Christmas was always family time, no matter what. My house had been semi renovated, the rooms that mattered - living room, kitchen and guest room - were liveable, so we decided it would be my house this year for the family holiday. Festivities had been quiet, exciting, more fun than usual. Taylor and I had humped a huge Douglas Fir tree into the corner of my living room and spent an evening decorating the branches with multi coloured lights and pretty ornaments, drinking mulled wine and giggling like twelve-year olds.

Mum and dad came down early Christmas Eve, mum so she could cook and dad so he could...do nothing. Taylor stayed over, and it was like old times, when we were much younger, waking up early on Christmas morning and sneaking downstairs before our parents woke. Poking at wrapped gifts under the tree, we’d daren’t touch until everyone was up.

It was fun, it was normal, it was home. Time as a family we held precious, no exceptions. It was the first year where the holidays felt right.

We’d eaten Christmas lunch in front of the television, feasting on our mother’s famous chestnut stuffing and turkey. We opened gifts, pulled crackers, laughed a lot - silly things people often took for granted. The Hamilton family didn’t, we knew all too well how fragile life was.

Taylor’s love life had been a hot topic of conversation. Of course, the great Philip Hamilton knew who Ryder was, had done business with him and his partner on occasion, were old friends in a sense. The discussion was the only time tension threatened to pull us from our blissful bubble. My dad, being overly protective of us girls, had his reservations about Ryder Laurent and felt the need to warn Taylor to be careful, that he had a history with women, many women, and not a savoury one. She took it on the chin, waving dad off while mum shushed him.

My sister didn’t stay over Christmas night, opting to spend it with Ryder. If the Victoria Secret package that arrived at my door addressed to her last week had anything to do with her quickly scurrying off, I knew exactly what she had in mind and I didn’t blame her for abandoning us. She’d winked when she left, the cheeky mare, confirming my thoughts.

Our parents went home a few days later and Christmas wound down. Taylor stayed with Ryder for New year, I spent the evening making plans for the rest of my renovations. Sharpie and I were well acquainted by midnight bells. Was I bitter? Hell, no. It suited me fine. I wasn’t the life and soul of any party, staying home alone was no hardship for me, I preferred my own company most of the time.

Finally, Taylor decided that her boyfriend needed to pass the ‘sister test.’ Honestly, she was deliriously happy and there was no need, I think she was itching for a night out. It didn’t matter if I didn’t like the guy anyway, I’d pretend, for her. It would be a small sacrifice to pay to continue to see her so happy. She’d set the night up and we were to meet down at the local pub. Fingers crossed my anxiety would bugger off for a while.

Taylor mentioned Ryder’s friend being there too, which made me nervous and fidgety. I knew better than to think my sister was setting me up on a blind date - she wouldn’t. What if that’s what the other guy thought? Yes, bits and pieces of my life were coming on in leaps and bounds but I was nowhere near ready to get back on the dating merry go round. Wasn’t sure I ever would be, couldn’t see it happening any time soon, maybe ever.

Walking to Taylor’s apartment wasn’t all that far, some fresh air before I was cooped up in the bar all evening would be great. I ambled along the road, leisurely thinking about all the things Taylor told me about Ryder. How they met years ago, the awful circumstance in which they reconnected. The way she spoke about him - wistfully, lovingly - pulled at me, a pang in my heart fluttering. If I had to analyse it, I would guess it was jealousy. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it. Being jealous was an ugly emotion and I didn’t like it. I mean, I was perfectly happy living my solitary life - wasn’t I?

I was pulling my own damned leg, kidding nobody. How great would it be coming home to someone, to have those butterflies of anticipation, to look in someone’s eyes and know they were mine, and I was theirs too. To be loved, cherished, to be the other’s all. I briefly thought about Marc and physically cringed. My track record with men and relationships was anything but healthy. A sore history and raw in the worst of ways. I didn’t see myself ever managing to move on the way Taylor had. The one time I’d tried, look where I ended up.

Shaking myself from depressing thoughts, I moved through the spattering of snow that was slowly crusting over with the chill of the evening. Pulling my coat tighter around me, Taylor was at the forefront of my mind again.

Always Taylor. Taylor.

I grinned thinking about her and the way she spoke about Ryder, so animated. Ryder having been a player in the past, concerned me. Taylor wasn’t stupid by any means and I could see why Ryder was attracted to her, my sister was gorgeous - inside and out. If it wasn’t for the fact they weren’t sleeping together, I would’ve easily dismiss them as a fling. I had to trust her even if I didn’t trust him. I’d kick his arse if he turned out to be a dickhead. He’d get a swift knee to the nuts and then some if he fucked her around. Taylor deserved a shot at the real deal, she had her heart set on Ryder, I hoped he wasn’t playing around with her.

