“Oh my god, what took you so long? Mini Coop just about shrivelled up and died of hunger waiting for you to get back.”

“Sorry, I had to go to the bathroom.”

“Well, is he joining us? Because if not I am so eating his share,” Holly asks and then narrows her eyes on me as she glances between my clothing and face. Her mouth gapes open as her eyes zero in on something. I follow her gaze and realise that, in my haste to leave Elijah’s room, I’ve put my singlet on inside out. “Oh my god! Did you? Did he? Did the two of you finally bump uglies?”

“Will you keep your voice down, please?” I slip it off and turn it the right way out before Jack comes running to find out what all the fuss is about and draws the same conclusions as Holly. In fact, why stop at just my housemates? Why not have a giant neon sign made up that says I’m a dirty slut who takes her clothes off so her ex-boyfriend can get a glimpse at the goodies as he jerks off, so the whole town can see it? Oh, right, the town already thinks I’m a slut, so I guess I can probably save my money and forgo the sign.

“No. I did not have sex with him.” I go about throwing my ingredients into the bowl and mixing up the batter.

“Well, then why does your sweet little face look so goddamn guilty, Ana?

“Because I might have done something I shouldn’t have. Now can we please stop talking about this?”

As usual, Holly ignores me. “Hell no! I want details, what did you do?”

“I walked in on him.”

“You walked in on him? Walked in on him what?”

“You know,” I say and give her the wide-eyed head nod that comes with letting someone fill in the blanks.

“Holy shit, did you walk in on him jerking his chain?”

We hear someone clear their throat behind us and spin around to find Elijah—in only a pair of faded old jeans, his hair still damp from his shower and looking every bit as enticing as he was in his room just moments ago—leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Mornin’ ladies.”

Holly folds her arms and leans back against the counter opposite him. “And what a glorious morning it is.”

I turn back to my batter and whisper in an aside, “Would you please stop referring to his morning glory?”

“That it is,” Elijah shoots back, and I know without even having to look at him that the smug smile is back on his face. “A perfect morning, in fact.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re all sitting around our kitchen table eating pancakes. I look at my flatmates and think that we may be an unconventional family and we might fight and scream and yes, admittedly some of us might want to tear one another’s clothes off from time to time, but we are just that—a family. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.

Elijah’s eyes lock with mine across the table, and instead of seeing the intense heat he’s been spearing me with all morning, I see them soften in a silent question; are we okay? I smile back at him. It’s not seductive, coy or even playful; it’s the kind of smile I’ve been giving Holly since the day we met. It’s the same smile I give Jack when he says something so unbelievably stupid that I burst out laughing. The same smile I give Sammy when he gets the green light to leave the bench and join the game in rugby. And the same smile I give to my dad when he’s being a pigheaded, bull of a man who suddenly quits yelling and guffaws out loud mid-sentence because he can see what a shit he’s being.

It’s love in its purest and unsullied form, without desire and sex and greed and complication. It’s just love.

Are we okay?

We’re better than okay.

We’re home.

Chapter Thirty Six

Elijah

Christmas morning I’d been woken just after six by two girls bouncing around half naked on my bed. No, it’s not as naughty as it sounds, and yes, do I ever wish it had been. Ana and Holly had been like little kids, giggling, jumping up and down and screaming that Santa had come while we’d slept.

I’d mumbled some half-arse reply about him coming again if they kept jumping around in their underwear and they’d laid into me with their tiny fists of fury. Which, surprisingly, had hurt more than it should have. Then they’d dragged me and Jackson out to the living room to exchange gifts under the tree with bleary eyes and hangovers from hell.

We’d all gone a little nuts this year, pooling our money together to buy one another gifts. Ana had been harping on for ages about buying herself some overpriced fancy electric beater, and I’d gone with Holly earlier in the week to pick one out. She’d been over the freaking moon when she unwrapped that sucker and Holly had already requested a long list of baked goods to come from it.

I had something else small for her, but I wanted to wait until we were alone before I gave it to her. It wasn’t much, but it meant the world to me, and I hoped it would mean the same for her, too.

