Page 68 of Married to My Grumpy Minotaur Boss

“Good lad.” Hamu grins at me. “That’s the spirit.”

I shouldn’t feel pleased at his praise. Lord knows I’ll probably never see him again. I’m not going to be the one making sure his stepdaughter is happy.

I sink my head into my hand as the waiter serves our entree. Prawn skewers with a light Asian sauce and cold soba noodles.

“You know, I hate to tell you this,” Mom says conspiratorially. “But this isn’t Ronan’s real house.”

I nudge her, but she ignores me and keeps going. God, we’re not going to be able to air any of this.

“I don’t know why he got all shy about it. His place is beautiful. But I can guarantee he decided it was an invasion of privacy to show it on TV. That’s Ronan. I’d be surprised if you’re even at the stage where you get to call him by his first name. Am I right, Justine?”

I leave off the chopping motion I’m giving Amy, to glare at Mom. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She gives a light shrug I do not feel matches her cutting words. “It’s only that if there was ever a closed book, Ronan, you’re it. Like bound with string and locked in a padlocked case and buried underground.”

Silvia snorts and even Justine is holding back giggles.

“I value my privacy. Is that so bad?”

Mom pats my leg under the table. “No, dear. But occasionally it’s nice to let people in. I hope you’ve let Justine in a little bit, so she can see the real you.”

I scowl down at my prawns. This is ridiculous.

A, I’m not that bad and B, this isn’t real. So it doesn’t matter whether or not Justine has seen the ‘real’ me or not. That doesn’t stop me stewing on it all through the first course.

The staff take our plates and I’m so preoccupied I don’t notice Mom slip out to the bathroom until she returns to her seat.

Damn.

I missed my chance to tell her.

The conversation forges on. Silvia talks about her dogs and the holiday they’re going on in August. Mom chimes in, talkingabout the cruises she loves in the South Pacific and then they all start talking about how beautiful New Zealand is.

“You know,” Hamu says, “New Zealand is a beautiful place to raise kids. Safe. Green. Great healthcare system.”

I blink across the table. What does he think is happening here?

“Ah, I’m not sure we need to be thinking about—” Justine tries to speak up, but her mother cuts in.

“It’s not too soon. Never too soon to have these conversations. I wish I’d had it with your father when we first got together.”

“Mmm.” Now my Mom is joining in.

Tension rises in my skull until my tail is flicking the air and the base of my horns ache.

“You’re right, Silvia. Don’t let time run out for you, Ronan. Justine’s young and healthy. That’s good. But you want to have kids while you’re still young enough to enjoy them.”

For a moment, my chest gets so tight I can hardly breathe. I’m not young anymore. Not really. Dad was only fifty-one when he died. That’s just on the horizon for me at thirty-two.

I can’t draw in quite enough air. The others are still talking. Pressing us about the number of children we’d each like and boys or girls.

It’s too much.

It’s not real.

None of this is real.

Mum smiles blithely across the table. “You know, I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to settle down. It’s good to see you really looking for something real. Something more than work. Your father would be proud of you. I think he would have liked her.”

---