Nothing New for Sophie Drew: a heart-warming romantic comedy, Katey Lovell [booksvooks .txt] 📗

of smoke curled from a white-hot barbecue and rows of pretty garden lights were strung out between the summer house and the shed. A group were playing cards at a table on the decking, and a young boy, who had to be Dylan was playing croquet (croquet!) with a man who, by default, I knew was Dale. The genetics were strong enough to make me look twice to ensure Max was still by my side.

“Okay?” he asked, with gentle reassurance. “Not regretting saying you’d come?”

“Not at all.”

“Maxwell!” Dale came over and patted Max forcibly on the back. His skin was a shade darker, his hair slightly darker too, but other than that they were incredibly alike. “Good to see you. And good to meet you, Sophie. I was beginning to wonder if Max had made up this stunning girlfriend he’s been talking about,” he added, teasingly jabbing Max in the ribs.

“I’m real,” I replied with a modest laugh, immediately feeling comfortable in this company.

“Welcome to the madhouse.” He smiled, extending a hand. “I’m Dale, Max’s youngest brother. The most handsome and debonair of the Oakley brothers.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” Max pointed his index finger to his ear and spun it in a circle, before bending down, cupping his hand in front of his mouth. “He’s deluded,” he said to me in a stage whisper.

“Now now, don’t get competitive,” said a woman who looked strangely familiar. “I don’t know, Sophie. I thought it would get easier with time, but it turns out being the mum of four boys is hard work whatever stage of life they’re at. They might be getting older, but they’ve never really grown up.”

Max leant over, kissing her cheek. “You don’t need to pretend just because we’ve got a guest. Everyone knows I’m your favourite.”

Mrs Oakley smiled. “All four of you say that. I suppose it’s a good thing. Better than any of you feeling unloved.”

Her words scratched against my heart, reminding me how I’d felt like the inferior member of my own family for so long. The events of the past few months had brought us closer together than ever before, and I no longer felt less loved. Nick and Anna had a tight bond, but that was independent of my relationships with both of them and I knew my parents loved all three of us, the same way Mrs Oakley loved her boys.

“None of us could ever feel unloved, Mum,” Dale said. “Right, I’d better go and help Dad with the barbecue. You know how overexcited he gets, you’ll be eating cold sausages for weeks if I don’t rein him in.”

Mrs Oakley smiled. “True, in fact, why don’t both you boys go and give him a hand. I’ll stay here and chat to Sophie. Give us a chance to get to know each other.”

She all but shooed them away, before guiding me to a swinging love seat and encouraging me to sit. “I’ll get us a drink. What would you like? White or red wine, gin and tonic, fruit juice, beer? I can’t drink beer these days, it makes me terribly bloated.”

“A glass of white wine would be lovely, thank you.”

I rocked on the seat as she fetched the drinks. Chris had taken over playing croquet with Dylan, and I recognised the man playing cards as Grant. I wondered if the woman with him was his wife, as she had a toddler on her lap and I knew Max had another nephew besides Dylan so assumed the toddler to be Isaac. The family resemblance was strong with all of the Oakley brothers.

“Here you go, Sophie.” Mrs Oakley handed me a large glass of wine and I steadied the swing to accept it, not wanting to lose a drop. She sat next to me and smiled. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell,” I replied, wishing I had something exciting I could share. “I work as a secretary for a legal firm in town.”

“And how do you enjoy that?”

“Not much, most of the time,” I said with a laugh, surprising myself by how honest I was being with someone I’d only just met. “It’s not awful, but it’s not what I thought I’d be doing at my age.”

“And what did you think you’d be doing?”

“Something creative, I suppose. I wanted to be a fashion designer or an artist. In the end I played it safe.”

“I used to be an artist,” Mrs Oakley revealed, “before I had the boys. I was pretty good. Gave up when I found out I was pregnant though because I didn’t have the capacity to focus. Baby brain, I suppose. I never really got back into it, life got in the way, but I still think about trying my hand at it again sometimes.”

“You should. I’ve started making things again recently and it’s so relaxing. Time seems to slow down and I lose myself in whatever I’m doing and forget about everything else.”

“That’s exactly what I used to find, nothing else mattered but the project I was working on. That’s why I couldn’t do it when the boys were small, because I had to stay alert for them. Even when they got older they still took up a lot of my time because I spoiled them. I should have let them do more for themselves, but I enjoyed taking care of them, and although I’d complain on a Sunday night when I had a pile of school shirts to iron, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Doing things for them was how I showed my love.”

“Well, whatever you did, it worked. Not many families come together every week like this.”

“I’m very lucky,” she agreed, taking a sip of her wine. “Friends of mine never see their grown-up children, but mine can’t stay away.”

As we sat in comfortable silence, the love seat rocking gently, I wanted to inspire Mrs Oakley the way Max inspired me. “You should definitely start painting again. You must have so many ideas stored away