Meet The McIntyres - The Complete Series

by Rebecca Barber

  “Stop arguing all of you. That pudding is going to win!”

  “Pudding?”

  “Yes, Ebony. Payton made one of those delicious fruit puddings. You know, the one you need to boil.” I had no idea what Dad was on about, but I was shocked. I’d never even seen him so much as cook a piece of toast, yet he knew that you boiled Christmas pudding.

  “We don’t eat Christmas pudding in this house! Where is the trifle?”

  “What trifle?” Payton squeaked. “Was I supposed to make trifle?”

  “No, sweetheart, you were not. Why don’t you heat up that custard?”

  I knew exactly what Beau was doing. He was about to blow a fuse, and he didn’t want Payton anywhere near the explosion. Hell, if I could have thought of an excuse, I’d be hiding in the kitchen with her.

  As soon as she was safely out of harm’s way, Beau turned to Mum, his face filled with pure hate. This was what I didn’t want. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew families fell apart all the time. I knew why mine had. Mum wanted the money and prestige, and not Dad. Not us. It stung. And more than once, while I sat in my dorm room, I’d guzzled bourbon trying to drown the pain. The problem with masking your pain with booze is eventually the booze wears off and you feel it all over again. On those nights, I hoped in time we’d find a way to be a family again. It wouldn’t be the same, I knew that, but I prayed with time and space, the hate would eventually fade and everyone could just play nice. That wasn’t today.

  “Get the fuck off my property.” Beau was scarily calm as he issued his order.

  “Your property?”

  “Yes, Mum. Mine. Remember? It was all left to me. So there is nothing here for you. You just insulted Payton for the last time. If I hear that you so much as set foot in her bakery or speak to her again, you’ll regret it.”

  “You don’t mean that?” Mum’s voice trembled. Finally! It seemed like someone was getting through to her.

  “Wanna test me on that?”

  “Please, Mum…” Holly sobbed. Ryan rubbed his hand up and down her back. “Please just go.”

  Fuck, that hurt! It hurt even me, and I wasn’t the one being asked to leave. I couldn’t imagine what Mum was feeling right now. Her face paled, and as she rose to her feet, she wobbled. Without hesitation or thinking, I grabbed her elbow and steadied her. I might not want her here right now, and she might have a hell of a lot of apologies to make, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see her face plant, either.

  Without another word, she turned and headed for the door. I could hear Holly’s muffled cries and Beau’s calm voice promising her it would all be all okay. The screen door groaned as Mum and I stepped out into the sun. Instantly I regretted not bringing my sunglasses. My eyes squinted as I stepped down onto the grass, my hand still wrapped around Mum’s.

  We made it to the car before she looked at me.

  She broke my fucking heart.

  The sad, pained look on her face was soul-destroying. I could see the unshed tears balancing on her overly done up eyelashes. Part of me wanted to apologise and take her inside and cut her the biggest slice of pudding she’d ever seen. Anything to make that puppy dog look go away. I couldn’t do it though. Enough people were hurting in that house right now. I wasn’t about to add fuel to their pain.

  She started up the car and rolled down the window. Instantly I felt the cool blast from the air conditioning as it billowed out.

  “Gage…”

  “I’m sorry, Mum. That was…” Horrible? Unbearable? Fucked up? How did you tell your mother that she’d been a bitch and just ruined Christmas.

  “I know. I just wanted…since when do we have a hot Christmas lunch?”

  That’s what she wanted to know. That’s what had upset her the most. That was the one thing she wanted more information on. Not how we were. Or how long Holly was home for. Or where the hell Ryan spent his time these days. No, she wanted to know where the barbeque chicken and salad was.

  “Payton wanted to cook.” I shrugged. I didn’t really know why, and to be honest, I didn’t really care. Hot or cold, did it matter? Really? It didn’t to me, anyway. I’d eat anything Payton served up. She was a bloody good cook.

  “Payton. Who is she, anyway?”

  “She’s with Beau, Mum. You need to get used to it. She’s nice.”

  “Doubt it,” she snorted.

