Page 23

She groans, and rolls over, tucking herself into my side. We’re both too exhausted to care, since it’s a rather intimate thing and not exactly reserved for people who are fucking for funsies.

“It’s only one in the morning, we can definitely go again.” She nods, liking the sound of her own suggestion. “And if you’re tired, just let me do all the work.”

I’m exhausted, and I don’t know how, but we absolutely make another go of it — I can’t be sure my body will be producing any more sperm any time soon, but it’s absolutely going to hurt like a bastard in the morning from all the exercise. It’s around five a.m by the time I shower — for real, and alone — and leave Dion’s place. She’s fast asleep, so I kiss her on the forehead and let myself out. It’s a short drive back to my place, and I’m in need of sleep. I try getting inside without making a noise — Aroha and Nyree will both still be asleep — but I just about jump out my skin when I shut the door, and my sister appears from the kitchen.

“You said you were going to be late,” she teases. “Not early. Did you enjoy your sleep over?” Why she’s fully dressed and not still in her pajamas at this hour is confusing, but I don’t have the energy to ask her about it, and because I’m so tired, I make the mistake of saying, “It wasn’t a sleepover, Ny.”

She smirks. “That’s obvious, you look thoroughly fucked.”

“Don’t speak so loud,” I hiss. “Not only will you wake Aroha, but she’ll hear what you just said and ask me five thousand questions later.” Having my six-year-old asked me what ‘thoroughly fucked’ means is my worst nightmare. Hell, even when she’s thirty, it’ll still be a nightmare.

“She’s awake, dumbass. Or did you forget we’re fetching Mama and Papa from the airport in an hour-and-a-half?”

Shit. I totally forgot my parents are flying in from New Zealand today, and staying with me for three weeks. This should be interesting.

Fuck.

“Kuia!” Aroha yells as soon as she sees my mother walking towards us at International Arrivals. She’s been so excited to see my parents and wouldn’t stop talking about it on the drive to the airport. My father isn’t far behind and is quick to catch Aroha when she flings her little body at him. “Koroua!” She giggles when he picks her up and swings her around. Nyree greets our mum, hugging her close. It’s been almost a year since we last saw them, and that was when I flew myself, Aroha and Nyree to New Zealand for Christmas.

“Dad.” I give my father a hug, and despite how tired I am, I’m happy they’re here. He holds me at arm’s length, hands on my shoulders, and looks at me from head to toe. I’m a mirror image of him, both in size, and in temperament. “You look good, tama.”

“So do you,” I reply. He steps over to greet Nyree, and my mother, who’s short but sprite, smiles while cupping my cheek. “Mikaere, taku tama, I’ve missed this handsome face.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders and kiss her head. “Kua ngaro ano ahau i a koe, e whaea.” I’ve missed you too, Mom.

I want to miss the early morning traffic back to Ardsley, but I take a moment to look at my family. My mother hooks her arm in Nyree’s and holds Aroha’s hand while my father and I wheel the luggage. “So, what’s news my beautiful girls?” I hear my mother ask.

Nyree glances at me from over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eye. I shoot her a look because I asked her not to mention Dion in front of Aroha. But that doesn’t stop her from telling my mother, even if she’s speaking Māori. My mother gasps, looks at me, and continues talking in hushed whispers with my sister.

“A woman, huh,” my father chuckles. Fortunately, we’re far enough behind my sister, mother and daughter that they don’t hear. “It’s about time. I was worried you’d be single for the rest of your life.”

“It’s not like that,” I tell him. “We’re just friends.”

His smile is somewhat cheeky, but I’d expect nothing less than a good ribbing from my old man.

“So friends with bennies, then?”

My expression makes him laugh out loud, and he adds, “Don’t look at me like that, Mikaere, I was young once too, you know. In fact, that’s how your mum and I met.”

I groan. “I don’t want to hear that, Papa.”

“What?” He shrugs. “It’s true. I’m just glad you’re getting out there again, your mother worries that you work too much, and will grow old alone.”

Shaking my head, I say, “Mum worries too much.”

Fortunately, our conversation is cut short when we get to my truck. The girls all pile in, and my father hops into the passenger seat beside me. I check my phone, and see I have a voice note from Dion. I’m surprised, but also curious. I wonder if last night — and this morning — was as good for her as it was for me. And if she also thinks this arrangement is bizarre. I decide to listen to it when I get home, when I have some privacy, but rather than close the message, I accidentally hit play. And Dion’s voice comes through the sound system in my car because of the fucking bluetooth. I’m frantically trying to shut it off, but it’s not working. By the time I manage to stop it, my parents, my baby sister, and my daughter have heard, “You’re, uh, really good at that thing with your tongue,” along with, “I’ll let you know when I’m free so we can do it again.”

The cab of my truck is relatively quiet, but I can feel my father laughing in the passenger seat — he’s so big, when he laughs the truck shakes, too — and Nyree snickering behind me. My mother is speechless, and I refuse to look at her in the rearview mirror, but it’s my daughter who seals my fate.

“Papa, what did you do with your tongue?”

That’s when Nyree loses her battle with her own laughter, and I die a thousand deaths in the span of what must be thirty seconds.

Lord help me. This is going to be longest three weeks of my fucking life.