Sitting in this weird atmosphere of uncomfortable silence has me regretting her decision to bring me along. Sunday dinner shouldn’t be this… painful. It should be a joyous occasion, because there’s nothing better on this earth than a plate full of carbs doused in an unholy amount of gravy.
Especially when Thelma cooks. She has four children and cooks like she’s feeding an army. Thelma Morrigan laughs in the face of portion sizes. When it comes time to leave, everyone will get Tupperware full of leftovers. Tomorrow’s roast will be even better because I won’t have an angry Taranis Morrigan glowering at me across the table.
I’m not sure the man will ever like me. But as long as his sister loves me, it’s none of his fucking business. And I won’t tire of telling him that much if he dares to open his mouth.
“Saw the new spider plant on the way in, Thelma. Beast of a thing.” I take a bite of the creamy mashed potatoes. The air’s thick with the smell of roast and disapproval. Even the gravy feels judgmental.
She huffs out a breath. “I’m not sure that one’s going to survive, Robert. It came from my sister, who thought it was dead.”
I nod, washing my food down with a glug of water. “She could probably do with a bigger pot, more room to breathe. And those plants prefer rainwater to tap water.”
She looks at me like I just told her God himself is at the front door. “A bigger pot? Isn’t the one it’s in big enough?”
Some things just need a bigger pot to grow. I wonder if Thelma knows I’m not really talking about the plant. Rhiannon has started with a therapist to work through some of the issues she’s lived through with her dad. She’s not ready to tell her family about it, but she’s transitioning to a bigger pot, and I couldn’t be fucking prouder.
I shake my head at her mum. “It’s a common mistake. I probably have a big enough one sitting out in my shed I can throw around for you.”
I don’t miss a look that passes between the sisters. Taranis is clutching his fork so hard his knuckles are white. He’s going to erupt. It’s just a matter of time, but I hope when he does, it’s not in front of his mother. She doesn’t deserve to witness his wrath.
I promised Rhiannon I’d keep the peace. But there’s only so long a man can sit through a Morrigan glare before he snaps a fork in half.
“What are you working on now, Robert love?” Thelma’s voice shows no signs of strain or stress, she seems genuinely interested in what I’m doing.
“I’m actually going to interview for a national paper again.” I swallow hard, catching Rhiannon’s beam of pride asshe shoots it across the table. “I sent the application off a couple of days ago. I’m just waiting to hear back.”
“I’m sure you’re a shoo in for it.” Thelma’s warm smile feels genuine as she pats my hand.
Clíodhna makes small talk as the meal progresses and asks about my family, who she met at Rhiannon’s birthday party. “Emma said we could get the kids together for a playdate sometime. I think she might just want me to dish the dirt on Rhiannon. She seems as protective of you as we are of Rhi.” She smiles at me, but Taranis grunts.
I can’t take his thick-headed attitude for one more second. No one around this table should be subject to his bad mood. He’s glaring so hard I can feel it like a sunburn. My pulse climbs, my better judgement whispers “let it go,” but my mouth’s already loading ammunition.
“Taranis, if there’s something you’d like to talk about, I’m happy to step out and discuss the issue like grown-ups. But, if you’re going to sit with a face on you like a scolded toddler, might I suggest you take yourself off to another room to scowl at the wall over your dessert?”
His glower darkens. “You really think you can talk to me like that in my own fucking house, McAllister?”
My lips twitch as I fight a smile. Which serves as kindling to the spark of fire in his eyes. “Honestly, I’d say I’m surprised you’re acting like such a man-child in yourparents’house. But considering your dad has taken the head staggers and is refusing to sit at the dinner table because his grown daughter made decisions he doesn’t like, I can’t say that I am.” I take another sip of water. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the rugby star egomaniac tree, does it?”
Welp. There it is. The point of no return.
Aoife sucks in a sharp breath, Rhiannon slides her hand into mine, a silent show of support, and Taranis’s nostrils flare. “Youbetter watch your mouth.”
Thelma clears her throat. “Taranis Ruairidh Morrigan.”
Everyone at the table freezes at her use of his Sunday name. Even the gravy goes still. Apparently Ruairidh is the nuclear option in this house.
“I could say I don’t know where you got the gall to talk to a guest in my house with such derision, but as Robert has already accurately stated, you’re your father’s son. But if you don’t stop sitting there with a face like a scalped arse, I’m going to tell you the same thing I told your father before you all arrived.”
Rhiannon’s head snaps toward her mum.
“I said ‘Michael, either you eat dinner with the family and behave like a grown adult, or you get the hell out of my house until it’s over.’?”
Go on, Thelma, ye girl ye!
Clíodhna’s jaw drops open. “You didn’t!” The reverence with which her hushed whisper glides out of her shocked face says everything it needs to about the family dynamic. No one has ever stood up to Michael Morrigan. And now that they have, he’s throwing his toys out of the pram like a giant baby.
Taranis looks like he’s eaten something rancid. “Because of him?” He jerks his finger at me.
“I’m not sure that you’ve noticed, Taranis, but your sister is an adult. She’s happier with Robert than any of us have ever seen her. And for as long as she chooses to be with him, the Morrigan family chooses him too.” She points her spoon at her son. “So, get on board the train, or get off the track.”
