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"I can't believe you talked me into hosting your family this year when we could have vetoed," Mary muttered as she angrily peeled potatoes. "Don't you remember the last time we did that? And your father ended up drunk, butt-naked in our bed?" With my best friend, she thought with a grimace and her lips curled in disgust.
"I thought we agreed that Christmas was my family's and Easter was yours," Francis replied, amused as he grabbed the sprouts and carrots. "And it's our turn to host Christmas from the random dip, remember?"
Mary turned to her husband. "Do you wonder why Claude never gets picked?" She asked conspiratorially. "Somehow, she never gets picked. Every single year. Even Charlie hosted us at his student share-house!"
Francis chuckled. "Well, when we do the draw after dinner, I'll make sure to overlook any funny business," he promised, jumping when he heard a crash in the living room. "James, Anne!"
Leaving the vegetables and his wife, he headed into the living room to see that his children had toppled the Christmas tree over. With his hands on his hips, he glared them down, their meek glances lowering to the floor.
"Who did it?"
They both pointed at each other, starting to talk over the other about why the other did it and how. Sighing, Francis ran a hand through his hair and rolled his eyes.
"You're both cleaning this up. You have to be quick, everyone will be here in an hour," he told them, checking his watch. "Right, I'll bring it up and you guys put the decorations up again."
He brought the tree back up, minding the children away from the broken baubles as he collected them and threw them in the bin before heading up to the attic to grab the spare decorations. At times like these, he was glad his wife was a hoarder and always accounted for every possible wrong scenario. He returned back downstairs and dumped the box onto the coffee table.
"I guess the childish charm will warm your grandparents' hearts or something," he stated as his seven-year-old twins grabbed baubles as they tried to curl the tinsel back around the tree. "One at a time, cheeky monkeys!"
Mary looked up when he returned to the kitchen, his eyes rolling hard. "I haven't even got it in me to be mad because my mind's on the turkey and chicken," she told him. "All sorted?"
"Well, our tree isn't looking like a showroom's tree anymore," he replied, grabbing the vegetables once again to cook.
"We do have kids," his wife mused with a sigh. "Oh, Rose will be up from her nap in a bit." She checked the clock on the wall. "And the alarm's going to go off for a quick turkey check. Can you-"
"I'll handle our little anti-Christ, don't worry," Francis chuckled, placing the vegetables back down just as a cry was heard on the baby monitor. He did the cross sign, making Mary laugh. "Wish me luck."
"Good luck," she laughed, shaking her head a little in amusement.
Just as he left the room, his phone went off by its charging spot and she quickly wiped her hands off and reached for it in case it was his parents or one of his siblings. They did love calling to double-check if they could bring whatever they wanted under the sun. And his parents and aunt weren't too shy to bring hard liquors over which sent her seldom falling asleep, hungover by Boxing Day morning.
"Oh, Bash. Hi!"
"I'm not bringing anyone."
"Oh-kay...?" Mary drawled, amused as she went over to silence the turkey check alarm. "And you thought we needed to know because?"
Bash sighed. "Dad will obviously make mention of that and I need to count on you both to stir the conversation away from me and towards, I don't know, your hellish kids?"
"Any opportunity to talk about my kids is a great one. Even if they’re hellish," Mary replied. "We'll do our best, don't worry. But don't you think it's time to settle down and uh, get serious? Bash, you can't play the 'bachelor' card forever, you know. You're closer to forty than we are."
Bash gasped before groaning. "Fuck... you. I'm only thirty-three!"
"Exactly. Your you-know-what won't be that good to make children soon," she said, grinning when he began to choke and sputter. "Francis and I were talking about it. That's why we started having kids at twenty-three."
"Yes, we all love remembering those horrid little cries at 2 in the morning when you guys were broke and couldn't afford your glamorous house," he replied, making her giggle. "Plus, I'm alright with being single."
"Yeah, right," Mary drawled. "I've got to go. Turkey's cooking and Francis is dealing with the beast that embodies 'terrible twos' in every way possible."
He laughed. "Okay, I'll be there by three-ish. See you guys soon."
"Bye!"
She hung up and quickly checked the turkey before heading into the living room with her arms crossed. The tree was less than ideal and now slightly wonky and the star that the twins had made at school lay broken on the coffee table.
"I guess we'll put up Nonna's star," she muttered, referring to her mother-in-law's gifted star. "I'm not even going to yell or tell you off. It's Christmas."
"Sorry, Mama," they said shyly before continuing to put up decorations on the tree.
Mary smiled fondly. Kids will be kids, she thought. "Right, Great Aunt Charlotte will be here soon with Nonna and Pepe. Be quick."
She checked the clock once more. This was going to be a long day.
"...so I said to that pool boy that this body has got more action than his parents' bed in their entire marriage!"
"Aunt Charlotte!" Francis cried out, as he and Mary covered their children's ears. "Small ears are aware!"
Downing her wine, Aunt Charlotte chuckled bitterly. "I gave that man three children too. Ruined this figure for what? A man who'd get with a girl young enough to be our granddaughter?!"
