Page 71 of Kiss Me Like You Mean It

‘Honestly, I don’t really know. We were talking about…’ I trail off then, realising I’m going to struggle to tell this story without mentioning Adrian, and for some reason that feels weird. I tell myself not to worry about it – Nico hardly cares about my love life.

‘… the man I was seeing. In London. Gran didn’t approve,’ I finish, the words coming fast.

Nico’s posture stiffens. He opens his mouth then closes it. ‘Why didn’t she approve? Did he… do something?’

‘No!’ I exclaim. ‘He’s a very nice man,’ I add, and Nico’s shoulders, which had just started to come down, seem to tense again. ‘Gran didn’t approve because she thought he was boring.’

This shocks a choked laugh out of Nico. ‘I don’t know why I’m surprised,’ he says. ‘That sounds exactly like her.’

‘I know, and then I got a bit… annoyed, I suppose, because I couldn’t understand her problem with me seeing someone who’s kind and respectful and even-tempered.’

Nico only makes a humming sound that could be agreement or encouragement to continue with the story, and I can’t see his expression because he looks down at his coffee.

‘Anyway, I told her that I didn’t want to be anything like—’

‘Your parents,’ Nico finishes, already nodding. ‘That makes sense. Growing up with the two of them must have been traumatising as fuck.’ There’s no judgement in his tone, and unlike Gran he doesn’t try and reassure me, only listens. Maybe that’s why I find myself opening up.

‘Exactly. I don’t know if she realises how bad it was. I mean, I suppose she must have done because eventually she took me to live with her, but we didn’t ever talk about it.’

Nico frowns. ‘How old were you when you properly moved in with her?’

I tilt my head, considering. ‘Sixteen? It was after Mum and Dad had split up the last time, before they reconciled again six months later. They’d had a huge row, absolutely trashed the house – it looked like a hurricane had been through. The neighbours called the police but Dad managed to smooth that all out before he left. Gran found me the next morning trying to clean everything up, and Mum refused to get out of bed. Gran took one look at all the broken furniture, the empty bottles, the smashed-up china and told me to pack my bags.’

Nico looks stunned. ‘I didn’t know any of this.’

I shrug. ‘Why would you? Jack was at uni, you were travelling.’

‘Did Jack know?’ Nico’s voice is gruff.

‘I don’t think he realised I’d properly moved out at that point,’ I say. ‘And I didn’t want to tell him. You know how hard Mum and Dad were on him, wanting him to be part of their grand acting dynasty. It was awful the way they treated him, and he didn’t need me piling on with my problems. I could tell he was struggling, but I couldn’t do anything. It was horrible. Mum and Dad were… addicted to their own drama, I suppose, and I didn’t know how to cope with being around it.’

‘You were just a kid.’

‘I suppose. I didn’t feel like one at the time. Anyway, because I’d skipped a year at school everyone knew I’d be applying to universities soon enough. At first they all thought I’d go away to study, but I wasn’t ready for that. I liked living with Gran, I felt safe… steady for the first time. And there are great universities in London.’ I manage a small smile. ‘Mum and Dad were pretty pissed off that I turned down Cambridge. Choosing my own university was the first thing I ever did for myself, and Gran went to battle for me. She told them both to back off… only in much less polite language.’

Nico manages a smile. ‘I can imagine.’

‘When I finished uni and moved out of Gran’s place I really missed her,’ I confess. ‘So later, when she started needing a bit more help, it made sense for us to buy a place together.’

‘And this argument you had was about… the man you’ve been seeing?’ Nico asks carefully.

‘It started that way,’ I sigh, ‘but it led to her making some less than welcome remarks about my behaviour and general demeanour. And I think she’s frustrated because she feels like I’m hovering over her. Which…’ I exhale. ‘I probably am. But I don’t think she gets how scary it was for us last year when she…’

‘Yeah,’ Nico agrees, and I know that, like me, he’s remembering Gran, small and frail and suddenly old in that hospital bed, hooked up to a bunch of machines.

‘Maybe there were things that we’d both been bottling up.’ I shrug helplessly. ‘When you – or rather Phoebe – sent me that plane ticket it seemed like an opportunity to escape. Like the space would be good for both of us.’

‘Hopefully it will,’ Nico says, but there’s still a pinched groove between his brows.

‘So,’ I say eventually, trying to make the words sound light, ‘tonight’s our last night of freedom then. We can spend all day tomorrow getting ready for this Charles Saunders. I’m organising your whole house. He’s going to be deeply impressed.’

Nico groans, but his expression lightens. ‘You’re about to colour code my spice rack, aren’t you?’

‘Obviously not!’ I huff. ‘What sort of a system is that? I’ll alphabetise it.’

He laughs (even though I’m not joking) and we go back to our lunch.

Later, while he’s nagging Phoebe to get ready for bed, I call through to him from the kitchen, ‘Nico, where are your table linens?’