Besides, it was time for us both to move on. She couldn’t keep mollifying my sorry arse forever. I’d promised myself Beaufort was a fresh start, I’d do things differently. I meant it.

Picking up my steps, feeling the wintry weather seep into me, I acknowledged my sister was in love. The prospect of meeting Ryder later wasn’t such a scary thing after all when I thought about how he made Taylor smile. Humming a happy tune, I let myself into Taylor’s gorgeous apartment. All the rooms had such homey feels to them, I loved spending time here. The first few months here she lived with one foot out the door, making no effort to make her place welcoming. I figured Ryder was rubbing off on her.

Letting myself in, I shouted down the hallway and Taylor hollered back that she was in the shower. Shrugging off my coat and hanging it at the door, I kicked off my cute purple pixie boots and traipsed down to the kitchen.

Taylor was always prepared, and tonight was no exception. I spied the bottle of wine she’d left out on her counter top and grinned. Pouring two glasses of the Malbec Rose, I took a sip from one, savouring the crispness, relishing the lively aftertaste of the cherries. I smiled, looking forward to having a night out and letting loose. I’d been stuck in my self-made DIY hell for far too long. The invitation to dress up and party was a no brainer, too much time had passed since I’d let my hair down and been out with my girl. I gulped down some more wine and decided - fuck it - I was going to have fun, my apprehension could do one. Get drunk and dance my cotton socks off was the goal of the evening. I felt safe here, so why the hell not? I wanted to stop wallowing in whatever pity party decided to take up in my head. Fun it was.

“What are you smirking at over there?” Taylor stepped into the kitchen, towel drying her hair and scaring me half to death. I hated I was still so jumpy.

“Oh, nothing...maybe thinking about getting drunk.” I downed the rest of my glass as if to prove a point, which was silly.

Taylor patted my back and giggled when I poured another. “That’s my girl.”

We were meeting Ryder and his friend - I’d forgotten his name already, oops - at the bar around eight. Like everywhere else in Beaufort, the pub was close. Taylor and I retreated to her bedroom to get dressed. I noticed the jeans, that weren’t Taylor’s, lying haphazardly across a chair in the corner of a room. I smiled to myself before launching into conversation as Taylor squeezed her cute curves into a cerulean blue peacock dress I’d made for her last year then fixed her hair and make-up.

“You sure you don’t want a dress?”

Being sisters, we had much the same body frame and swapped clothes all the time. Outside was far too cold and I’d opted for tight, fitted jeans and a cream, chiffon swing top. The slits up the arms and down the back made it too dressy for day wear. My favourite silk screen painted butterfly scarf, secured around my neck, jazzed up the look. I didn’t need to freeze my arse off in a dress, I wasn’t out to impress anyone.

“Never mind,” she said, eyeing me up and down, “you look perfect.”

We finished the bottle of Malbec then huddled into our coats, locking up and hurrying along the road. The night air was frigid at best and we laughed and carried on, our breaths frosty as we snuggled together, gravitating towards the muffled sounds of music coming from along the street.

Approaching the bar, I vaguely registered someone running across the road in front of us and jumping into a gorgeous looking car, a Porsche, I think. The door slammed loudly through the night, whoever clearly not in the mood to party. I stopped to watch as a guy banged his head against his steering wheel, the urge to knock on his window to make sure he was all right, pulled at me. Nope. He wasn’t my business, he was a stranger and I didn’t do strangers. Instincts be damned. The poor bloke was most likely in trouble with the Mrs.

Taylor tugged at me, pulling me through the pub door and into the warmth. She scanned the room, looking for Ryder I assumed. When she grabbed my coat sleeve, I looked to where she was pointing, and my heart sunk in my chest. There was a man sitting, on his own, at a table in the back of the bar.

Shit, where was his friend?

Third wheel was not my idea of an exciting night. Going home wasn’t an option so I sucked in a breath and valiantly hid my disappointment. Maybe his friend was running late? Or in the gents?

Or saw me and ran the fuck away?

Taylor squeezed my hand, talking to me. The music was so loud at the front of the bar I couldn’t make out what she was saying but I clocked Ryder standing in front of us, a cheeky grin on his face. I mumbled an apology and put my hand to my ear, the universal motion of ‘I can’t hear a fucking thing.’ Ryder’s hand was outstretched in front of me. Oops, introductions of course. I clasped his hand firmly and shook, no weak arsed limpness from me.

“Laura...pleased to meet you.” I found myself shouting as I leaned in.

