“Yes. Although, he wasn’t around much. He was working. Trying to feed us and keep a roof over our heads. Technically, I raised myself.”

“What about Christmas lunch?”

“We didn’t have a turkey or anything like that. I can’t remember even wanting one. Neither of us would have had the first clue what to do with it. I can’t even remember what we ate to be honest. Normal stuff.”

“Do you miss him?”

It was a while before he answered. “Yes,” he said finally. “Which makes no sense because he’s been gone for seven years, and it’s not as if we were ever really close.” He kissed her forehead. “You realize I’m saying this so you’ll feel sorry for me and try and make me feel better. And by the way, if you want to do that, I have a few suggestions.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “I like the fact you’re telling me things. I want to know everything there is to know.” Already she felt closer to him, and she saw that they didn’t do enough of this. So often their conversations revolved around the practical. Can you pick up milk on your way home? or Did you remember to lock the front door? Discovery conversations, conversations where they shared their thoughts, were thin on the ground. But maybe that was enough about his past for now. They had time. Plenty of time. “Tell me more about the job. Is it something you want or something to pay the bills?”

“It’s something I want. It would be my dream job, I suppose. Account director. Up-and-coming agency. Growing fast, which is good. Young team. Full of energy, and no sense of This is the way we’ve always done things. They’re keen to innovate. Digital media is key.”

“Well, that sounds great.” She felt a rush of optimism and also relief that he wasn’t taking something simply because he felt responsible for her and Holly. “Perfect for you.”

“The important thing is that they think I’m perfect for them.” He paused. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s never mattered like this before. What if I don’t get it?”

She’d never heard him anything less than confident before, and it shook her. “I—”

“Forget I said that.” He stroked a hand over her hair. “It will be fine. Everything will be fine.”

What he was really saying was that he shouldn’t have shared his anxiety, and that was her fault because she’d somehow led him to believe she couldn’t handle it. But she could. She had to.

“I don’t want you to pretend or put on an act, Seb. I want to know what you’re feeling.”

He gave a crooked smile. “You probably don’t.”

“I do.” She could see he was panicking, and deep down she was panicking, too, and not only because their relationship still felt fragile and shaky. They’d been together for five years, and yet this felt new. Her whole life felt uncertain and unpredictable—What if he didn’t get the job? What would that mean for them?—and she wasn’t used to it feeling that way. She was used to planning every second of her day. To controlling how her life looked, to ironing out the ups and downs. She’d had a picture of what her life was going to be, and now it felt as if it was slipping away, and she wanted to grab it and fix it and keep it safe, but she didn’t know how to do that or even if she wanted to. Even the way they were talking, the thoughts they were sharing, felt new.