Page 90 of Short Stack 3

I blink. The last time I saw a sibling relationship with Jack and Arlo’s vibe, I was watchingGame of Thrones. I refrain from mentioning it, though. I’m not sure what he’d think of me matchmaking his brother and his best friend. Although very discerning with most things, I’ve noticed that Tom can bestartlingly oblivious to others, namely whatever is going on with Arlo and Jack lately.

I dismiss that as a concern for another day and turn over, feeling him snuggle up behind me. “How long have we got?” I say, giving a huge yawn before I can stop myself. I’m too tired to even reach for my glasses on the table.

“We’ve got time for a nap. We’re meeting for dinner at seven, and then we’re having an early night.”

I yawn again, feeling the stretch in my jaw. “I can’t work out why I’m so tired.”

“Maybe because you’ve been going hell for leather on that uni project, and then we had to travel to Oxford for the early Christmas with your dad.”

“Your dinner was lovely, but I think the least said the better about the dessert.”

He snorts. “I’m sure some people would like mayonnaise with their Christmas pudding. I’m just at a bit of a loss as to who they are.”

“They’re all safely locked away out of harm’s reach of the general public.” I shake my head. “How could my dad possibly mix up cream and mayonnaise? And did you notice he actually ate it?” He makes a retching noise. “He’s the ditsiest person I’ve ever met.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing, my love.”

I pinch his arm, chuckling at his theatrical gasp. “Are you sorry you didn’t see your mum and dad before we left?”

There’s a slightly too-long pause. “No,” he finally says. “Of course not. We’ll see them at New Year.”

“You sure? Maybe we should give them a call.”

“No.”

I jerk. “Bloody hell, Tom. Inside voice, please.”

“Sorry.” He kisses my ear. “You won’t get them anyway. They’re away.”

“Are they? You never told me that. Where have they gone?”

“Oh, erm—” The silence lengthens. “Mexico.”

“Really? We saw them last week, and they never said they were going on a trip.”

“It probably slipped their minds.”

That’s perfectly reasonable. Quite a lot seems to slip Tom’s parents’ minds, but I adore them. They’re warm, funny, and all-round amazing people who’ve welcomed me into the family enthusiastically. Still, I get that sense again of something unsaid with Tom. There are currents swirling around me that I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Okay,” I say, giving up when he stays silent. He’s as stubborn as a mule, and he’ll dig his heels in if I push him.

I reach for his hand and kiss his fingers. Then I settle into the pillows, feeling the expensive sheets on my body and letting my tiredness take me under.

I wake up when he kisses my neck, nuzzling under my hair. “You awake in there?” he says, his voice sexily hoarse.

“I think so,” I mumble.

He falls back into the covers, and I come up on one elbow. “Do you want the first shower?”

He winks. “How about we share? You know how I’m hyper-focused on water waste.”

I smirk at him. “Me too.Whata coincidence.”

I climb out of bed, feeling the warmth of the room with pleasure. Our house needs a new boiler, and it’s very chilly, which seems to mostly suit Tom, who has an aversion to being too hot. In my opinion, a polar bear would baulk at walking on our cold floors. I wander to the window instead of the bathroom, drawn by the soft light filtering through the blind. I raise the blind and gasp. “Oh, this is so pretty, Tom.”

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