Before Merry can speak, Blanche waves a spatula in Merry’s direction. “I said she must’ve had a good night’s sleep. She’s glowing this morning.”
Merry looks down at her plate, a blush creeping up her neck.
“Is that right? Must be something in the air. Last night was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.” I give Merry a wink and then cringe internally. I’m like an awkward fucking schoolboy, not a grown man. This is my ex-wife. I should be able to go over there and kiss her if I want, but I don’t want Blanche to lecture me or my son to find out, for that matter. He’ll remind me why I’m not good enough for his mother and Blanche will remind me how low I was licking my wounds after she broke my heart.
“I think it was the eggnog.” Merry beams with a smile. The morning light catches her face, making her look even more radiant.
Blanche spins around and waves the spatula around again. “Maybe it was that wacky tobacky I found out on the patio this morning.” She looks between the two of us with a smile. “Hmm?”
“That was medicinal.” I hide a smirk behind my coffee. “For my back.”
Blanche gives me a sympathetic smile. “Was it stiff again last night?”
Merry chokes on her drink, spluttering and gasping for air.
Blanche pats her on the back. “Get it up, love.”
I lift the morning paper, hiding behind it with a silent chuckle, but wondering how I can get my ex-wife alone again, and more importantly, in my bed.
With today’s plans, that will not be an easy task. Spending all day with Finn and the groomsmen at the golfing resort andcountry club while Merry’s being pampered next door is gonna be torture.
“Are you all right, ma'am? You've gone as red as a tomato.”
Merry coughs again, then wafts a napkin in front of her face. “I’m okay. Just having a tropical.”
She was definitely tropical last night. She was fire.
I drop the paper onto the breakfast bar as the front door opens and closes. Turning around to the entrance of the kitchen, Finn and Shelly enter with beaming smiles on their faces.
Blanche immediately drops her spatula and rounds the island to wrap her arms around the two of them, just as she would when Finn was a child and came over for the holidays. “Have you eaten?”
“No, we came straight over, as we couldn’t wait to tell you after sitting on this news all day yesterday.”
Clapping her hands, Blanche spins on her heel. “I’ll whip up a couple more full English breakfasts.”
After what Merry told me last night, I already know what the news is. With the smile stretched across Finn’s face and the glow in Shelly’s cheeks, you don’t have to be a genius to know she’s carrying his child.
Merry’s eyes twinkle in the morning light that peers through the French doors. I remember her having the same sparkle in her eyes when we found out we were expecting. Though unexpected and under very different circumstances, we were happy nonetheless.
“Mum, Dad.” Finn takes in a deep breath and squeezes Shelly’s hand. “You’re gonna be grandparents.”
Merry’s already on this side of the breakfast bar, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations.” She wraps Shelly in a hug and kisses her cheek, too. “I’m so happy. Do you know how far?”
Shelly says, “After we did the test at home, Finn booked us in for a private scan this morning and, according to themeasurements, I’m fourteen weeks, which makes sense why the dress wouldn’t fit.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Merry gives her another hug. “We’re going to have a summer baby.”
I rise from the stool and hold my hand out to shake Finn’s. “Congratulations, son.” Emotions settle in the back of my throat, making it difficult to speak, so I pull him close and pat him on the back. “You’ll make a wonderful dad.”
“Thanks.” He turns around to Blanche’s onslaught of pecks on his face as she gushes over his news.
I stand back, rubbing the ache in my chest. Most people learn how to be a good parent from their own, but I think all I’ve taught Finn is hownotto do things. It’s going to take some time to build up a relationship like the one he has with his mother, but I’m gonna make damn sure this kid wants for nothing.
Marley widens his stance, holding the club in front of his face as if balancing his chakra. He takes a deep inhale, then exhales before swinging his arm back and hitting the ball. Whatever ritual he’s practicing seems to work as he’s beating us all my a mile.
Some of the younger ones are taking the golf less seriously, hanging back with the beers on the cart.
“Where are you travelling to next, Marley?” I stroll towards the ball and get into position to take my swing.
