Chapter 31
Marc managed to pay Cora her babysitting fee and see her out before looking in the bathroom mirror to see the damage Lauren had done to his eye.
Cora had been too polite to say anything, he supposed, when he saw how bloodshot it was.
Thankfully, the ice had worked to bring most of it down before it could swell, but he wondered what his brothers would say about it on Christmas morning.
After a last-minute phone call yesterday, Marc was expecting his younger brother, Joel, to arrive at the lake house in the early hours of Christmas morning, since he’d insisted on driving up from Heathrow as soon as his ten o’clock flight from Dubai had landed.
Marc, unwilling to exhaust himself by waiting up to let his brother in, had told him where the spare key was hidden and which room to dump his stuff in.
Joel, who, on the phone had just assumed, despite his last minute acceptance of the invitation, that he’d still be welcome, had laughed and promised not to wake the boys up when he arrived.
Marc took a dose of ibuprofen before bed, put the presents under the tree and crashed out, hoping the boys wouldn’t wake too early.
‘Dad! Come on!’ Liam bounced in his seat, impatient to get on with the important business of ripping off wrapping paper.
‘You can wait a bit longer,’ Marc grinned, exaggeratedly slowly bringing his coffee cup to his lips. ‘The presents aren’t going anywhere. Unless…’
‘Unless what?’ Luca asked, between frantic scoops of Frosties.
‘Unless the evil wizard of Willowmere Lake came in during the night and stole them all!’
Luca giggled, and Liam rolled his eyes. ‘There’s no such thing.’
‘Really?’ Marc, who’d caught sight of Joel emerging from the downstairs spare bedroom looking dishevelled but awake, raised an eyebrow. ‘If the wizard of Willowmere Lake doesn’t exist… then who’s that behind you?’
Bang on cue, and taking Marc’s lead, Joel sneaked up behind the twins and gave a pantomime roar.
Much screaming ensued, and then an ecstatic welcome for their uncle. Although they hadn’t seen much of him, he’d made an impression when he had visited them in France and was definitely ‘fun Uncle Joel’.
‘What’s that about presents?’ Joel growled playfully. ‘Are you giving them all to me?’
‘No!’ Liam and Luca shouted.
‘Well, you heard what your dad said. If you want to open them, and the even better ones I’ve brought for you, you need to finish your breakfast.’
Dutifully, the boys turned back to their bowls.
‘You’ve got to tell me how you do that,’ Marc said in an undertone as Joel crossed the kitchen to get some coffee.
‘Not being a parent helps,’ Joel replied lightly. ‘I’ve still got the bloody energy!’ He smirked at Marc, noticing the beginnings of the black eye. ‘What happened to you? Get in a bar brawl last night or something. Hit on someone you shouldn’t?’
‘Not exactly,’ Marc said noncommittally. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’ He gestured to the counter. ‘Toast?’
‘Nah. Can’t eat a thing in the mornings. Gave up breakfast years ago. Hang on a sec, I’ve got something better.’ Joel disappeared back to his room, and emerged brandishing two bottles of duty-free Bollinger champagne.
‘Here you go,’ he said, clunking the bottles on the kitchen table. ‘Is it too early for a drink?’
Marc grinned. ‘I’d give it half an hour, and maybe something to eat first, or you’ll never get through the day.’
Joel grinned again. ‘Breakfast’s for wimps.
’ All the same, he grabbed a slice of Marc’s toast as it popped up.
Marc sighed inwardly. Joel was always fun but supremely irritating at times.
Unlike the serious-minded Noah, who’d poured his energy into his business and himself, who’d fallen in love, settled down and raised a family, Joel was the black sheep, living it up in Dubai, never getting tied down and getting away with murder because he had a handsome face and a charming manner.
It was always good to see him, but Marc knew, tired as he felt now, he’d be knackered by the time Joel left.
Having his brother to stay was almost like having a third child.
At least Noah and Bella would be coming round later to dilute Joel.
The boys had finished their breakfast and were now impatient to get to the serious business of opening presents.
‘Come on, Dad!’ Liam ordered.
Marc held up his hands. ‘All right, all right. Give me your bowls first.’ Obediently, the boys bought their breakfast dishes over to him, where he was standing by the dishwasher. Carefully loading them in, he turned back to the boys who were bubbling over with excitement.
‘And you’re sure neither of you has sneaked a peek in the living room?’
‘No, Dad!’ they chorused.
‘God, you’re not doing the same thing Mum and Dad used to do, are you?’ Joel rolled his eyes. ‘I remember them making us wait until we’d had breakfast, and being banned from the lounge, too.’
‘Some traditions are worth hanging on to,’ Marc said lightly. ‘If you’d have had your way, you’d have ripped everything open by dawn.’
‘Absolutely!’ Joel gave a grin. ‘But I suppose someone has to be the grown-up around here.’ Marc watched as he turned to his nephews. ‘Come on, lads, race you to the living room!’
Cheering, the boys darted out of the kitchen, Joel in hot pursuit. Marc shook his head. Trust Joel to try to disrupt their first Christmas in the new house. Trailing in their wake, he shouted at them not to open anything until he got there.