  It pissed me off. We couldn’t even have a moment before she turned into a bitch again. “Just go, Mum. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  “Gage!”

  “Don’t. Go home. Think about everything that just happened.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What the fuck do you think, Mum?” I was shouting now. I didn’t mean to. It was just she’d gotten under my skin and I’d had enough. “You show up here, act like a complete bitch. Say the most horrible things to Holly and Payton. And it’s Christmas! It’s fucking Christmas Day, Mum. You couldn’t not be a bitch today. So go. Just go. Please. I need to get back inside and make sure my family are okay.”

  “They’re my family too…” she muttered under her breath. I think she did it in hopes I wouldn’t catch it.

  “Maybe you should remember that next time you see them.”

  I was done.

  So fucking done.

  Needing a couple of minutes to cool down, I dug my hands in my pocket and headed towards the front gate leaving Mum sitting in the car alone. There was nothing more I could say that would make a difference. Nothing that would make this easier. Not for her, and certainly not for me. She needed to go away and figure it out. She walked out on the family. She was the one who needed to figure out how to fix it.

  I got to the front gate and climbed up on the railing. It was nice out here. Peaceful. Quiet. Perfect. As far as I could see, nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. It was like the world stopped. In that moment everything was still.

  My phone beeped in my pocket. I’d forgotten it was even there.

  ClickChick7: Wanna swap???

  It was like this chick could read my mind.

  After everything that had gone down in the last ten minutes, swapping families sounded awfully tempting right now.

  Chapter Eight

  Carly

  I wasn’t pissed. I was happy. There’s a difference. At least I’m pretty sure there is. I rolled over on the cool sheets and let the air conditioning blast my skin. Lying here in a tank top and a pair of panties, I was still sweating. Briefly I considered heading up to the roof for a swim, then I remembered that there might be people up there. People who’d want to talk and smile. I decided to order an ice cream sundae instead. I congratulated myself on my smart thinking.

  Grabbing the empty wine bottle from the corner desk, I tossed it into the bin reluctantly. I wanted another glass. Just one more. After all, it was Christmas. What was a Christmas Day without someone falling about drunk? At least in my family.

  Staring around my room I was swallowed by sadness. This wasn’t why I came back to Sydney. Fuck, if I’d have known it was going to be like this, I would have gone somewhere else. Anywhere else. Even staying at home, in my new cosy little cabin which, I couldn’t even remember if it had air conditioning, would have been more fun.

  I tried.

  I really did.

  I’d gotten up early and dressed the best I could. A sleeveless blue sundress that ended just above my knees. It wasn’t by any means short. I mean I could bend over and tie my shoe without the whole world seeing my ass, so stupidly I thought that it would be acceptable. Even I was surprised by how wrong I was.

  I was home by nine. A nice, respectable time. Not too early. I wasn’t intruding on anyone while they readied themselves for the day, nor too late so people were forced to sit around and wait for me. It was nine on the dot when I knocked on the door. I may have paced up and down the street for almost ten minutes, but no one knew about that.

  Hayden yanked open the door and he looked straight over my shoulder. He didn’t not see m
e, I might be smaller than him, but I wasn’t so tiny he’d miss me. I hadn’t met a man yet who missed the way my boobs filled out my shirts. No, he was looking for someone else.

  “Is it just you?”

  I’d been anxious all morning. I’d been up since four, alternating between being hunched over in agonising pain, or curled up in the foetal position on the bathroom tiles, waiting for the tidal wave of nausea to pass. To say I wasn’t looking forward to today was the understatement of the century.

  “Who was I supposed to bring?”

  Really fucking nice, Hayden. He didn’t even respond. Not in words, at least. Instead he left the door cracked open, grunted, and stalked back inside. With heavy footsteps and an even heavier heart, I followed him down the hall towards my parents’ voices. Smoothing my dress down, I took a deep breath before I stepped into the dining room.

  “You’re here!”

