Page 5 of Snowed In
I am. I know I am. And it’s not her, and it’s not her child, and it’s not this pub even though, yes, the pub is a big part of it. It’s me. I’ve been in a mood for months now, and I don’t know why I thought moving back to Ireland might be the solution, but if anything, it’s made it worse.
“I’m just tired,” I say.
“Uh-huh.” She clearly doesn’t believe me but drops it as my phone buzzes on the table. “If that’s work, I’m confiscating it.”
It’s not work. It’s an email from my older brother, Liam, with the usual list of what his kids want from Santa. I suppose you’ve got to respect the forward planning. December 1 and he’s straight in there. But he knows I take the role of favorite uncle seriously, so I send him a quick thank you before checking to see if anything needs to be ordered now.
“Mam invited you over for Christmas?” I ask, as I look up some overpriced, elaborate dollhouse.
“She did,” Zoe says. “But I’ll probably stay in Dublin.”
I glance over in surprise. Zoe’s a mother, but she’s also the only other single person connected to our immediate families, having chosen to pursue IVF so she could have Tiernan, and I was looking forward to some backup at the dinner table. In fact, I’d been counting on it.
“I thought that was the plan, though.”
“That was the suggestion,” she corrects. “But your mother has enough to worry about without a bunch more mouths to feed. Think we’re going to go to my folks. Order Chinese food.”
“But Molly’s coming,” I push. “You don’t want to spend Christmas with her?”
Zoe shrugs. “She’s going to come up for New Year’s. Same vibe. Different night.”
“It’s nowhere near the same vibe.”
“Maybe not for the Fitzpatrick family. What’s the big deal? Worried things will be incredibly dull without me?”
“I always worry about that,” I say, straight-faced. “But you should come down. Even just for the day. You can save me from all the couples who—”
“Ah.”
I break off, not liking the knowing look on her face. “What?”
“That’s what this is about,” she says. “Another lonely boy having another lonely Christmas.”
“I’m not—”
“You are so lonely. You are textbook lonely. Why else are you hanging out with a single mother and her two-year-old in a pub you hate on a Friday night?”
“Apparently, for a therapy session,” I say, but she ignores me.
“You’re a grown man. You don’t have to go home for Christmas if you don’t want to.”
“Of course, I want to.” The words are instant. Automatic. Zoe sees right through them.
“What happened to that girl you were seeing?” she asks. “Naoise. She seemed nice.”
“She dumped me for a rugby player. And she wasn’t nice. I’m also pretty sure she was stealing from me.”
“And that brunette with the killer arm muscles?”
“Focusing on her career.”
“What did she—”
“Influencer.”
Zoe presses her lips together. “Maybe you should try dating a librarian. Or a Taurus.”
“Maybe I should just accept bachelor life.”
