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I raise an eyebrow. He pushes out his lips.
“About Faez?” I can barely say his name.
He nods.
I shake my head. “It may be nothing, so no point in worrying her now.”
“What if there is something to worry about? Cress deserves to know.”
The darts from my eyes should be lethal. The more he pushes, the more I resist.
“Not now. Maybe not ever.”
He gets up, walks into the foyer, and grabs his coat. “Tired of this, Max. Get out of your cave and into the sunlight.” He leaves, letting the door slam from the wind.
He’s fed up with me. I’m fed up to the back teeth with myself. Major arsehole. I need to figure how to climb out of the grave I’ve dug without telling her all of the truth.
ChapterFour
Max
In the early morning gloom, I sit on the lounge sofa, glaring at the iPad set up on the cocktail table. This early morning video call knocks me for six.
Boxes filled with faces stare back at me. Kind of like the old game show,Celebrity Squares. Now the 1970s have invaded in the twenty-first century internet disguised as Zoom. Usually we Skype, but we are trying this out.
“Pardon. Did you say you have moved the party venue?” I put on my most ferocious scowl, which only causes general laughter.
Dad leans forward, eclipsing mum as he nods his big, close-cropped head. “RAF Club, London.” Mum glares around him, and he subsides to give her equal space in their screen box.
Thumbs-up appear in every square but mine. Watching yourself on a screen is so weird. Emotions scroll over my face—confusion, anger, resignation. I settle on the scowl.
“Vedi sebya khorosho. Ty delayesh’ slona iz mukhi.” My siblings chuckle.
Cress clatters down the stairs and staggers into the lounge. “What did your mom say?”
“Mum is telling me to behave myself.”
“Listen to your mom, Max.” She laughs.
Even with her hair piled on top of her head, a stretched-out turquoise pullover hanging down to her knees, and sleeves brushing her knuckles, she makes my heart pound. A squirming Dorothy is cradled in her arms. When the restive cat nips her wrist, Cress drops her to floor. “I’ve told you not to bite, Dorothy.” The cat stalks off, unrepentant. Then she focuses on my family and scrunches her face in apology.
“Don’t make an elephant out of a fly,” Mum says.
Puzzlement spreads over Cress’ face as I breathe into her ear, so she can hear me through the wave of hilarity that erupts. “It’s a Russian saying. We’d say don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.”
“What molehill?”
Meggy takes it upon herself to explain. “A change of plans. We’re going to celebrate Dad’s birthday in London.”
Instead of looking at the screen, Cress turns to me. “Does that mean we aren’t going to Scotland?”
“Of course you’re coming to Scotland.” Dad’s voice is full of consternation. “Party in London, then a week in the Highlands. We can’t wait to see you, lass.”
“But…but…but…” My face heats and I brush hair back from my sweaty forehead.
“No buts.” Ian grins from another box. He lounges on a sofa in his Homewood Suites extended stay flat, legs dangling off the end. As the temporary British consul in Chicago, it’s his home away from home. “Change your London arrangements.”
My glare should turn him to stone, but the smirk remains. He knows about my plans, which include romancing Cress whenever I can. None of it is compatible with an all-family extravaganza. I planned to introduce Cress to the glories of the Milestone Hotel. I booked the Harlequin Room especially for her. I clamp my mouth shut.