  As much as it pained me to be the bigger person, I had to try. Call it a Christmas miracle. “Good morning. Merry Christmas,” I bubbled as much as I could. It was all fake and it was exhausting, but I was determined. Once upon a time, Christmas used to be my favourite holiday. The music, and the food, and the presents, and the food, and the family time, and the food. Oh my god, the food! Bending down, I pressed a kiss on Dad’s cheek before I turned towards Mum to do the same.

  The moment I got close enough to bend down to kiss her cheek, she pushed me away. “There’s no need for that…that nonsense.”

  I’ll admit, it hurt. A lot. I’d been rejected by my own mother and I hadn’t even had breakfast yet. Pushing it aside and pretending it didn’t feel like I was being stabbed in the heart, I slipped into my seat and put my purse behind me.

  “So…”

  “Why are you here, Carly?” Hayden asked as he clobbered back into the room carrying a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Um…it’s Christmas?”

  “So you’ll come home for Christmas but not when we need you?” His voice was filled with venom. It was hurtful. Hateful, really. I wanted to run for the door and keep running. I’d been here barely ten minutes and I was already regretting it. Desperately. Now all I needed was for Dad to stick the boot in and it really would be a fantastic family Christmas.

  “When did you need me?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “What, Hayden? What? When did you need me?”

  “You’ve got to be fucking shitting me right now! You can’t possibly be that selfish!”

  I was shaking. Vibrating with rage. Standing from the table, I looked at Dad, begging for help. I knew none would come from Mum. It felt like no matter what I did these days, it was wrong. There was no doubt in my mind that if Hayden decided battle lines needed to be drawn, Mum would be standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Dad’s allegiance was yet to be confirmed. I prayed it was with me. I needed him on my side. More than I’d ever tell him, I needed him on my team.

  “Where were you when my life fell to shit? Galivanting around the country? Screwing your way through every wedding reception? Shacked up with some low life bum smoking weed and sipping coconut water? ’Cause you sure as shit weren’t here when I needed you!”

  That did it. I couldn’t bite my tongue a second longer. Even if it ended up I was out on this ledge on my own, I had to do it.

  “Where was I? When do you mean exactly, Hayden? Do you mean when I was putting Payton back together after you destroyed her? When I was making a living for myself? When I was building a career and a reputation…”

  “Oh, I know exactly what sort of ‘reputation’ you’ve been building, Carly,” he snorted and that was it. All bets were off now. If I could have punched him in his smug face, I would have. The only thing stopping him from enjoying a black eye was the fact he was on the other side of the table. Instead, I grabbed one of the oranges from the fruit bowl in the centre of the table, drew my arm back, and pelted it at his head. As hard as I could, I threw it.

  I heard Mum gasp, but I didn’t care. By this point I couldn’t.

  Stunned.

  Completely fucking stunned.

  It was like it happened in slow motion.

  You couldn’t plan this shit. Not if you tried.

  Just before it collided with his ass face, Hayden batted it away, changing its direction. Straight over Mum’s head. Thankfully it didn’t hit her. I never would have been allowed to live that down. That would probably get me written out of the will, if by any chance I was still in it.

  The mirror above her head wasn’t as lucky.

  It shattered.

  Into a thousand tiny shards.

  Pieces of mirror fell to the ground like confetti.

  When the noise finished, everyone remained perfectly still where they were. Shocked glances were exchanged. The errant thought flitted through my mind, wondering if since Hayden was technically the last one to touch the orange and change its direction, did that mean he was the one with seven years bad luck for breaking a mirror? Or was it still on me for launching it in the first place?

  “Get. Out.” There was no need for interpretation in Mum’s words.

  If I thought she hated me before, now I was sure I’d have to be checking around the corners looking for hitmen she’d hired. The look on her face had me recoiling. Risking a look at Dad, he wouldn’t meet my gaze. I guess his decision was made after all. I wasn’t it.

  Scooping up my purse, I stepped over the pile of reflective shards, thankful I couldn’t see my face staring back at me, and headed for the door. Pausing before I left the room, I felt like I should say something. Apologise maybe. Wish them a merry Christmas? When I turned back though, I knew there was no point. From this moment on, I was on my own.

