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“Yeah.” My palms feel clammy. I put the last bite of my food down. “I like her, Kath. She’s great, and fun and…” I trail off, forgetting my rehearsed speech. “I just really like her. But only if that’s alright with you.”
My sister traces her finger along a mark on the table.
Then suddenly she starts laughing, and I’m left frowning at her in confusion.
“Sam owes me ten quid. I told him you liked her, but he didn’t believe me.”
I groan. Why are my sister and her boyfriend discussing my love life? “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on. You’re always hypercritical of her boyfriends and you’re always asking what she’s up to. At my party last year you spent a good portion of it staring at her. You’re not exactly subtle.”
Huh.
“Anyway,” she says, when she finally stops giggling. “Of course I don’t mind. Ask her out.”
I sit back in my chair in relief. “I can’t believe I’m asking you this, but any advice? Like what’s her favourite flower? Or any major do’s and don’ts.”
Kath claps her hands with glee. “She’s always loved daffodils, but that’s a bit seasonal. She needs to be caffeinated. She enjoys anything arts and crafts.”
As she keeps speaking I wish I’d brought a notebook. My sister is a veritable gold mine of information. I nod as she starts telling me about Claire’s spice tolerance. Then Kath pauses and gives me a long look.
“Don’t fuck it up,” she says, tone suddenly more serious. “All her previous boyfriends have been total jerks. They’re always guys her mum pushes on her.”
Great. Now I’m just thinking about all the ways I could fuck it up. Fantastic sibling support right there.
Chapter 4
Claire
Iloiter around the corner from the café, waiting for my sister. There’s absolutely no way I’m going in to meet Mum without Sophia. I made that mistake once, and I’m still recovering from the uninterrupted ten-minute critique I faced.
Eventually, I spot Sophia’s light brown hair bobbing along the street, a head above the rest of the crowd. I wave maniacally.
“Did I find my keys again?” Sophia greets me, deadpan.
I smirk. “Only after much searching. Luckily for you, you have a generous and selfless older sister who would drop everything to come to your rescue.”
“So lucky.” She rolls her eyes.
“Well, the evening wasn’t a total waste,” I tell her. “I got home, collected a pizza, and bumped into Tom—do you remember Kath’s brother? He came over and watched a film with me.”
“What? Tom came over to yours? Why?”
“He just moved to the area and doesn’t have proper furniture yet.” I look away from her inquiring gaze. “It was nice to catch up with him.”
She lets out a hmm of response, watching my face carefully. But this, along with the “nearly kiss”, isn’t something I want to get into right now. Sophia seems to get it, because she drops the topic as we both turn to look down the street at the café with the same cautious dread normally reserved for a trip to the dentist.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I sigh. “I’m really looking forward to being interrogated about my career choices and the tragic fact that I’m still single.”
I’ve sort of made peace with the fact that we’ll never be right in Mum’s eyes. Or mostly made peace. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to sit through. I have to mentally armour myself before facing two hours of what she calls concern, but what most normal people would categorise as a performance review.
The sad thing is, she doesn’t even realise she’s doing it. Her version of love is just relentless self-improvement, mostly directed at other people. I know she thinks she’s being kind. Which somehow makes it worse, because she really just doesn’t get it when you try to push back.
I give Sophia a once-over before we enter the café, unsnagging some of her hair that’s caught in her collar. She holds my bag whilst I apply another coat of mascara and check my lip gloss again in my pocket mirror. Once I turned up to lunch without makeup on and Mum told me that I wasn’t “representing myself in a good light”.
It stung more than it should’ve done.
