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As soon as the call ends I collapse against the breakfast bar, my face buried in my folded arms. “Fuck me, I need a drink.”

Glass clinks against the marble benchtop next to my ear, and when I lift my head there's a bottle of ice-cold beer waiting for me.

“Ngā mihi nui. I’m shattered.”

“I bet.” He sits back down in front of his own laptop with a beer. “How fuckin’ lucky is all this? You couldn't ask for better timing.”

“See? All my stalking was meant to be. It was for the greater good.”

“I’ll never doubt you again,” he quips. “So, I’ve found all the info on importing dogs into Aotearoa. With the vet happy to sort things on her end, it should be straightforward enough if that’s what Lizzie chooses to do.”

“I’m sure she’s going to be grateful you’ve done the research.”

“Yep.”

“And?” I ask, knowing he has more to say.

“And I think this means we need to be on the next plane to Queenstown. I want to have this conversation with her in person. There’s too many moving parts to explain it all over the phone.”

I’m already one step ahead, bringing up a search on my phone. “There’s a flight at three. If we leave now, we’ll make it.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lizzie

I’m going to make it. I’m going to make it. I’m going to make it.

I repeat the mantra in my head as if it will magically slow down time, breathing heavily as I power walk past everyone else meandering down the sidewalk. The minutes seem to be melting away every time I glance at my phone, and I’ve only got three of them left to make it to the dock.

I break into a sprint when I round the last bend and spot the Queenstown lakefront and the big old steamboat floating in the lake. Thankfully, I do make it and with enough time to blend into the back of the queue that’s still boarding. I probably would’ve cried if the boat had sailed away without me—it wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve missed some sort of transportation—but I’m here now, and I’m going to enjoy this two-hour boat cruise that I’ve chosen to be on rather than moping around at my hotel.

I’m definitely not going to pay attention to all the loved-up couples and packs surrounding me while wishing that Matiu and Scott were here with me.

I choose one of the outdoor seats, simply because I’d rather have fresh air than deal with the scents of a hundred-plus bodies indoors on a hot summer’s day. The middle-aged woman beside me nods at the shoreline, where the whole town seems to be congregating. “It’s packed out there today, eh?”

“Very busy,” I agree, tucking my small backpack under my seat. “I suppose I should’ve expected that, given it’s New Year’s Eve.” There are market stalls and activities for kids, and I’m going to spend an hour or two exploring it all after the cruise.

“It gets like this every year. You’d think I’d learn my lesson, but I’m a creature of habit. We’ve been coming down here every summer for thirty-odd years now.”

“This is my first time here. The mountains and lakes here are really beautiful, but very different to the North Island.”

“Have you been travelling up north a bit?”

I nod.

“I’m Sarah, by the way. And these are my husbands.” She says their names, but I’m too distracted by the fact that they all have the same haircut and matching t-shirts in different colours to pay attention. It’s a little weird. All three men smile and nod in acknowledgement.

“Lizzie. It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Are you here alone?”

Out of my periphery I watch the alpha next to her—I’m just naming them husband-one, husband-two, and husband-three in my head—squeeze her knee briefly, and then the crew starts the safety briefing, pointing out where life jackets are located and the various hazards associated with a steamship that’s over 110 years old. When that’s all done, I finally answer.

“I’m travelling alone down here. My ah…” I roll my eyes, my face heating up even as I begin to overshare, unable to stop the compulsion to do so. “My scent matches are up in Auckland and Northland at the moment. I met them after I landed in Auckland at the start of the month.”

Sarah and her alphas all stare at me with varying degrees of shock on their faces.

“They’re not with you right now?” husband-three asks.