Page 188 of On Edge

No, Laine is pregnant, and you’re finally happy. I can’t drag you into this. I just wanted to give you this number. Use it for emergencies only, and please stop asking Quinn to find me. I’ll find you when it’s over. x

I’m staring at a stall selling ornaments, thinking about how best to help Nola when she won’t let me, when I feel him behind me.

“You’re a long way from Laine’s.”

I turn. He’s in his long black coat, snowflakes catching in his hair. “How did you find me?”

“You have Ben. There’s a tracker on his collar.” At my expression, he rolls his eyes and adds, “It was for hunting, but I guess it works for stalking too.”

“I’d rather you gave me your bank card.”

“How about you steal it, and I can hunt you down.”

I raise a brow. “Adding kidnapping to your list of crimes?”

His eyes darken. “Always happy to oblige.”

There’s a pause while that sinks in.

Then he reaches over and takes the ornament I’m clutching. It’s a small silver swan. He gives me a look. “I thought you’d be sick of swans by now.”

“It’s for the tree at Grayfleet. If we’re gutting the place, we should at least keep some traditions.”

“One swan?”

“See it as the start of your new collection. We’ll add one every year.”

He pays before I can convince him anymore, then hands it to me. “Your swan. You’ll be wanting mini razors next. How did it go with your mother?”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now.” I look around at the lights, the people, the normalcy of it all. “I just want to pretend that we’re a normal couple out doing Christmassy things.”

“Christmassy things.”

“I have a weakness for anything green and red that smells of cinnamon.”

Troy takes my hand, and we wander through the market. He humors me enough to let me buy him a Santa hat for when he cooks dinner later. He buys me gingerbread that’s too sweet, but I eat it all anyway. I secretly buy him a scarf with bells on it so he can’t sneak up on me for one of his presents. But we’re not normal, no matter how hard we pretend. Troy’s too intense evenwhen he’s trying to be casual, but watching him attempt small talk with a vendor about how spicy mulled wine should be is just what I needed.

“You’re laughing at me.” His green eyes look hurt, but there’s a curve to his lips I’m seeing more and more of.

“Er, you tried to haggle over gingerbread, Mr. Big Deal. Who does that?”

“I negotiate everything.”

“They were two pounds, Troy.”

He hands me the fifty pence piece he saved. “Here. You thank me later, when the renovation bankrupts me.”

I giggle, and it feels light. This is what I needed: an afternoon of festive fun to chase away the ugliness that is my family.

We end up at a pub, tucked into a corner booth…miles away from the screaming kids, Troy tells me. I tell him Laine will have her baby soon, and then he’ll have to get over his aversion to the screaming.

“I’d rather get out of here so I can make you scream.”

He pulls me in for a whiskey kiss and then looks serious for a second. “Tell me what happened with your mother.”

His expression gets darker and darker as I talk. By the time I finish, his knuckles are white around his glass.

“She knew,” he says quietly. “She knew what your father did to you, to my family, to others, and she helped him cover it up.”