Page 10 of One Week With You
“Don’t you and Dad want to have a quiet Christmas to yourselves this year?” Leo said first, dutifully filling Mum’s glass with white wine.
I narrowed my eyes at him. I wasn’t sure what he was up to but now was my chance and I jumped at those. “That would be lovely, right? A small, quiet dinner just the two of you. No annoying men hogging the remote and cheating at Monopoly. Sounds like bliss, if you ask me.”
“No one asked you though,” Oliver said with a shit-eating grin, jerking out of the way when I threw a solid punch at his arm. Three years older than me but anyone would think it was the other way around.
“Plus, it’s not cheating if you’re that good you win every year,” Jacob added smugly. “Not that you would know.”
“Oh be quiet. I let you win.”
“Sure you do.”
My younger brother was too far on the other side of the table, so I settled for giving him the middle finger, a gesture he delighted in, throwing one right back.
Rafe stared at his plate, failing to hide his amusement.
“I love your father very much but I can’t think of anything worse,” my mother said honestly while Dad gave a nod of agreement. “I have 360-plus days just the two of us. Christmas is about being together as a family. I thought I’d have grandchildren to play with by now but – ”
Another round of groans while my stomach plummeted to my feet.
“I mean, really,” she carried on, “three grown children in their thirties and one who is forty and not one of you has given me a grandchild yet? What did I do to deserve this? David, pass the salt.”
“I’m too young to settle down,” Jacob said around a mouthful of carrots. “Sorry.”
“You’re thirty,” Dad replied, pushing the salt shaker down the table.
“Exactly. Ask me again in ten years.”
“Hopefully you’ll have matured by then,” I added.
Jacob grinned, tipped his glass in the air, and winked.
“Spoken like a man who has all the time in the world.” Mum huffed, wielding her fork with all the emphasis of a dagger. “You can go around producing sperm for years and years, but I don’t want to be an old granny. At this rate I’ll be ancient.”
I gulped down a too-big mouthful of wine, enough that I almost choked.
“Joanna, dear. Can we not talk about sperm at the dinner table?” Dad asked, giving me a steadying pat on the back and shaking his head the way he always did when things got out of control.
This happened a lot.
I sat stiff as a board, anxiety clawing at my throat. My mother voicing one of my deepest fears was the icing on the crappy cake that was the last few days. I had yet to admit it out loud, but the truth was I wanted a baby and was no closer to having one now than I was six years ago, when I’d first started to think about the idea seriously. Children had always been a far-off eventuality I hadn’t given much thought until I was staring the big 3-0 in the face and all the decisions that came with it. Figuring out I wanted kids was one thing. Realising it might never happen was another. I didn’t need the reminder. Not today.
My gaze darted to Rafe sitting opposite. Something fluttered in my chest when I found him staring, but I grimaced, mouthingsorry. This couldn’t have been the most comfortable conversation to witness, even if he was used to it.
Rafe shook his head, his smile soft enough to settle the tension that had climbed into my shoulders two days ago. Despite his persistent moodiness, he always seemed to have a calming effect on me. On tougher days all I wanted to do was run straight to Rafe and sink into his solid arms. Everything felt like it was going to be okay when I was near him. That’s all I needed. To be adjacent to Rafe.
Maybe that’s why I’d called him drunk off my face. The less I thought about that, the better.
“Are you bringing Matthew to Christmas this year?” Mum asked.
“Michael.” I followed my weary sigh with another swig of wine. “His name is Michael, and no. I’m not.” I found myself staring at Rafe as I added, “We broke up.”
The flare in his eyes was my imagination, I was sure of it.
A trick of the light.
“Oh, darling,” Mum said. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” Leo scoffed. “That guy was a dick.”