Holly had been given a new car stereo, which we’d fitted last night, but the excitement she’d felt over that little piece of machinery was swallowed completely when Jackson hurried off to his room to get “something” and came back pushing a baby cot he’d made and painted himself.

Jackson got a new toolkit and I was the proud new owner of a bottle of Blue Label Johnnie Walker. Best fucking Christmas I ever had, and the sun hadn’t even risen properly yet.

Now, I groan and sit back in my seat, waiting for the food coma to take me under. While the rest of us had gone back to bed, Ana had been dashing around the kitchen like a blue-arsed fly. She’d made Christmas lunch for the whole family and still managed to look like a fucking goddess in her little white cherry dress.

Sammy’s sitting beside me shoving asparagus spears up his nose and pretending to be a walrus. Fuck, I love that kid. He’s like six-year-old me with ADHD. He shoots one of the veggies out of his nose and giggles hysterically, and then from out of nowhere he turns to me and asks, “Hey Lighie, do you and Ana Cabana thleep in the thame bed?”

I choke on my beer. How to answer this one without having Bob cave my head in with his meaty fist? “Er …”

“Sammy!” Ana chastises.

Holly’s laughing her pregnant arse off. Jackson’s shaking his head and Bob’s turned white as a sheet. He’s been eyeing me suspiciously from the head of the table throughout the entire meal, probably because I’ve been staring at Ana like I want to put her over my knee and spank her for making my naughty list this year. I feel my mouth tip up in a crooked smile as Ana’s apologetic gaze meets mine.

“What? I wath just athking if you guyth ever have thleepoverth. When I’m growd up I’m gonna have thleepoverth wif girlth all the time.”

I bump my fist with his tiny one and say, “I don’t doubt that at all, little man.”

“Please do not encourage him. The women of Sugartown are still recovering from you two—” Ana points to me and Jack “—they’re definitely not ready for Sam Belle.”

I laugh. “You just stick with me, mate. When you’re old enough, I’ll teach you everything I know.”

“And the women will run away screaming,” Holly deadpans.

“Ah, but it’s what they’re screaming that counts.”

Ana shoots up out of her chair. “Who wants dessert?”

Everyone mutters their approval and Ana hurries off to the kitchen. I follow after her. Despite the fact that it’s thirty-four degrees outside, she pulls a couple of pies out of the oven and places them on the bench.

“Holy shit, that smells amazing,” I say, breathing in the sweet, homey smell of caramel, pecans and pie crust. “Need some help?”

She just glares at me, so I get to work pulling out bowls and cutlery and the ice-cream from the freezer. As she serves, she sings along to some folky, sweet-sounding song playing from the stereo—thank fuck it’s not Christmassy—and she sounds terrible. Kinda like a cat in heat, but when I look over she’s swaying her hips in a way that makes me want to dance with her. I don’t. Because I’m an Aussie bloke and we don’t fucking dance. Ever. But that doesn’t stop me from fantasising about sliding my hands from her waist to her sexy-as-fuck full hips and down to her completely fuckable arse and back up again.

I move closer and she glances up at me. I half expect her to rim me out for not helping but there’s a hint of curiosity in her gaze. “I have something for you.”

“For me?”

I nod. “It’s my real gift to you.”

She arches her brow and twists her lips into a disapproving frown, like she expects me to whip out my cock and dangle it before her. “Okay, I so do not have time for this.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, dirty girl,” I tease and then I make out like I’m going to kiss her as I lean over and hook my hands behind her neck. It takes some effort to get the tiny clasp to open and then close on account of my giant hands, but eventually the necklace complies and I let its weight fall and rest against her chest. I step back and allow her to take in her new gift.

A tiny golden swallow rests on a gold chain, just above the line of her cleavage. It’s just as perfect on her as it was on its previous owner—maybe more perfect, and seeing it again on someone so beautiful makes me smile like the cat that didn’t just get the cream, he got the whole fucking carton.

Ana runs her fingers over the swallow and tests its weight in her hand. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was Lil’s. It’s been taped under the seat of my bike since she died. I had a jeweller clean it up and fit it with a new chain a couple weeks back.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t accept this.”

“Yeah, you can.”