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Dinner
Now
“This isn’t Dani’s,” I state, somewhat unnecessarily when we pull up outside an unfamiliar house. I’m sure Freddy knows where his sister-in-law lives. Give the guy some credit.
“Dinner’s not at Dani’s,” he says, switching off the engine and turning to face me. “It’s at Henry’s.”
Isaac gives a little whoop, which reminds me he is even there. I’ve spent the short journey staring at Freddy’s jean clad thighs. I need to get a grip.
“Henry’s? Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t have come.” I fold my hands resolutely across my chest and a slow smile lifts the corner of Freddy’s mouth. I watch it for slightly longer than is appropriate.
“I’m guessing, Amber…” He raises an eyebrow. God, it kills me when he says my name.“That’s why she didn’t tell you.”
With that, he gets out of the car and walks around to my side. I watch him in the wing mirror; he looks mighty fine in dark jeans and the vibrant red t-shirt. Pulling open my door, he waits for me to get out. I don’t move.
“Mum, have you forgotten how to open doors?” Isaac queries, looking at me in confusion as he clambers from behind my seat. I realise now he hasn’t been wearing a seatbelt on the non-standard sized back seat, which is little more than a small bench.What sort of mother am I?
I roll my eyes at him but stay still, sat in my seat. Isaac runs up the path, knocks on the door and is allowed in. A woman I don’t know peers down the drive to the car but then sees Freddy and shrugs, shutting the door on us.
Slowly, Freddy folds into a crouch next to my door. “Are you really not going to come in?” He balances himself with one hand placed on the seat, next to my leg.
“Henry makes me feel like a dick.” Freddy’s older brother always made his disdain for me acutely clear. Especially in the days after the accident when I was to blame for Freddy being late to the race and unable to check his own car.
Freddy shakes his head. “No, Henry made the eighteen-year-old you feel like a dick, and truth is, Amber, I don’t know why. We all know he’s an arse.”
I allow a small smile to escape. “Is he still an arse?”
“Totally, but we’ve just learned to ignore him. Do you think you can do the same for one night?”
I give a dramatic, overplayed sigh. “Okay, I can do that.”
Freddy grins. “Good, now can you help me up? My knee gets stuck if I keep this up for too long.”
“Oh my god, why did you do that?” I unbuckle and jump out of the car, holding both of my hands out for him to catch hold of.
His fingers grip mine tight, their strong touch familiar, the rough edge of his skin releasing a torrent of memories. A flash of discomfort winces his face as he straightens his legs. “Thanks for coming to dinner.” His hands still hold mine.
“You’re welcome. Thanks for having me to your family dinner.” I glance up and meet his eyes. The sun is sinking on the horizon and it illuminates him with a golden hue, turning his hair into strands of glimmering fire and morphing man into part angel.
“Ready?” He motions to the door with a small nod of his head, his eyes keenly measuring my reactions. I motion a nervous agreement, my mouth too dry to speak, and in no particular hurry, we walk to the front door, his hand still holding mine.
The house is an old cottage with small lead windows and peeling paint. It’s the sort of home I’d like if I weren’t stuck living inside a hunk of concrete looking after mum, and actually had substantial funds to buy such a property. I know I never will.
At the other side of the latched door it sounds like all hell is breaking loose. Kids running, dogs barking, adults shouting, and in the background some terrible music tying the whole shebang together.
“Bailey, I told you to turn that down.” Henry walks through wiping his hands on a tea towel, a frown on his face. He comes to a halt when he sees me cowering by the front door. “Ah, Amber French returns at last.”
Dickwad.
“Here I am,” I respond as lightly as I can.
‘Amber,” booms a voice from deep inside the house.
Spinning, I turn to find Freddy. “Is your dad here?”
“It’s a BBQ, and there’s steak and cold beer; of course he’s here.” His eyes dance as he smiles with his words. It’s the first time I’ve seen it since I got home.
I focus on the ocean blues, losing myself in their depths until Charles Bales’ voice jogs me into looking for him and not drooling over his son.
