Free Driving Me to Christmas (London Loves Book 5) by Julie Farrell

coat away from Verlaine and held it up.
    “Put this on properly, come on.”
    Verlaine grabbed the expensive coat and inspected it. Failing any proper clothes, it would have to do. He tried to put it on, but his arm became entangled as his frustration grew.
    “Give it to me,” Paul said. “Put your arm in here. That’s it.”
    Verlaine drew the coat around his shaking body. “Well?”
    “Look, I’m really sorry – I think this is our fault. Your family were all just leaving when me and Scott turned up. They found us out there on the doorstep about to knock.”
    “Why the hell didn’t you call me first?”
    “You said we could come up for the afternoon if we were at a loose end, so we did. We thought it would be nice to have a chat about the party tonight – I know you’re a bit apprehensive.”
    Verlaine scoffed and shook his head. “Fucking hell.”
    Paul’s voice remained calm. “They said you and Sam were having a lie down, so your mum made us a cup of tea. They were just about to leave again, when… Sam indicated that maybe she wasn’t exactly asleep after all.”
    “Oh my god. Oh my god . Sam’s gonna go fucking insane when she realises my parents heard her… oh my god! And Ellie and Bex. Shit.”
    “I’m sorry. It was just really bad timing.”
    “I’ll fucking say it was.”
    “I don’t think they’re upset. We all just kinda sat there… listening. Your parents were pretty shocked. That Ellie woman’s a bit stuck-up, isn’t she? She looks like the sort of person who uses words like ‘intercourse’ and thinks gay people are sexual deviants. Scott’s got the giggles, poor thing – I think he’s about to explode.”
    “Oh, poor Scott.”
    Verlaine ran his shaking fingers through his hair, feeling his mind spiral out of control. Paul reached up and rested his hand on Verlaine’s shoulder. Verlaine forced himself to calm down and tried to smile at his friend. It wasn’t Paul and Scott’s fault. Just… fucking bad timing.
    Paul gently lifted the huge collar of his coat so it covered Verlaine’s jawline.
    “It suits you,” Paul said. “You look mean and moody.”
    Verlaine chuckled wearily. “I guess I’d better face the music, huh.”
    “Yeah. Come on.”
    Paul opened the door and Verlaine stepped back into the kitchen. This time he had longer to take everyone in. His parents were sitting at one end of the huge wooden table, and Rebecca and Ellie were at the other. Scott was sitting opposite the door. He winced as he caught Verlaine’s eye, then he burst into giggles. Ellie sent a look of disdain his way, probably not just because of his uncontrollable giggling, but also because of the way Scott dressed. Ellie wasn’t liberal-minded enough to accept a man who was wearing a red frockcoat, blue velvet flares, and more make-up than she was.
    Scott pressed his hand against his mouth, trying to hold it together. His shoulders shook.
    Verlaine sighed. He’d love to join in with Scott’s laughter, but he knew this required tact and seriousness. He shivered again. It wasn’t just the icy glares from his family that made it so chilly in this huge desolate kitchen. The only furniture was the long wooden table and the cold granite worktops. Usually his dad would’ve got the wood-burner going by now, and his mom would’ve been baking at the iron aga, but not yet, not today.
    Verlaine drew Paul’s coat around himself. It was tight at the shoulders and far too feminine. But it was his safety blanket, so he rubbed his fingers over the soft brushed wool for comfort.
    Verlaine couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “I thought you’d gone out.”
    “Yes,” Jim said, “we gathered that’s what you thought.”
    “We heard the door slam,” Verlaine said.
    “That was Scott and Paul arriving,” Patty said. “We knew Sam had a headache so we offered them some tea. We assumed you wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”
    “And then we heard why,” Ellie said.
    “I’m sorry,