Page 12 of The Long Way Home

“Welcome home, darling.”

“I’m not home.” I smile at her politely.

My father stands, gives me a hug that’s rigid and uncomfortable for us both.

“So glad you’re home, darling.”

“I’m not home,” I say again with a curt smile.

Marsaili touches my face with her hands and smiles tenderly before hugging me.

(“Welcome home, Magnolia,” she whispers. “I’m not home,” I whisper back. She gives me a look. “Yes, you are.”)

I sit between Henry and Bushka, squeezing her arm hello.

“Where you been?” She gives me an annoyed look.

My face falters. “New York.”

“Since when?” She frowns.

I glance around the room uncomfortably. “A year almost.” I give her a little look. “You visited me last month? We drove to Bedford to visit Martha Stewart? She made you special Moscow Mules?”

Marsaili gives me a look. “Perhaps one too many?”

“To be fair,” Taura shrugs, “she’s got a heavy hand, that Martha. Loves a good pour.”

“Who doesn’t?” Mum nods appreciatively. “Oh, Magnolia, darling, Henry — this is Enzo.” She gestures to her BOTM who’s just been sitting there, smiling pleasantly.

Just chuffed to be here, old Enzo.

Sort of handsome, I suppose. If you like Euro-trash and bratwurst. I don’t know exactly what I mean by that, but it is apt.

“Magnolia,” he sings my name in a thick Italian accent. “Isa great pleasure to meet the famous tree girl—”

(“What?” I whisper, blinking at my sister, who shakes her head, rubbing her ear. “He’s not excellent at English.”)

Enzo stands to hug me but I hold my hand out to stop him.

“Oh, no, no—” I shake my head as I instead pat his arm gingerly. “Thank you, Enzo. We don’t need to hug. But I’m very happy to meet you—here. Now. On my very first night back in London, at an intimate dinner with my family and best friends.” I give him a cordial smile.

He does a little bow.

Marsaili and I catch eyes.

“Enzo’s number...” my dad starts, counting off on his fingers.

“Harley—” Mars growls.

“??????,” Bushka says at the same time Bridget says, “Eight.”

Mum drinks her wine with tall eyebrows and flaps her hand once to dismiss them all.

“So, have you heard from BJ, darling?”

“I have not,” I tell her, my nose in the air. “Nor shall I.”

Bridget rolls her eyes but I catch it.