Page 61 of From LA to London, With Love

I put my arm around her waist. “Sorry, Mum. I think it was my fault that the candle fell over.”

“That’s okay, darling. It was an accident. And I moved them around this morning when I dusted, so it might have been me. I’m just glad everyone’s safe, and the damage isn’t too bad considering.” She turned to me. “Sophie, look I know I haven’t been the biggest supporter of you and Chris, but getting to know him more today, seeing him interact with everyone, I think I may have been too hasty. He clearly cares about you and Elliot a lot and seems like a genuinely nice young man. And he was a huge help today as well. Your conversation with your grandparents also reminded me that you, too, are an adult and capable of making your own decisions. As you know, your father and I faced lots of opposition from my parents when we got together, and I don’t want to put you in a similar position. My priority is your and Elliot’s happiness, and you’re the best person to know how that should be achieved.”

My chest filled with warmth. “Thanks, Mum. That means a lot.” I gave her a hug, amazed at her change of heart. This had to be the most eventful Diwali yet.

While the fire had been incredibly stressful, there'd also been some huge progress to resolve some ongoing stresses in my life—keeping Elliot secret from my relatives and my mum’s obvious concerns about Chris. One by one, my worries about dating Chris were being checked off, and I was beginning to let myself think that maybe there really was a future for us.

A quiver of excitement, mixed with apprehension, vibrated in my belly. Perhaps our relationship had a chance of being as successful as my parents’ after all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHRIS

“GET OUTTA THE way, Uncle Chris. The turkey’s coming for us!”

I jumped back, making space for my nieces and nephews who were chasing each other with a grotesque blow-up turkey, screaming wildly. Most of the guests had arrived for lunch, and the house was buzzing with energy. Steven and his sister were deep in a spirited discussion in the kitchen about when the actual turkey would be ready. My sisters were talking animatedly with Sophie about something. I had a bad feeling it was me—hopefully not one of their more embarrassing stories. Their husbands were watching football and yelling at the TV. Steven’s dad and Mom were playing with Elliot, who was letting off infectious chuckles on a regular basis. And Lemon, my parents’ anxious black Schnoodle, was hiding upstairs under the bed, not happy about the ruckus.

I smiled as I surveyed the scene. I loved Thanksgiving, and this year was extra special because I had Sophie and Elliot with me.

It was great to be home. I’d blinked back tears last night when I saw Mom and Steven waiting near the barrier at the airport, waving madly. Mom, in her standard cold weather uniform of blue jeans, boots, and a knee-length puffer jacket, had a few more creases around her eyes since I’d seen her last. Steven, a few inches shorter than me, looked much the same as he had for the past decade—gray hair, glasses, and a cardigan, with a warm coat on top. I’d given them massive bear hugs, introduced them to Sophie, and then they’d whisked us back to their home where we’d collapsed into bed.

My phone pinged. It was a photo of Alfie dressed in a ridiculous turkey costume, with a large plume of feathers at his butt. Jenny was pretending to eat him.

Jenny: Happy Thanksgiving, with love from London!

I chuckled. Jenny had volunteered to dog and house sit, and it looked like they were having a ball. I was about to walk over to Sophie to show her, when Steven approached, looking defeated.

“Chris, your aunt has convinced me the turkey needs another thirty minutes. Given we have some time, would you mind helping me get down a box from the attic? We’ve got some toys up there the kids might enjoy once they’ve had enough of this game, which will hopefully be soon!” His look of defeat quickly vanished, replaced with fondness as he watched his grandchildren run in circles around the heavily populated living room.

“Of course!” I was more than happy to help, and I’d been looking for an excuse to spend some time alone with Steven since we arrived. I wanted to talk to him about something.

We made our way up to the hallway on the top floor, where Steven pulled down the folding ladder from the access hole in the ceiling. We clambered up into the dusty attic.

Steven pointed to a stack of boxes in the corner. “The toys should be in one of these. Unfortunately, I didn’t label the boxes, so we’ll have to open them until we find the right one.”

I unstacked a few, and we began sorting through them.

Steven looked up from a box of books. “So, how are you holding up? It’s so good to see you smiling and laughing again. It seems like your plan to start fresh in London might’ve worked?”

“It did, it really did. I actually can’t believe how well it worked out. Within weeks of moving there, I found a house that I absolutely loved and then met Sophie and Elliot. The period drama has also been such a nice change, and apparently I’ve mastered a decent British accent, despite my concerns.” I put a lid on a box of assorted cabling and went to get another one.

“I’m so glad to hear that, Chris. We’re so proud of you for getting back on your feet after such an awful experience. You’ve always been amazingly resilient, even as a little boy.” Steven smiled. Was I imagining it, or was that a tear in his eye? He blinked heavily. “You’ve got another Muscle Man film coming up next year, don’t you? Anything else in the pipeline?”

I took a breath. “Serena has been following me up about potential new roles, but for the first time in my life, I don’t want to squeeze in as many films as possible. I used to love losing myself in different characters and didn’t mind the grueling hours. But now…don’t get me wrong, I still love acting. It’s just…my real life suddenly seems a lot more enjoyable than any role. I want time to actually live it. And hopefully cutting back on work and avoiding blockbuster roles will reduce the media attention on me.” And Sophie and Elliot too, I hoped.

I watched Steven closely for his reaction. He’d always encouraged my interest in acting, spending hours practicing lines with me and driving me to acting classes and auditions. Always there for me, always supporting me. Would he be disappointed if I took a step back from my career after everything he’d done to help it?

Steven smiled at me, and my worries vanished.

“That’s fantastic, Chris! You know, I was offered a job as school principal just around the time things got serious with your mom, and I ended up rejecting it for similar reasons. It would have eaten into my weekends and school holidays with you and Julie—and your sisters too, when they came along. I’ve never regretted it one bit. There’s still some stigma about men stepping back from work to spend time with family or pursue other interests. But, from what I’ve read, most people don’t look back on their lives and wish they’d worked harder. They’re more likely to wish they spent more time with loved ones while they had the chance.”

A flood of gratitude washed over me. I hadn’t realized Steven had given up a promotion for me and Mom and his advice really resonated with me.

I walked over to where he was kneeling over a box and gave him a hug. “Thank you. You always know what to say. And I don’t tell you this enough, but thanks for always being there for me. And it looks like you’ve found the toy box too!”

Steven looked down at the colorful assortment of toys, surprised. “So I have! I guess we better head back, then.”

By the time we got downstairs, the turkey was out of the oven, the table covered with sides, and everyone was taking a seat.