Page 89 of Words We Didn't Say

“So much for playing it cool, Ma,” I muttered.

Mum swatted me. “Shush.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Maree.” Eden shuffled from foot to foot. “We, um—” She waved a hand at the gifts tucked under my arm.

“What’s all this?” Mum readjusted her glasses. “Honey, that’s so thoughtful of you! I just love presents. Zach’s dad, John—you’ll meet him—he’s absolutelydreadfulat giving presents. Last Christmas—”

“Ma.”

“—you wouldn’t even believe it if you saw it with your own eyes! He bought me fertiliser—”

“Ma,” I said through gritted teeth. “He chose it because you like gardening.”

“Fertiliser!ForChristmas!”Mum scoffed. “If Eden’s going to be part of the family, she needs to be prepared for whatever terrible—”

“Ma!”

Eden laughed. “I’m looking forward to our first Christmas.” She squeezed my hand.

“Me too.” Our first Christmas. Together.My heart skipped. “And have no fear—as you know, I happen to be excellent at choosing gifts.” I wiggled my eyebrows.

“You’re…improving.”

I grinned. “I’ll take it.”

Mum waved for us to follow her inside. “I hope you haven’t eaten! We’re having lamb with all the trimmings.”

“Ma.” I groaned. “You didn’t need to go to all the trouble of making a roast.”

She ushered us into the living room. “You don’t fill tummies with salads, Zachary,” she hissed as she shoved me towards the sofa.

“God help me,” I mumbled.

I was arranging the gifts on the coffee table under Eden’s watchful eye when Dad wandered into the living room.

“Hey, mate.” He patted a quick hello on my shoulder and then fussed with the collar on his shirt, looking at me, Mum, and finally Eden. After staring at her with an uncertain tilt of his head, he eventually stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Mum glared at him.

Self-conscious, Dad glanced at his hand. “I washed up.” He rubbed it down the front of his jeans just to make sure and stuck it back out.

“John, really.” Mum sighed. “A handshake?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

“She’s Zach’s, erm…well…” Mum twittered a laugh and fluffed her hair.

Sensing the awkwardness, Eden stuck out her hand, catching Dad by surprise when her fingers closed around his to pump his hand up and down in an efficient shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rawles.”

“John.” He broke out with a rare smile. “Strong handshake. Better than the little punk who runs the mower shop.”

Mum let out a mortified groan. “John, really!” She quickly recovered to flash Eden a warm smile. “Ignore that big lug of a man. You two sit down. We’ll bring in some drinks and a few nibblies so we can chat before dinner.”

Dad tugged at the collar of his shirt again. “You never said anything about chat—”

Mum yanked him away. “We’ll be right back.”

Once they’d left the room, I turned to Eden with an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” I said. “That’s, ah—yeah, so that’s my parents.”

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