Page 22 of Christmas Chaos
He grunted.
‘Rory grumpypants MacGinley. You have less than a minute to get it together. You will smile. You will make pleasant conversation. And you will not lose your shit if Brad calls you—’
‘Son!’
Zoe’s nails dug into his arm, the pain a welcome distraction. His father, who’d died three years previously, had been a domineering bully, kicking him off to boarding school in England aged seven. Rory was not in the market for a replacement father figure, certainly not one only a few years older than himself who drank smoothies for breakfast with the consistency and colour of something scraped off the bottom of the loch.
Zoe strode forward. ‘Barbara, Brad, what an unexpected surprise.’
His mother air-kissed her and Brad stared at her stomach.
‘Where is it?’ he asked.
‘Bradley, dear,’ replied his mother with the kind of tone reserved for toddlers. ‘We’ve been over this already. Zoe won’t show for at least another month, maybe longer.’
Brad looked disappointed but immediately bounced back, hugging Zoe. ‘Babe, we’re so excited!’
Rory stalked over and Brad let go of Zoe and grabbed him in a bear hug. ‘There you are. Bring it in, man, bring it in.’
Rory patted his back awkwardly until relieved by his mother.
‘Congratulations, darling,’ she said, leaving a good six inches between her air kiss and his cheek. ‘Although I’m not sure what all this is about,’ she said, waving at his beard. ‘Are you planning to play Joseph in the nativity this year?’
‘Zoe wants me to be Santa.’
His mother looked appalled. ‘Aren’t you a little young? I didn’t think you evenlikedthe concept of Father Christmas?’
That was true. The idea of a strange man entering his bedroom when he was asleep had given him nightmares as a child.
‘I thought it might bring more people in if they knew the earl was in the suit,’ said Zoe.
His mother sniffed. ‘Very well, although he’ll have to work on his fireside manner.’
‘Why are you here?’ he asked, as pleasantly as he could manage.
‘Rory!’
‘It’s alright, dear,’ his mother said to Zoe with a smile. ‘I know it’s a little unexpected. We just wanted to congratulate you on reaching the second stage of your gestational journey and offer our assistance.’
‘How did you know we were in the second trimester?’ he asked. Did he need to sweep the cabin for bugs?
‘My shaman, dude!’ said Brad. ‘He’s got his third eye on you.’
Fuck’s sake. Not another one. ‘Shaman?’
‘Yeah, Jesus.’
‘Christ,’ Rory muttered.
‘No, man, his surname’s de la Cruz.’
‘Darling,’ Barbara interjected, laying her hand on Brad’s arm. ‘You really should pronounce his name “Haysuss”.’
‘But, babe! “Jesus” sounds way sicker.’
‘Bradley,’ his mother said, in a tone Rory knew was a warning.
‘Yes, Countess,’ Brad replied, standing to attention.
