Page 23 of Christmas Is All Around
“Charlotte, dear, we wouldn’t want to leave without saying hello to your young man.”
“Oh my god,” Charlotte said, wishing that quicksand was as omnipresent as the media of her youth had led her to believe. She would pay someone to cause a sinkhole to spontaneously appear beneath her right this second. “He’s not myyoung man.”
“Not all that young, really,” Eloise said cheerfully. “Just turned thirty-three, in fact. One foot in the grave.”
Ava gave her a scathing look. “Ijust turned thirty-three.”
“You wear it much better than my brother,” Eloise assured her.
This seemed to mollify Ava. “It’s the Botox.”
This, at least, was sufficient to distract Charlotte from her current woes. “Since when do you get Botox?” she asked her sister.
Ava sniffed. “Since I spent my twenties acting with my eyebrows.” She paused, considering. “And since I had a baby. I may have gray hairs and spit-up on every single sweater, but at least my forehead is smooth.”
Before Charlotte could respond, Ava brightened, and waved at someone over Charlotte’s shoulder. “Graham! Hello!”
Charlotte turned slowly to find that Graham was, indeed, standing a few feet behind her, holding a paper cup of his own and watching her with an entirely inscrutable expression. “Hello,” she said, pleased to note that she sounded cool and collected, despite the presence of her insane family, which felt like a victory.
“Lane,” he said, nodding at her. He tilted his head sideways toward the lanky redhead standing directly next to him, who was wearing possibly the most well-tailored coat Charlotte had ever seen on a man. “This is Leo.”
“Charlotte,” she said, extending a hand toward him. He shook it firmly with a smile, eyeing her with frank curiosity. His eyes shot over her shoulder, however, and all his interest in Charlotte immediately faded. “Ava Lane?”
Ava blinked. “Yes?”
“Holy shit. I saw you as Lady Macbeth three years ago, and it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life,” he said, reaching over to shake her hand reverently. “You wereincredible.”
Ava, who loved nothing more than meeting a fan—something that happened a surprising amount, considering she acted exclusively on the stage, and had never once appeared on television or in a film—beamed at him. “Thank you,” she said, tossing her hair. “It was one of my favorite roles.”
Graham snapped his fingers. “I knew you looked familiar!” He shook his head. “Leo dragged me to that show.”
Leo regarded his friend with disgust. “You mean to say you’ve metAva Lanemultiple times and not recognized her? You are useless.”
Graham shrugged, unrepentant. “It’s hard to see their faces onstage, you know? We were sitting quite far back.”
“Itoldyou that we needed to book tickets early to get good seats—”
“Yes, yes,” Graham said wearily; this was clearly an argument they’d had a number of times—it had the worn, slightly affectionate quality of well-trod conversational territory.
“Shall we keep walking?” Kit asked now, stamping his feet. “Bit cold out, and all.”
There was a general murmur of agreement, and the group split into pairs and groups of three, introductions being made and chitchat being commenced as they continued their progress down the trail. Charlotte, somehow—through circumstances that she very much doubted were coincidental—ended up walking alongside Graham, slightly behind the rest of the group. She drained her mulled wine, and Graham neatly plucked her empty cup from her hand, stacking his inside it.
“You’re here under duress, I assume?” he said conversationally.
“There are only so many family outings I can skip without seeming like an asshole,” she agreed gloomily. “What about you?” she added, curious. “Did your sister bully you into coming?”
“No.” Was it her imagination, or had his cheeks gone slightly pinker? “I genuinely love Christmas at Kew. We used to come every year as a family.”
“That’s…” “Adorable” was the first word that sprang to mind, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell himthat.
“Nice,” she finished weakly, and he shot her a sideways glance, as if he thought she was being sarcastic. “I mean it!” she protested, raising her hands. “Not everything I say to you is an insult!”
“What a charming change,” he murmured, pausing momentarily to toss their cups in a trash can. He turned back to her. “Anyway, my sisters and I still come every year—Lizzie’s ill tonight, or she’d be here, too—and Leo tags along because we’ve been friends since we were at school and he’s practically a member of the family at this point. For better or for worse,” he added dryly.
“He could probably tell me absolutelyfascinatingstories about you,” she mused. “And your sordid past.”
“Hardly sordid.”