"Oh, shit," Claude breathed out under her breath as her brothers stared eyes wide at their aunt. Margot and Leeza were seriously missing out on some good drama. She decided to record. "Tell us more, Aunt Charlotte!"
Catherine snorted, rolling her eyes. "Trust me, Charlotte, you got lucky. Some of us still have to put up with their shit."
"We all know Dad's no saint," Charlie muttered under his breath as he sipped his drink.
Henry glared at his son and then his wife. "Can't we all put our grievances aside and enjoy this Christmas? Then we can go back to hating each other tomorrow. The sooner the better."
"Do you really hate Nonna, Pepe?" Anne asked, eyes wide.
Henry baulked, the adults all choking or attempting to defend their dysfunctionality. "Well, choupette, it's a joke. When you're older, you'll understand."
"Okay!" Anne cried out, continuing to eat her dinner.
"Yes," Henry muttered. "Eat your greens. They make you grow."
Claude let out a giggle. "Wish you were present enough to tell us that. Maybe I wouldn't have been so short," she said. "Do you know how high these damn heels I'm wearing are? And I'm still shorter than Francis and he's the shortest out of all of the boys!"
Mary laughed when her husband glared at his sister. "Don't worry," she said before whispering into his ear, "you definitely make up for it in other categories."
"Mary," he hissed, blushing furiously as he quickly sipped his wine. "Right, I'll go and check on dessert."
He went into the kitchen, opened the oven and coughed when smoke met his face. Waving it away, his shoulders sagged at the burnt yule log cake sheets. Taking them out, he turned the oven off and covered his face, wondering how he'll save this.
"Francis, what's that burning sm-shit," Mary breathed out, hurrying to his side. "We have dinner being finished within ten or so minutes and no dessert!"
"I'm sorry," he groaned. "I thought the timer said fifty minutes, not... fifteen . I was supposed to check it at intervals."
Mary sighed heavily and grabbed her phone from her pocket. "I've got this."
"Who are you calling?"
"Kenna's spending Christmas alone and she made a bunch of cranachans when she thought her family would be flying over to spend Christmas in Paris instead of Scotland, but their flights were cancelled," Mary began, quickly placing her phone onto her ear. "Now, she can join us in return for her desserts."
Francis's eyes widened in relief. "You star," he breathed out, kissing her quickly just as she greeted her best friend.
"I've got a problem, Kenna. I'm going to need the cranachans after all..."
"...delicious!" Aunt Charlotte cried out. "And it's a Scottish delicacy, you say?"
Mary beamed, nodding as the kids smushed theirs all over their faces, Rose especially. "Yes, Aunt Charlotte. I used to make them with my father all the time before he died."
"I guess we won't be needing the Christmas pudding then," Catherine mumbled, picking at her cranachan. "Too sweet, this."
"The kids love it," Henri Jr replied, grinning at James and Anne who grinned back happily. "Can't wait for their sugar rushes and then they'll be crashing in time for bed."
"Indeed," Francis said, a brow quirking upwards when he noticed that Bash and Kenna seemed to be in their own little world, flirting as they drank and ate. "Thank you, Kenna. For saving dessert."
She snapped out of her conversation to give Francis a big smile. "My pleasure!" She then went back to giggling and flirting with Bash, making Francis excuse himself and his wife from the table. He pulled her into the kitchen and pretended to busy himself with grabbing drinks for refills if anyone came inside.
"Kenna."
"What about her?" Mary asked, furrowing her brows.
Francis smirked. "Let's set Bash up with her! Didn't she break up with that jerk last month?"
Mary nodded slowly. "She did," she confirmed. "But seriously? Her and Bash? They will drive each other crazy."
"But at least it's something," Francis replied. "For Christmas."
"Christmas hook-up, you mean?" Mary rolled her eyes with a smirk. "Urgh fine, let's set them up. You'll talk Kenna up and I'll talk him up to Kenna."
"Done."
After dessert, Francis treated the men to Whiskey by the fireplace. His father had lit it up and the kids had been sent to bed, already crashing from the sugar rush of dessert and becoming overtired. It was a much better night for the adults with the crying children gone.
"Kenna's kind of cool, isn't she?" Francis asked Bash as Charlie, Henri Jr and their father argued over whether or not 'Die Hard' was a Christmas movie.
Bash raised his brows. "She is, yeah."
"And she's single," Francis drawled, giving Bash a quick wink. "What do you say?"
Bash rolled his eyes and took a long sip of his drink before saying, "Just because I flirted with her over dessert doesn't mean we should get married."
"Woah! Who said anything about marriage?!" Francis cried out, gaining the attention of their brothers and father.
"Who is getting married?" Charlie asked.
"Since when did you have a girlfriend, Bash?" Henry asked his son.
Bash scoffed. "I'm not getting married! And I'm happily single," he cried out. "Francis, here, is trying to set me up."
"You do need a bit of encouragement," Charlie told him. "It's kind of pathetic, being thirty-three and single. You're not getting any younger."
