“I think telling everyone is a great idea, Lottie. You know I’m here for you every step of the way.”
“Thanks, puppy. I really don’t know how I would have done any of this without you. I know I don’t always say it enough, but thank you.”
I risk looking at him; a small smile is tracing over his lips.
I turn back in my seat, facing forward, the expensive leather beneath me squeaking as I go. Then I reach for the radio and turn up the volume, not minding what’s on. I’m not really picky when it comes to music as long as it’s not country. If someone puts that shit on, I’m out.
“Fancy” by Iggy Azalea comes on, my hand tapping on my leg to the opening beat. I stare out the window as Iggy starts singing and nearly drop dead when I hear another voice singing along to the opening rap.
I turn, my eyes not believing themselves as Owen, all wrapped up in the song, sings about being a bad bitch, and I nearly lose it.
His shoulders move up and down to the beat, him not missing a single word of the rap. He’s so into it I don’t think he notices me staring, mouth on the floor.
“I’m sorry, what is going on?” I can’t stop laughing, tears forming behind my eyes from it all. Owen keeps going, finally turning to me when the chorus starts. I assume he’ll be embarrassed at getting lost in the song, but he just grins.
“Oh, come on. Tell me this song isn’t catchy,” he says, his body still moving around. He reaches for the volume and turns it up to max as he continues on.
“I’m so fancy!” Owen yells, to which I join in, no longer wanting to be out of the fun. We both piss ourselves laughing, but he doesn’t lose a single note in the chorus.
Owen turns to me, face serious when the second verse comes on, my body shaking with giggles as he goes off again.
He sings and I join in, surprised I still know all the words. We pull up to a red light, both of us probably looking like loons as we have a rap-off.
I start moving my shoulders to the right then left, and Owen catches on quickly, our dance moves now in sync.
“It’s just the way you like it, huh?” he sings to me and I tap out, no longer able to participate as I’ve died from all of this.
The song finishes up while I’m still in tears, and Owen is looking like the cat who got the cream.
“I have no words,” I tell him, wiping my eyes.
“Who doesn’t love a good sing-along?” he replies.
“What would Ali and Reeve think of your taste in music?” I tease.
He shrugs. “I’d probably be kicked out of the band, so let’s keep this between us two.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
A Destiny’s Child song comes on and off he goes again, giving me the best ride of my life. Car ride, that is.
After arriving at Evie’s, we settle in quickly, with champagne and nibbles all coming our way. I obviously decline the former, feeling slightly guilty at the fact I have yet to tell Evie. It’s a weird feeling considering my own mother doesn’t know about my pregnancy, but one that tells me all I need to know about Evie. She’s comfort; she’s safety.
An hour into the day, we’re sitting in the living room, which is filled with two differently patterned couches and knickknacks littering the walls and side tables. It’s not that it’s messy—Evie would never keep that kind of household. It’s just oozing with character and, well, Evie.
“I can’t believe your brother is late,” Evie says, her face cross.
“What do you expect, Mum?” Owen replies from next to me. “He’s nineteen.”
She shakes her head, shoving anther puff pastry thing into her mouth. I don’t actually know what they are, but they’re delicious.
“He’ll get here, darling,” Steve coos as he comes to sit by her side, topping up her champagne. Smart man.
As if Hugo’s ears were burning, we hear the front door open, and a little replica of Owen walks inside. Hugo is tall and trim but not scrawny, having a mop of golden-blond hair on his head and dark blue eyes like his brother.
But where Owen has the maturity of his twenties and defined angles to his face and arms, Hugo still has that air of youth that hasn’t fully gone away. I have no doubt he has success with the ladies, the smile he gives his mum charming.
“You didn’t tell me your brother was a mini version of you,” I whisper to Owen, grinning.
He gently shoves my side. “I’m more attractive. Remember that.”
I roll my eyes before standing up, ready to meet Hugo. I make sure to pull my jumper down, thankful for its heavy knit.
“You must be the famous Lottie I’ve been hearing so much about,” Hugo says as soon as he stops before me. He gives me a massive smile. Yep, definitely Owen’s brother.
“Only bad things, I hope,” I joke as I cross the room to meet him. He goes in for a bear hug, my mind only catching up as his arms circle my waist. I internally panic before he pulls away and says hi to Owen. Thank God for nineteen-year-old boys. He probably just thinks I’ve eaten too much over the holidays.
“Sorry I’m late. I missed the earlier Tube and couldn’t get back in time.” Hugo studies at Oxford, so he isn’t around as much as Evie would like, but he’s definitely here more than Reeve’s brother, who studies in America.
“You get a pass just this once because it’s Christmas,” Steve says, winking over Evie’s shoulder at Hugo. Despite Owen and Hugo having different fathers, neither of which were Steve, the four
