Page 12 of Strawberry Moon
“She’ll love you,” he says.
I struggle to remember what we were talking about. “Really?”
“Yes. You’ll fit in very well with my family.”
“I am a little nervous,” I confide, turning in my seat to face him. “I’ve never met anyone’s parents before. I know it’s fictional, but I want to be the best pretend boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
He snorts. “Well, there isn’t much competition. You’ll be the only pretend boyfriend I’ve ever had.”
I grin. “I like having an empty playing field.”
“Not level?”
“Nope. Completely devoid of any competition.”
He laughs and then sobers. “You’ll be perfect,” he says quietly. “You’re bright, clever, and very funny. You light up a room, and they’re going to love you.”
I open my mouth to say something sassy, but then I notice the red tinge on his cheekbones. Even his ears are scarlet, and I feel a wave of protectiveness towards him, so I say quickly, “So your mum is Holly. Your dad?”
“Graham. He owns an engineering firm. He’s a big bloke and a bit gruff, but he’s very kind underneath.”
“I like people who are a surprise. What about sisters or brothers?”
“Ah, I have four brothers and one sister.”
“How did I not know that? What the fuck?” I gape at him. “Are there no televisions in Norfolk?”
He laughs. “I don’t wish to think too closely on why I have so many siblings. Anyway, you won’t meet them. I’m doing the family wedding duty because it’s my turn.”
“You take turns? We just have to go to everything. A wedding invitation is like a three-line whip in our house.”
“Not in ours. There are too many of us. My mum was one of eight and I have thirty cousins.”
“You’ve got the numbers for a cult.”
“It would be a very polite one where we made a virtue out of looking on the bright side.”
I laugh. “And it’s your cousin getting married. What’s her name?”
“Coco. And beyond that piece of info, I don’t know anything more. I haven’t met her since she was a baby.”
“If you’d had more time to concoct a plan, you could have paid someone to go instead of me. Like a hooker.”
“Were those my only options in life?” he says, smirking. He shoots me a quick glance, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t think a hooker would be better than you.”
“Your bar seems to be set alarmingly low. And what’s with thethink?”
He laughs but then stops and clears his throat. “You won’t need to worry about sleeping arrangements.”
My mouth grows dry at the very thought. “I wasn’t?—”
“My parents are a bit old-fashioned,” he interrupts in a nervous tone. “And they don’t let you share a bed under their roof until you’re married. So, you’ll be put in the spare room.”
That is possibly the worst news I’ve heard all week, but I keep that thought to myself.
He clicks the indicator. “We’re here.”
I sit up and look out the window as he turns down a narrow, gravel drive. It’s edged with trees and huge hydrangea bushes with flowers that are a blaze of colour. The drive comes out in front of an old house made of grey stone. After Harry stops the car, I note more details. The house is three storeys tall with a sloping roof and windows that sparkle in the late afternoon sunlight. Loud birdsong drifts into the car’s open windows.
