My fingers close in around my phone as my jaw locks.
Something must have come up. Something too important. Is he okay? What is this about?
Despite all these rational thoughts that filter into my mind, it is anger that keeps me from sending a reply.
When I walk briskly back to the table, Dad glances up, his lips curling into a faint frown.
“We should start,” I announce, clearing my throat as I sit down on the chair beside Lily. “Jude will be coming later.”
Mom pauses mid-laugh, turning her attention away from Karen, Victor’s wife. “Is everything alright?”
I manage a curt nod, my eyes briefly flicking to Dad. I force a smile, and see him visibly tense with worry. But he gives me a nod just as quickly, choosing not to indulge now.
And so it begins. Christmas lunch.
The centerpie
