why had Jack asked me that?
I scrolled back up to the top before closing the note, but as I did, I saw the “last edited” date, and my heart stopped. It was today’s date, just a few minutes ago.
I scrolled down desperately, trying to see what he’d added. Before long, I reached what had been our last entry– one I’d written joking that Phil was a terrible driver– but it was far from the last entry now. There were dozens of pieces of lore that had been added since then, separated from the rest by the selfie we took on our first date– both of us drunk out of our minds, Phil’s eyes glued to me, full of love even then.
I read through the new additions, my mouth falling further and further open as I read.
I’m 60, and you buy me a 30th anniversary present. It’s the 30th iteration of the same sign: The Evan’s-Owen’s, est 2024. I hang it up anyway next to all the others.
You finally unpack and redecorate your bedroom, and the next day I ask you to move in with me for real. Not coincidentally, either. I waited until the exact moment you were happy with it to ask you. Because I’m a prick, remember?
Instead of shutting down the holiday idea, I hire a carer for Ethel and spend two weeks in your arms as we sail through the fjords. Your parents have to move rooms because of how loud you are when I make you come.
I don’t say horrible things to you, or leave you sitting outside on a bench. Instead you come to the hospital with me, and we deal with things together, and I act like a fucking grownup instead of a scared child.
We never start our fake dating arrangement. You marry the cute knight (yeah, I know he’s cute, I have eyes) and have lots of dumb cute babies with him. I pretend to be thrilled for you, because I want you to be happy more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Somehow my mum and dad are still here, but I also still know you. They love you.
