Page 31 of Merrily Ever After
“She wanted to,” he says. “She was worried about you.”
“And you weren’t?”
He raises a brow. “With that sturdy head of yours?”
I open the pastry box, not liking the look in his eyes. The one that says he sees right through me. “Don’t.”
“People are allowed to worry about you.”
“I know that,” I say, fighting back my irritation. “They just don’t need to be.”
“Because you’re fine.”
“Correct.” I smile serenely at him. “The finest. No,” I add, batting his hand away when he reaches over. “Those are my sorry-you-fell-onto-the-road treats. And you’re on a diet.”
“A reset. You should come down to Cork with us,” Christian adds, ignoring me as he grabs a Danish. “For Christmas. You can bunk at Megan’s. There’s plenty of room.”
“Absolutely not. You country people scare me. I’m staying up here with the cool kids. And I …” I trail off as Megan comes back in with more bags and disappears into Tiernan’s bedroom. “What’s she doing?”
“She made him a teddy bear.”
“Another one?” When Megan and Christian first started dating, I could barely see the girl without her handing me some sort of stuffed animal.
“And a hat.”
I glance sideways at him. “She wants a bunch of kids, you know that, right?”
He shrugs.
“Can you afford your fancy gym when you’ve got to pay for childcare?”
“Can we stop talking about this now?”
I whistle softly. “Christian, the dad,” I tease. “Christian with stains on his shirt. Christian with no sleep. Christian with—umph.”
Megan re-emerges as he shoves the cinnamon twirl into my mouth. “Did you ask her about it?”
“She doesn’t want to come,” Christian says as I chew a chunk of pastry.
“I’ll be too busy here,” I explain. “I’ve got work and Tiernan’s birthday and—”
“Rest,” Christian interrupts. “You’ve got to rest.”
“You try resting when you’re hosting eight four-year-olds in your—” I break off with a gasp, slapping my hand across my mouth. “Norovirus.”
“What?”
“Norovirus,” I whisper, glancing at Tiernan who’s still intently watching the movie. “The nursery’s closed.”
“So?”
“So that’s where all his friends are! No one’s going to want to come to the party when there’s a freaking vomiting bug frolicking around society.”
“You don’t know that,” Megan assures me, but I do.
“They won’t risk it. Not this close to Christmas.” I grab my laptop and open my email. Sure enough, I’ve already got two messages from other parents pulling out. “I can’t believe this.”
“Do viruses frolic?” Christian asks.
