Page 52 of Husband Material
Unfortunately, Rhys Jones Bowen had got there first.
“Hello,” he was saying, directing his phone at himself and JoJo, “don’t be alarmed, I’m just making some content for our social media. Perhaps you’d like to tell the Rhystocrats who you are and why you’re visiting Cee-Arr-Ay-Pee-Pee today.”
JoJo looked a little perplexed but more patient than I think I would have been under the circumstances. “I’m JoJo Ryan.” He gave a camera-ready smile. “And I’ve come to speak to somebody who works here.”
“I work here,” offered Rhys. “How about speaking to me?”
“No, I mean a specific somebody.”
“Ah, how about me?” asked Alex. “I’m pretty specific.”
I got the slow, creeping sense that this was going to turn into one ofthosework moments. “Alex, youknowhe’s here to see me. He already told you.”
“Might have changed his mind,” Alex pointed out. “Fellow can, you know.”
“Alex, you don’t even know who this guy is.”
That made Alex do his indignant face. “Yes I do. He’s JoJo Ryan.”
“Who is?” I prompted.
“Who is here to see somebody who works for CRAPP, and frankly, Luc, I think it’s very selfish of you to want to keep our visitor all to yourself.”
Rhys looked around from his phone. Apparently, the chat had been updating him. “According to the Rhysocrats, JoJo Ryan is some kind of You Tuber.” Grinning, he extended a hand. “Lovely to meet you, JoJo. Always nice to meet a fellow influencer.”
I sighed. “You’re not an influencer, Rhys.”
“Excuse me, I have nine hundred and seventy-four followers.” He paused. “Well, nine hundred and seventy-two, really, because one of them is my auntie Margery and another is my auntie Margery’s python.”
I wasn’t going to ask. I wasn’t going to ask. I wasn’t going to ask. “Why does your auntie Margery have a python, and why does it follow you on YouTube?”
“She’s got a python,” said Rhys, and I instantly regretted my lack of self-control, “because she’s allergic to cats and because she got used to snakes when she was an exotic dancer. And he follows me on You Tube because Auntie Margery thinks he finds my voice calming.”
There was so much to process there. “Your aunt was an exotic dancer?”
“Oh yes. Very tasteful, minimal nudity.”
I wasn’t going to ask. I wasn’t going to ask. I wasn’t going to ask. “What does minimal nudity look like?”
“Honestly, Luc.” Rhys gave me a look of admonition. “Asking a man what his aunt looks like naked is low even for you.”
“I wasn’t—” But there was no point protesting. I’d only dig myself into a deeper hole.
“Actually”—JoJo finally managed to get a word in—“Iwashere to talk to Luc. About something a bit personal.”
Alex gave me an apologetic look. “Ah, as it turns out, he hasn’t changed his mind at all. Well played, old boy.”
“This was never a game.” I made my best welcome-to-CRAPP gesture at JoJo and led him through to the relative privacy of my office.
To be honest, I wasn’t thrilled to be leading him through to the relative privacy of my office, but having already made a scene at his wedding, I didn’t want to compound it by making a scene at my place of work.
Sitting down at my desk, I tried to psych myself up to apologise. Which was going to be difficult because, in a lot of ways, I wasn’t fucking sorry. I’d done more than my fair share of reconciliation bullshit by showing up in the first place. Expecting me tobe “yes, we’re bros now” was a bridge too far. And not like a little tiny bridge over a brook on a nice walk in the countryside. Like a giant, fucking steel-suspension bridge over a river of fuck right off.
Come on, Luc. Be the bigger man.
“I’m sorry if I spoiled your big day,” I tried. I know all the internet rules say you’re not supposed to begin an apology withI’m sorry if, but it was what he was getting.
JoJo laughed. It seemed like a sincere laugh, which was more than I’d expected. “Sweetheart, I was marrying the man I love in a big party filled with all my friends plus a bunch of other people who aren’t my friends but were still telling me how amazing I was. One slightly mean conversation wasn’t going to ruin that.”
