Page 4

He was a man. Of course he’d noticed.

“Come on, Colin told us we have to take a photo.” She angled her phone and indicated for him to join her in the selfie. He composed his face into something he thought resembled, if not a smile, then at least not a grimace.

As she tucked her phone back into her pocket, she cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Getting the biggest tree possible. I know it made it harder to strap to the car, and harder to bring in and put in the stand.”

He found it too hard to look into those pretty blue eyes when they were being kind. “It’ll also make it harder to decorate.”

“I know.” She swallowed. “It was always something we did together, Colin and me. Even as adults, we kept up the tradition. He’d do the high branches, I’d do the low ones, but then I’d get carried away and head into his territory.” She let out a sad sounding sigh. “We had so much fun.” Her gaze turned to his. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever decorated a tree.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You don’t look the sort. I bet even as a kid you were too cool to want to put tinsel on a Christmas tree.”

No, he wasn’t going to think of Christmases growing up. “You admit I’m cool then?”

He received an exaggerated eye roll. “Cool or not, if I know my brother, tomorrow you’ll be decorating this tree with me.”

He thought she was probably right. In his last few weeks on this planet, it seemed like his best friend had decided to conjure up twenty-four ways to torture him.

December 2nd

Anna brushed the hair from her eyes—bedhead hair was the worst—before filling the coffee maker and pressing start.

While she waited for it to produce the magic, her gaze skirted over to the advent calendar. Did she open day two now, or wait for Luke?

Like he’d be bothered either way.

It was funny, despite how close she’d been with her brother, she’d spent very little time with Luke, before now. He’d always been around, but in the distance. A boy her brother would mention non-stop at the dinner table, then go off and play with most evenings and weekends. An adolescent he’d go partying with, pick up girls with, if Colin’s tales the following morning were to be believed. On the rare occasions Luke had come to theirs, she’d tried making conversation, but there were only so many monosyllabic answers a girl could receive before she gave up. As Colin had grown up and moved away, she’d seen even less of Luke, though she heard his name a lot when Colin would talk of the boys’ trips he’d been on. The vacations spent hiking and camping.

She’d always known of Luke, but never really got to know him.

“Is that why you devised this advent calendar?” She mused out loud. Colin might be dead, but it wasn’t going to stop her talking to him. “Was it your way of connecting two people who were important to you? Your way of helping us grieve? And if it was, couldn’t you have found me someone more . . .” She wasn’t sure of the right word. Compassionate? Warm? Talkative?

Behind her came the gravelly sound of a throat being cleared. “More what?”

She twisted her head to find Luke in the doorway, arms stretched above his head, hands resting on the doorframe. Jogging bottoms low enough on his hips that he revealed a stretch of taut, tanned stomach.

Deep in her belly, she felt an annoying flutter. So, the man was attractive. And very possibly ripped. It didn’t make him someone she wanted to spend time with. It certainly didn’t make him someone who could help ease the painful ache in her heart.

“More heavy on his feet, so I can hear him coming,” she mumbled. “Did you want some coffee?”

He pulled a face, walked over to the box of teabags he’d stashed on the side when he’d first moved in, and plucked out a bag. After dropping it into a cup, he filled the stovetop kettle and lit the gas under it.

“How long have you lived in America?” She asked as she poured herself a mug of brown nectar and added a dash of cream from the fridge. The drink of Gods, of champions.

“Since I was ten.”

“So twenty . . . two years?” She guessed he was the same age as Colin as they’d been to school together. Luke nodded. He’d clearly just woken up too, yet he looked just like he always did. Hair so short it didn’t need a comb. Green eyes bright and clear, piercing. Eyes that saw everything, including the things you didn’t want him to see. “So why are you still so English?”

“Mum was English.” He said, like it explained everything.

Was. She knew he had no dad, but now she thought about it, she had a dim memory of Colin mentioning Luke’s mom had died . . . had he still been at school then? ‘When did she pass?”

Luke’s jaw tightened. “Fifteen years ago.”