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She’d smiled. Because you’re worried. And with that, she’d pulled him in and given him a hug—possibly the moment that had cemented them as friends, rather than just that unique friend’s boyfriend–girlfriend’s friend dynamic.

He’d done as instructed—opening the taxi door for Eleanor on the way out of the airport, asking Gavin if he had any plans for the garden come spring—earning a quizzical look from Mel. And, after a couple of days, he had felt more relaxed than he’d been expecting.

He and Mel had broken away from her parents on day three, heading off to try Mel’s first red slope, which Eleanor and Gavin had insisted would be far too much for them. He remembered skiing down the slope, the sky a clear blue, snow glistening in the sun—that way it only really does in the mountains. He’d been skiing a few times before—he wasn’t brilliant, but given Mel had never been before he was a bit better than her. He remembered how annoyed she was about that—and about the fact that she didn’t immediately master it. He’d been starting to realize by then that Mel could achieve anything she put her mind to—she wasn’t in your face about it, but was quietly determined.

Her blue eyes were bright when they reached the bottom of the slope, her cheeks rosy. She looked so goddamned cute. She huffed as she reached down to unclip her skis.

“I just want to be good at it,” she said, continuing the conversation they’d had at the top of the slope. She looked one step away from stamping her foot, and it made him grin.

“Well, that takes practice.” He cocked his head. “And are you sure you want to be good, or just better than me?”

She made a face and he knew he was right. He laughed and she sighed, shaking her head. “I promise I’m not always this competitive.”

“Ah, you don’t have to lie to me. I love that about you, anyway.”

Her eyes flashed to his and he realized what he’d said. Like. He should have said he liked that about her. And he did—he liked her drive, her purpose, the way she applied it to almost everything. But love, that was a big step. One he wasn’t quite ready to take yet. He’d never said it to anyone outside his family before—and was a little scared of what it might mean, to say it out loud, to offer up that kind of commitment. Also—a horrible squirm in his stomach—what if she didn’t say it back?

She was cocking her head, studying him. Then she smiled, a little slyly, and his heart lurched. Trouble—that whole smile screamed trouble.

“Oh, really?” Her voice was practically a purr. “What else do you love about me?” He felt the squirm in his stomach twist into panic, and she laughed at whatever expression crossed his face. “Relax, Finn, I’m teasing.” She nudged him gently in the side, then glanced around. “Where are Mum and Dad? Weren’t they doing the blue slope?”

“Ah…Actually, they told me they’d meet us at the après-ski when we were done.” They’d pulled him aside to do so, to avoid the risk, so Gavin said, that Mel would make them ski until their legs buckled.

Mel rolled her eyes. “Typical.” But they trudged through the snow toward the wooden building that acted as a bar, nestled on the side of the mountain. The sun was still high in the sky, but already people were sitting outside, sunglasses on, beers in hand, ski jackets stripped off.

“I like them,” Finn said. “Your parents. In case you were wondering.”

“Thanks. I like them too.” She was making light of it now, but he’d seen how nervous she was when they all met at the airport for the first time. She had a coffee cup and wouldn’t stop twisting the lid, so that he was sure she was going to spill it all down herself before they even made it through security. He’d had to ignore it, because she was making him nervous, and when her parents arrived they’d both greeted them a bit too enthusiastically. Thankfully, Eleanor immediately embarked on a story of the chaotic car journey to the airport, and put everyone at ease.

Mel’s family was different from his—not as chaotic. But he was enjoying the moments of peace you got, which was something you had to travel quite far to find on any family holiday of his own. He wondered what it would be like to grow up as an only child—Mel had said, once, that she’d sometimes felt lonely, then immediately contradicted herself by saying everyone felt lonely sometimes, as if she felt guilty for admitting to it.

“You know,” Mel said as they stomped the snow off their boots at the wooden steps, “after this, you’ll have to let me meet your dad—given I shelled out for all of us to come skiing.” Finn grimaced and Mel raised her eyebrows. “He can’t be that bad, surely.”

“He’s not bad so much as…” He gestured hopelessly in midair. He wasn’t sure what word would describe his flaky, unreliable father, the man who could still make Finn laugh. The man who had never settled down, who hid behind calling himself a “free spirit” and used that as an excuse to be selfish, doing whatever he wanted. Who had hurt his mum, over and over. Finn knew he and his dad shared looks, but that it was more than this that people referred to when they said they were alike. He was dreading introducing him to Mel—because would Mel see the similarities too? And did that mean he had the capacity to hurt Mel, like his dad had hurt his mum?

Mel squeezed his hand. “Hey. You know I’m joking, right? You don’t have to introduce me until you’re ready.” And that, he thought, was one of the many brilliant things about Mel. He’d never really explained the thing with his dad—she just got it.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get a beer.”

They managed to find Mel’s parents in what had become their usual spot, right at the edge of the outside terrace area, with a view of the snow-topped peaks.

“Given up skiing for the day, then?” Mel asked as she sat down, sliding a pint of beer over to her dad, while Finn handed Eleanor a white-wine spritzer. They both looked a bit like Mel, he thought. Gavin had Mel’s eyes, or she had his, he supposed. And he could see a lot of her mum in her—the hair, obviously, but the shape of her jaw, the arch of her eyebrows too.

“Oh, we love the skiing,” Eleanor said, smiling her thanks at Finn. “Don’t we, Gavin?”

“Hmm? Yes. Jolly good fun.” He winked at Finn. He was a man of few words, but there was something solid about him—and easily likable.

“But we thought we’d have a little rest,” Eleanor continued. “You are doing marvelously, though—I only wish we could have brought you when you were younger.” Mel waved that away as Eleanor fumbled in her purple ski jacket for her phone. “Now, I’ve used our little break to set myself up on Instagram.”

“Have you now?” Mel asked.

“Yes, and just remind me of the name of this woman—the one who posted about your earrings?”

“Felicia St. James.” Finn had never heard of her before this had all kicked off with Mel—but he had now gathered she had over a million followers on Instagram, more on TikTok and one post from her could, as Mel had proved, change someone’s life.

“Okay, now, how do I friend her?”

Mel took Eleanor’s phone to show her. “You can’t have no photos up, though, Mum. People will think you’re some kind of weird sex addict or have a foot fetish or something.”