"Screw you, Charlie," Bash snapped. "Why can't everyone just accept-"
"Henry Valois!"
They all turned towards the archway to see Catherine seething, the women behind her, looking all shades of worried and embarrassed.
"Claude just told me a little secret," she said, smirking bitterly. "You're sleeping with your best friend's daughter?!"
Henry turned to Claude, his eyes narrowing. "You little bi-"
"Okay! Let's all calm down, shall we?" Mary asked, pushing through to get between the women and Henry.
"Oh, I could kill you!" Catherine cried out. "I knew you were an idiot but not this much!"
Charlotte cackled, holding her glass of wine. "Oh, brother, what have you done? Don't worry, Cathy, you're going to love being divorced! Oh, I should plan the divorce party. We'll make it elegant and sophisticated, no manwhores allowed."
"I should go," Kenna piped up, giving Mary a quick hug before doing the same to Francis and grabbing her stuff.
"No, stay," Catherine snapped. "I'm going to need all the help I can to plan this divorce party or whatever it's called."
Charlotte grinned happily. "You're going to love it! Come along, ladies," she said, sweeping them out of the room.
"Okay, Christmas is ruined," Francis muttered, grabbing the bottle of Whiskey and pouring himself another glass.
“I’m so glad that Christmas is over,” Mary muttered as she and Francis were cleaning up after their guests had gone.
As the night went on, Bash and Kenna had disappeared, his parents were embroiled in a huge argument and the rest of his siblings and aunt were getting wasted on Vodka and Whiskey, drowning the noise of the arguing.
“I don’t want to see your family for another five years,” Mary added. “At least Claude is finally hosting Christmas next year, but you’re going alone, my love.”
Francis laughed, placed the bin bag down and kissed his wife before pulling her into his arms. “I may have manipulated that to even things out,” Francis admitted. “As for my family, I’m sorry, Mary. I know you wanted a perfect Christmas this year, but the kids ruined the tree, I ruined dessert and my family did what they did best and ruined everything else. You never ask for much, but we take a lot out of you.”
Mary smiled wryly, pressing a long kiss on his lips before pulling away and saying, “It wasn’t entirely ruined. Everyone loved the children’s touch on the tree, Kenna saved our dessert and your family brought free entertainment and alcohol to enjoy said entertainment. Things will definitely be quieter at my family's place for Easter.”
Francis beamed. “Definitely,” he said before yawning loudly. “I think I’m all Christmas-ed out.”
“Me too,” his wife replied, looking around with a grimace. “Let’s leave all of this for the morning. We’ll have the kids help to get things done quicker. For now, you and I need to get upstairs and sle-”
“Have a little Christmas party between ourselves?” Her husband finished suggestively.
Mary snorted, rubbing her nose against his. “Is that what you want? A little Christmas party between us?”
“Yes,” her husband drawled with a grin. “Might get baby number four ready by September.”
“You little…” Mary giggled as they kissed. “Rose was born in September just because of one Christmas day like this!”
Francis grinned. “And weren’t we hosting that year as well?”
“We were,” Mary affirmed. “Your sister Claude definitely cheats every year. She can’t get out of next year’s.”
“Definitely,” Francis replied before yawning. “Alright, let’s head upstairs. End Christmas on a high.”
Mary burst into giggles as he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. She opened their bedroom door and she gasped as Francis dropped her onto the ground with a loud thump.
Before their eyes were Bash and Kenna with the brunette on top of him in their bed.
“Kenna!” Mary screamed before clamping her mouth shut with her hands as the couple sprung apart, pulling the duvet over their bodies.
Francis only turned around, sighing heavily. “At least it wasn't my dad this time.”
“We should go,” Bash said, grabbing his jeans from the ground as Kenna got dressed and Mary didn’t even bother looking away as she sat down on the ground, traumatised and bruised.
“Mary, Francis, it was a wonderful Christmas,” Kenna said happily, pulling her shirt down over her head. “Let’s definitely not do this again for the third time, shall we?”
“Uh-huh,” Francis hummed, crossing his arms as his brother and Kenna crept around him.
“Say ‘goodnight’ to the kids for us,” Bash said, patting Francis’ shoulder before pulling Kenna down the stairs.
Soon, Francis and Mary heard the front door open and shut.
“Maybe we should have our party downstairs,” Mary finally said, standing up. She then realised something and smacked him hard on his arm.
“Mary!” Francis hissed, wincing in pain. “What was that for?!”
She glared at him. “You dropped me. Again. Remember the last time?”
Francis closed his eyes. “At this point, we just have to stop inviting her around for Christmas before she sleeps with every male relative I have!”
Mary stared at him in shock before she burst into giggles, nodding. “Something tells me that she’s going to be attending a lot more Christmas dinners so we may not be able to uninvite her.”
“You’re right,” her husband said glumly. He then turned to her. “Christmas still isn’t over.”
“The sofa it is,” his wife replied, grabbing his hand and hurrying down the stairs. “We’ll see if baby number four makes an appearance next year!”