  Clutching at the pain in my chest, I jogged down the hall and out the door. I don’t think I took a breath until I was back on the street, hunched over, hands on my knees, gasping.

  I don’t recall how I got back to the hotel. I don’t remember grabbing the bottle of wine from the counter and pouring a glass. Then another. Not stopping until the bottle was empty. It wasn’t yet midday in Sydney, but surely it was somewhere. Besides, it was Christmas. Who gave a fuck how much I drank, or what I drank, or even what time I drank it. I was alone in a stuffy hotel room on Christmas Day. My family hated me and I’d never felt worse.

  Sometime throughout my very unmerry Christmas I’d ordered the dirtiest, greasiest hamburger from room service. When the girl knocked on my door, I didn’t even care that I answered wearing nothing more than a stained singlet and pair of boy short underwear. It didn’t matter to me. Nothing did.

  After that I’d ordered a few more things. It was just on dark now, and I’d never felt more like throwing up. I’d eaten my body weight in crap, I was sure of it. After the hamburger came the wedges smothered with sour cream, garlic bread, a piece of Mars bar cheesecake so big that honestly it could have been have been served to a family of four and there still would have been leftovers, and a banana split with all the toppings. Ice cream, chocolate fudge, marshmallows, pecan pieces, glacé cherries, and even rainbow sprinkles. Now I felt like a big, blubbery beached whale while I laid on the bed picking at the pieces of food that had somehow missed my mouth, watching the ultimate Christmas feel good movie. Die Hard. Nothing screamed happy holidays more than Bruce Willis running around town blowing shit up.

  I needed a shower. I felt sticky and sweaty and gross. Despite the air conditioning being on full blast, I’d sweated through most of it and tomorrow was supposed to be even hotter. I found myself wishing I was on the other side of the world. It didn’t matter where, really. As long as it was cooler than this, and right now I honestly believed that the fiery depths of hell would be cooler than this room. It also had the advantage that it was far, far away from my family. The pretty white snow would be a bonus also.

  “Maybe next year,” I wished to the empty room.

  The boring, beige walls were closing in on me. Slowly but surely they were getting closer and closer. I neede
d to get out of here. Get some air. See some people. Talk to someone. But that meant putting on pants. I wasn’t that desperate. Not yet anyway.

  Instead I grabbed my phone, and without pausing to think, I shot off a text to the only person in the world I could be completely and one hundred percent honest with. DrDolittle2.0. I’d never met him. Never seen a photo. Didn’t have any desire to. Part of me loved the anonymity more than the whole point for the actual dating site. For the first time in forever I could be whoever I wanted to be without being judged and ridiculed for it. I could be me. The real, completely irrational, completely spontaneous me. The one who’d lain hidden for so many years she was now rebelling wildly.

  ClickChick7: Thank fuck this day’s almost over.

  I didn’t wait for his reply. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t really expect one. I mean, I’m sure DrDolittle2.0 had better things to do today than text me. I’m sure he was busy with his family or friends, hanging out and having a good time. God knows I wish I did.

  Tired of feeling sorry for myself, I got up, dusted the food from my chest, and stripped off. A cool shower would make everything feel better. I might as well wash my hair and shave my legs. Tomorrow a new and improved Carly would appear. I wasn’t waiting for New Year’s. That was too far away. I needed to do this for me and I needed to do this now.

  By the time I climbed out of the shower and wound a tiny white towel around my hair, night had fallen. While the temperature had dropped, it still wasn’t pleasant. Sydney was like a sweat shop. It was hot and steamy and as uncomfortable as hell. At least at home when it was hot, it was just a dry heat you couldn’t escape. This crap made me feel like I was suffocating. I couldn’t wait to leave.

  As I danced my way out of the bathroom feeling less pitiful and sorry for myself, I clicked over and found the music channel. After turning it up, no longer giving a shit about the people in the next room, I started dancing about like an idiot. It felt good. Really bloody good. It may just have been the best part of my day. Actually, it was the best part of my day. Right up until the point where I bounced around a little too much and my unrestrained boobs pulled something they shouldn’t.