Ryder pulled me into a confident one-armed hug, never letting go of Taylor. I chuckled at his possessiveness.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he said in a deep voice close to my ear, not exactly shouting, still clear enough to be heard. “Taylor’s told me a lot about you, Laura. I’ve been eager to meet you.” Ryder pulled back and flashed me a killer smile. “My buddy was here, he had to leave, had an emergency. Maybe some other time we’ll all get together?”

He looked visibly annoyed as Taylor shook her head, insisting it was fine, that we’d still have a drunken night. Her face flushed when Ryder leaned down and brushed a kiss over her lips, the display of affection not too overbearing to see like I’d feared. She, in turn, reached up and swept her palm across his cheek as he whispered in her ear. With a demure shyness, I watched in fascination as she tipped her head toward the floor. I sucked in a breath and averted my eyes from their personal moment, wondering who the hell Ryder was. That he could tame my larger than life sister that way. Oh boy - I wanted my very own Ryder. Not him, but one like him.

We moved to the booth at the back, winding through locals already up and dancing. Ryder poured wine as we sat, then drew Taylor into his side and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek. His phone was in his hand two seconds later and the next thing, he was taking pictures of them together.

“For the future grandkids.” He smirked at me, winked at her.

My heart melted at this mountain of a man promising my sister forever in the best way possible. He looked to have it as bad as Taylor did. Good sign, you couldn’t fake that hearts in the eyes look.

Making small talk, we polished off our glasses, drinking down the fruity wine, not quite the decadence of the Malbec. Passable. Ryder leaned backwards to text on his phone and I lifted the bottle, tipping the neck to their empties. Taylor agreed but before I could even begin to pour, Ryder intercepted.

“Here, let me.”

He took the bottle and half-filled our glasses, pushing the fourth empty out of the way, muttering ‘bozzo.’ I hadn’t even noticed the glass until then. Four glasses on the table meant he’d been here at least. It had me wondering if his friend was single. I mean, he was gifted with some seriously gorgeous looks, the guy was hot from what I could remember from weeks back. Was he as rugged and confident as Ryder?

Hell, what did it even matter?

Ryder nudged in close, squishing us all together. “Smile!”

Off went the flash on his camera phone, momentarily dazzling me. Without complaint, I managed to grin, keeping that stupid pursed lip thing going on, even as I cringed. Pretending having my photo taken wasn’t a version of hell I was comfortable with.

As a rule, nobody took my picture - ever. I felt indignant as Taylor knew this all too well, and the little madam was simply sitting there, studying me. I couldn’t make out her expression, whereas mine must have been all over my face. Ryder bumped my shoulder.

“Hey, Laura...Lucca will be pissed he had to leave. I’m gonna send him a ‘wish you were here’ text.”

I tried to loosen up and succumb to the relaxed atmosphere Ryder created. Taylor reached over and put her hand on mine on the table. I was such a paranoid idiot; normal people took selfies, sent their friends memories of their good times, it was no big deal.

“He won’t pass it around, I promise,” she whispered into my ear.

Ryder gave Taylor a funny look, like he didn’t quite understand, and I was beginning to think she hadn’t told him all that much about us. A lot of my pain and regret was hers too, she lived the nightmare alongside me for the most part. I had to ask why she hadn’t filled him in on the essentials. Was she holding back until I gave her the say so? I couldn’t hide myself away indefinitely and get all choked and bent out of shape when we did a thing as ordinary as taking a picture at a bar. Taylor was right - I was ready. So goddamned ready, I was fit to burst.

I tipped my glass in her direction and offered a confident smile that would have made even my father proud.

“Who’s ready to party?”

Taylor hollered at me. “That’s my girl!”

And then I was back to obsessing about the elusive Lucca.

What if he saw me and took off?

I wasn’t ghastly to look at, but I held an air of ‘closed-off,’ a cloak difficult to shrug. Maybe he caught my vibe through the window before I even entered the bar? I tried to mentally shake those ridiculous thoughts from my head, they were often all consuming and destructive if I let them fester. What did I care if someone liked the look of me or not? I was here to get drunk and that was what I aimed to do.

Catching a glance at Ryder, he was beaming as he focused his attention on Taylor, his face lighting up like a lamp when he snared her in his sights. It put me at ease, there was no doubt this man was as besotted with Taylor as she was with him. His eyes drew across to me lazily and I shied at being caught staring, he laughed and waved me in closer so the three of us were all squished together. So much less awkward than it had been only five minutes before. From there on in, the night began in earnest and I, too, fell for Ryder’s charismatic charm. For entirely different reasons.