capital S.
It was so over the top, with the solar mini-train circling the yard carrying fake presents, the fairy-lights all over the house and around the manger, and the giant blue star on the main building roof, totally the opposite of Maeve and Simon’s mother’s idea of colour-coordinated, understated elegance. Or his own poor mother’s belief it was all a waste of time.
Imagine a family who was willing to put that much effort into decorations that only hung around for a month and then had to be packed away again. He couldn’t help but speculate how much they’d be willing to put into things that were really important.
It was so hard to imagine that sort of close-knit caring. The kind he’d seen between Maeve and Simon’s family every time he’d visited their house.
He’d always told Simon he was lucky, having two families and six sisters, and Simon had said he could share them as long as he didn’t chat them up.
Well, that one had been blown out of the water with Maeve, he thought with a grimace, though he and Maeve hadn’t done much chatting.
He sighed. Pulled back his shoulders and lifted his chin. Started to walk again. Not something to be proud of. Well, that’s what he was here for. To make right what he could. Maeve had said they needed to talk but he wasn’t so sure Simon was going to come to the party.
The front screen door opened and Simon met him as he came up the steps. And held out his hand. There was a definite welcome there he hadn’t expected. Holy hell. Rayne’s throat burned and he swallowed.
Simon shrugged and smiled. ‘Can’t say I’ve been happy but it is good to see you.’ Then he stepped in and hugged him.
Rayne’s choked throat felt like someone had shoved a carpenter’s wood rasp down his neck, not that he’d ever cried, even when he’d buried his mother, so it was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling, but he hadn’t expected this. He gripped Simon’s hand so hard his friend winced and he loosened his fingers. Dropped the handshake.
‘Um. Thanks. That was unexpected.’
‘I’ve had time to cool down. And I’m sorry about your mother.’ A hard stare. ‘You taking the blame for her is something we’ll talk about another time.’
His throat still felt tight. He so hadn’t expected this. ‘Maeve is incredible.’
Simon snorted. ‘Or incredibly stupid. We’ll see which one.’ He shrugged, definitely warmer than earlier that morning, and gestured to the door. ‘Now come in. It’s Christmas and you’re about to meet the rest of the family. By the way, my dad knows all about you.’ Simon raised his brows.
Raised his own back. ‘Nice.’ Not. Rayne glanced over his shoulder at the road but there was only his car on the street. He’d hoped as there were no other cars he could come and go before the family arrived.
Simon must have seen his look because he said, ‘Everyone walks most places around here. They’re all out the back.’
They walked through the house down a central hallway, past some mistletoe he needed to avoid unless Maeve was there, with at least three rooms each side, and into a large kitchen, heavily decorated for Christmas, complete with multi-coloured gifts under the tree. At the kitchen bench a tiny, round, older lady with a Santa hat on her white hair was carving ham slices onto a plate. The young blonde woman he’d seen earlier that morning was piling fried eggs onto another carving plate.
‘This is Rayne, Louisa. My grandmother, Rayne.’
The older lady looked up and glowed at Simon and then with twinkling eyes skimmed Rayne from head to toe with apparent delight. ‘Maeve’s mystery man. You are very welcome, my dear. And just in time for breakfast. Merry Christmas.’
Just in time for breakfast? His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t even thought about food. She was a jolly little thing and jolliness had been hard to come by lately. He couldn’t help a small smile. ‘Merry Christmas to you.’
Simon’s voice warmed even more. ‘And this divine being is my fiancée, Tara. Tara’s a midwife at the birth centre and has been looking after Maeve’s pregnancy since she arrived. If you’re good, we might even invite you to our wedding.’
‘Hello, Rayne. Welcome. Merry Christmas.’ And Tara, a much younger small blonde woman with wise eyes, smiled a smile that said, I know how hard it is for you at this moment. And, incredibly, he actually believed her. Now, that was strange.
Tara handed him the heaped plate. ‘Take this out with you when you go, could you, please, and try to find a spot on the table for it.’
He took the plate and she gestured Simon to a basket of rolls, which he obligingly picked up right after he’d kissed her swiftly on her mouth. She laughed and shooed him off and Rayne looked away. He couldn’t ever imagine being so easy with Maeve.
There was a brief lull in the conversation when they opened the screen door out into the back yard, but Rayne had spotted Maeve and the voices were fading anyway as his eyes drank in the sight of her.
Damn, she looked amazing in a red summer dress, like a ripe plum, the material ballooned over her magnificent belly and shimmered when she shifted. A green Christmas scarf draped her gorgeous shoulders. She looked like his fantasy Mrs Santa Claus and he had to hold himself back as Simon introduced him to his other family.
A tall, powerfully built man crossed to them. He put his hand out to Rayne and he took it. Shook firmly and stepped back. Yep. That had to be Simon’s natural father. Same mouth and nose. A chip off the old block, and he reminded him of an army major he’d know once. ‘Pleased to meet you, sir.’
‘Angus, not sir. And I understand you’re a paediatrician?’
‘Not for nearly a year.’
‘Maybe we’ll get a chance to talk about that while you’re here. You could think of having a breather here while you settle back into some kind of routine.’
Not likely. He already wanted to run. ‘Perhaps.’
A vivacious redhead swooped in and gave him a hug. He tried awkwardly to return it but he’d never been a hugger. Her head only came up to his chin. ‘Merry Christmas, Rayne. I’m Simon’s stepmother, Mia.’
She stepped back and waved to two young miniatures of herself at the table. ‘And our daughters Amber and Layla. So there will be nine of us for breakfast.’
It felt like a lot more but, really, the only person he wanted to talk to there was Maeve, who was watching him with an enigmatic expression, and it looked like they’d have to eat before he’d get any chance of that.
Tara and Louisa brought the last two plates and they all began to sit at the long table under the tree, but as he crossed to Maeve she moved towards the table as if she felt more confident there. With definite intent he held her chair and then settled himself beside her.
He glanced around and hoped nobody could see he really didn’t want to be here, then he pulled himself up. It was Christmas.
One of the little girls said grace, and he acknowledged the nice touch, especially as he would have been stumped if someone had asked him, and the table groaned with food. He hadn’t seen this much food since that Christmas at Simon’s all those years ago.
