Page 87 of Fighting Fate
“Why are you lying?” the blonde girl whispers at Willow.
Clearly, the kids are the ones we should’ve avoided. The exasperated look Willow gives me makes me laugh.
“What’s your name?” I put my hand out to the dark-haired girl.
“I’m Molly.” She grins at me, shaking my hand before she nods toward the other kid. “That’s Pippa.”
“Nice to meet you both.”
The two of them are still staring at the tattoos on my hands when Jake comes out of the kitchen. “I wondered what all the commotion was,” he says, narrowing his gaze on the girls as they giggle and run past him into the kitchen. He watches them from the doorway while counting down. “Three…two…o—”
“They’re here!” The chorus echoes towards us. “Nanny! Nanny! He’s so tall.”
“Yeah, and he has tattoos on his hands!”
“And flowers…”
“Hope you’re ready for this, mate,” Jake chuckles, shaking my hand before giving Willow a quick kiss on the cheek. “Your mum is in top form today.” He barely gets the words out before a tall, slender woman stands in the open doorway.
Her brown hair is piled high on her head, with reading glasses holding all the loose tendrils from her face. She has the same vivacious smile as Willow, and her eyes are soft and kind as she stands watching us.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come,” she tells Willow before yelling, “James, they’re here!”
“Jesus, the whole neighbourhood doesn’t need to know.” Willow edges closer to me, grabbing the wine I’m still clutching under my arm. “I told you Rory had training this morning, and you said that you’d do dinner later.”
“How late can we do Sunday dinner? The kids will go wild if they don’t eat soon.”
“They’re called snacks, Mother.”
“Never, Daughter.”
“Quit your whinging, then,” Willow groans, tugging at her blouse again as her dad peers out of the room the girls came out of. “Anyway, Rory, meet Mum and Dad. Like I said, he’s the sane one.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Anson.” I offer her the flowers as she gives me a very thorough head-to-toe inspection.
“Lovely to meet you too, Rory.” A beaming smile cuts her face as she takes the flowers and tells me, “Make yourself at home, and call me Susan or Sue. No one calls me Mrs. Anson. It sounds old and dreary, and we don’t like that, do we, James?”
“Absolutely not,” he guffaws, offering me his hand. “Tell you what, son, you’re a lot taller in person. The cameras don’t do you justice…crikey! That Johnson kid’s got to be shitting his pants.”
A laugh bursts out of me as Susan smacks him in the chest, and Willow begs heaven for mercy. This isn’t how I saw any of this going, but I’m relieved that they’re so open and down to earth. I can see where Willow gets each of her traits from as we walk through to the kitchen.
The large space is crowded, making it feel a lot smaller than what it is. I can see why Willow described the place as crammed, especially as the conversation gets louder.
“How’s the arm?” Jamie asks, shaking my hand firmly.
“Pretty good…better…” Lying is something that doesn’t come naturally to me, but explaining the hospital situation would be worse.
“Good to hear.” He nods, turning to Willow and giving her a grin. “It’s only taken five months for the two of you to show up for Sunday dinner together…” The grin disappears as his stare flashes to mine, narrowed and unwaveringly serious. “I’d say it’s about time…especially with the…situation.”
“It’s not a situation, Jamie. He’s a baby.” She glowers at him, flipping him off as she hands him the bottle of wine we bought for her dad. “Be helpful and sort the wine out for Dad, will you?”
Whoa…whoa…whoa!I freeze as everyone stares at us. This is not how she said we were going to navigate this.
“I don’t know why you’re all acting like you don’t already know. If twat features is yapping, it’s because you’ve all been talking about it already…” Willow levels Susan with a glare. “And yes, I’m talking to you, Mother! Mrs. flappy lips. You only had to keep it quiet for a few weeks.”
“I said nothing.” Susan side-eyes Dorian as she pries the jug of water from her hands.
“Was it you?”