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“Nothing.” She shifted in her seat. “How’re things at the ski resort? I’ve not been up there in ages.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Fine.” As if he’d disclose anything with her stuck-up attitude.

Maya glanced over. “Busy?”

“Yeah.” Busy didn’t cut it. Sometimes he felt as if he was going to snap in two under the recent pressure. He cleared his throat. “How’s Hana?” That was a nice, neutral question at least.

“Great,” Maya said, her voice flat. “She’s the youngest partner in her law firm, and she and Rosie are engaged now, living in a massive mansion down in Thatched-Roof-Ville, southern England.”

It might have been his imagination, but she sounded a little bitter about it. He eyed her. “Not a fan of thatched roofs, myself. Too much of a fire hazard if you ask me.”

Another small smile played about her lips, and he took it as a tiny victory. “Indeed. What about your mum? She doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied, with a cautious smile. “She and Angus are getting on well.”

“He seems like a nice guy. I bumped into the two of them last time I was home.”

“He is,” Sam said, grateful that his mum had finally found a man who could be described that way, after being with his douchebag father, followed by years alone. “She deserves someone nice.” Family seemed like a safe topic to stay on. “Are your parents keeping okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. Same old.”

“They’ll be looking forward to having you home for a while.”

She let out a brief laugh. “I think Dad’s particularly looking forward to lecturing me about my lack of five-year plan to be the highest-flying accountant the world has ever seen.”

A rueful smile tugged at his mouth. Dr. Omar Bashir was renowned for driving his daughters hard, ambition-wise. Omar had double standards where they were concerned, and what was good enough for everyone else was not good enough for his offspring. Pretty sure I would’ve fallen into his “not good enough” category had Maya actually been interested in me. “You know what parents are like, they never see us as adults. It’ll still be the same when we’re fifty.”

“Yeah,” Maya muttered. “They’ll be lecturing us from their armchairs at the nursing home.”

They managed to fill most of the silence by discussing other mutual acquaintances, with a bit of generic Christmas chat thrown in, and before too long they were entering the outskirts of Glenavie. The darkness of the country road gave way to bright street lighting, enhanced by the sparkly hue of Christmas lights. Sam breathed a sigh of relief that soon the journey would be over. The familiar granite villas with their warm and welcoming bay windows came into view, the sight of which always filled him with the comforting sense of coming home.

On the streets, there was a light sprinkling of snow, which hadn’t been present farther south, and the cozy feeling was enhanced by the festive illuminations adorning both the streetlamps and the properties. They all twinkled in various hues of white, yellow, and orange. Some houses were bedecked in other primary colors, which at any other time might have appeared garish, but at this time of year, he loved it. The townsfolk tended to go all out for the festive season. Every year there was a competition for the best-lit house, hence the town-wide tradition of decorating for Christmas in late November—far earlier than the rest of the country. It was a Glenavie thing, and it was awesome. There really wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be, despite the likes of Maya looking down on it, and Catriona always going on at him about moving away to try the big-city life. Sam couldn’t imagine anything worse.

Maya glanced over, her expression unexpectedly soft. “I always get this comforting feeling once I reach home. Especially at Christmas. I love seeing all the lights.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Me too.”

“I assume they’re doing the Christmas lights competition this year?” Maya asked, craning her neck to look at the houses.

“Yeah,” he replied, surprised by her interest and gesturing out the window toward the big house on the corner. “They still win every year.” It was an old stone building, and each window was carefully dressed with rose-gold twinkly lights, matching those lining the rim of the roof. Each tree on the front lawn was draped symmetrically in the same shade of light.

“It is stunning,” Maya said. “It’s like something off a Christmas card.”

Sam nodded. It was perfect, but that wasn’t his thing. He preferred homely, welcoming, down to earth. He’d never choose somewhere beautiful but clinical like Kirsty’s house over the likes of his smaller but cozier place. And he preferred the lights on the houses on his estate. They were fun and over the top rather than immaculate looking. But he wasn’t surprised that Maya liked the huge, expensive, flawless big house on the corner. That was her all over.

“Okay,” Maya said, clearing her throat. “You need to direct me now, because I don’t know where you live.”

Sam sat straighter. “Oh yeah. I forgot. Take the next left.”

Maya followed his instructions as he guided her off the main road and through the housing estates. He was giving her an update on who was living where and doing what when it occurred to him that Maya wasn’t the first to move away and then return. A few others around their age had already done the same for various reasons. It seemed like the curse of the millennials.

“Here it is,” Sam said as they pulled up outside his row of semidetached houses. The sick feeling began to swirl again. Would she look down on his area? Her parents lived a couple of estates over, in one of the grand older houses, and again, that wasn’t something that had bothered him in a long time.

“This is lovely,” Maya said, glancing around. “These weren’t here the last time I was home.”

Sam put on his jacket and lifted his bag. She was no doubt saying that to be polite. “Thanks for the lift.”

“That’s okay,” Maya said, eyeing his movements with an almost wistful look on her face. Perhaps wishing tonight had never happened.