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“It must weigh on her terribly,” Shelly agreed with a nod to Raina. “I could help you cleanse?”
Riley looked at her for a second, stone cold and silent, then said “No” before lifting her tablet up again.
“Lost cause, that one,” Raina said loudly.
“Leave your sister alone,” Rupert told his eldest across the table.
“But, Dad, her aura…”
“Is none of your business,” Rupert said.
“It literally is if she’s sitting this close to me,” Raina said. “What if it clogs mine too? I don’t want a clogged aura.”
“Do you even know what a clogged aura is?” Ruben asked.
“I for sure don’t want to find out.”
“Oh, all three of you are safe,” Shelly said. “Your auras are bright and beautiful.”
“Three?” Troy asked, suddenly tuned in to the conversation.
“Yes,” Shelly nodded. “Raina and the lovely babies she’s carrying.”
The table went silent. Milo could almost hear the record scratch sound in the air. Conversations stopped midsentence, jaws went slack, Troy’s fork clattered to the floor.
“B-babies?” he asked, and Shelly nodded.
“Were you unaware?” she asked, and Raina gave the slowest nod known to human and dragonkind. “Ah, my apologies, then. Maybe I should have kept it to myself.”
“Oh my god!” Rowan’s mom put her hand over her mouth, the other one clutching her husband’s hand. “Babies!”
“Blessed be the fruit!” Clarence pulled out his spray bottle of holy water and misted it across a frozen Raina.
“I don’t like fruit,” Conrad said. “Is there no cake?”
“There was a cake on fire here last time,” Glenn said.
Rowan turned the color of his scales and half the table started snickering at him.
“It’s okay, Snugglescales. I explained on the phone when I booked the reservation. They understand that it was because of extenuating circumstances. They said congratulations on finding your mate and even offered free champagne!” Rowan’s mother reached over and pinched his cheek.
Milo’s brain snagged. “Snugglescales?”
“Please don’t,” Rowan said, but Milo’s brain was already well down the road of no return.
“That’s so cute!” he screeched, leaning forward eagerly. “Did you always call him that? Was he chubby and cute and the sweetest thing ever with his little scowly dragon face?”
Rowan’s mother matched his energy, leaning in with maternal glee. “He was the most darling little dragon. Always attached to my leg. He also had a bad case of ash-id reflux, so he needed to be snuggled and soothed a lot.”
“My god,” Rowan groaned, head in his hands.
“Did you call all of them Snugglescales or just him? It was just him, right? Ruben isn’t remotely snuggleable.”
“Hey!”
“No offense or whatever. Rowan is simply superior to you,” Milo said, not even looking his way.
“We called him The Scourge,” Rupert said, releasing a small flame to toast some bread before buttering it.
