The cousin freezes like she’s just been slapped with a cold fish. Her companion coughs awkwardly. They both go red and shuffle off towards the toilets.
Joan snorts. “Honestly. Whispering like we’re in bloody school.”
Stella is mortified. “Joan—”
“No, no. Let me finish,” Joan says, turning to her properly now. “You listen to me, darling. Everyone’s just jealous you’ve found yourself a proper good one.”
Stella tries to smile, but it wobbles at the edges. Joan catches it.
“Don’t let people put rot in your head. You’re allowed to be happy. And you deserve it. Simple as that.”
Stella’s quiet. Her fingers tighten around mine, just for a moment.
I want to say something — thank you, maybe — but Joan’s already waving me off and asking if I know how to foxtrot because the band’s starting again.
Chapter 16
Stella
Callum is at theother end of the hall, laughing with Joan as he helps her balance three gin and tonics in plastic cups. He looks maddeningly good — casual, calm, solid. Like he belongs here, like he’s not the reason half the family has been buzzing all night.
The hall is full to bursting. Trays of sausage rolls, triangles of cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks, a pile of children ignoring the music in favour of terrorising a balloon in the corner. Fairy lights blink unevenly above us, and the air is a heady mix of prosecco and carpet cleaner. The sound system’s working overtime to mangleDancing Queeninto a staticky mess.
Aunt Joan is thriving.
Callum, to his credit, is holding his own. He’s in black jeans and a fitted T-shirt, tattoos unapologetically on show, somehow managing to look like he both belongs here and clearly doesn’t. Which, judging by the sideways glances and careful curiosity of some of the guests, is exactly how he’s being received.
People are polite, of course. But this is a village where nothing happens, even less than at Little Hadlow. People notice everything, and they’re never afraid of a bit of gossip if it’s presented with a Scotch egg.
Still, Callum stays close. He smiles when he should, keeps his hand near mine in case I need it. He gives me the confidence to stand on my own rather than trying to control me. The realisation makes my heart race. I force the feelings that have been building for weeks back down, terrified that blurting out love too soon might scare him away.
Callum returns with a another glass of Prosecco for me when the hall doors open.
I turn to see who’s arrived — and freeze.
“Vicky?” I blink. “What—?”
She’s already weaving through the crowd, long coat flapping, hair in a loose plait. “Surprise!”
I hug her tight, confusion and affection mixing in a dizzying rush. “I thought you had a deadline.”
“I finished early. And… Dad offered me a lift.”
My chest tightens.
Sure enough, Jeremy follows behind her, nodding likehe’s just walked into a boardroom he owns. His smile is affable. Empty. Like he’s never once made my stomach clench in dread.
Callum stiffens next to me, one arm curling instinctively around my waist.
Joan spots Vicky in an instant. “Ah! Look what the cat’s dragged in. Vicky, sweetheart, meet your mum’svery handsomenew boyfriend. This is Callum Wright.”
Vicky’s smile flickers, startled. “Wait…boyfriend?”
She looks between us. First at me, then at Callum, then back again. And slowly, a grin starts to spread.
“Oh,” she says, under her breath. “Okay. Right.”
She steps forward, extending a hand. “Lovely to meet you.”
