Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I’ve never held a kid in my life. The last time Troy visited me in Wellington, his wife didn’t want anyone near Tommy, so I was spared the anxiety of dropping him.
Now all my senses are buzzing and everything is a weapon that he could lunge at and kill himself with. He’s wriggly too. “Hey, Tommy,” I coo. He pulls one of my curls and cries. I think he’s misunderstood his role in the action-reaction chain. My scalp is stinging and his cry becomes a wail. “Troy! I’ve broken him.”
Troy gives me a distracted double-thumbs up.
Laughter hits my nape, and I turn to see Damon approaching the counter.
“Let me.” Damon holds his hands out and Tommy dives towards him with a squee of delight, moulding against his side like a barnacle. Damon seats himself at a bar stool like this is something he always does. Maybe it is.
Troy spots Damon and calls out, “Kipper brought home a cane yesterday. It’s in the storeroom.”
“I’ll take it to Martha after lunch.”
“Don’t tell her it was Kipper. I’m in enough trouble over him as it is.”
“I’ll tell her it was Gretchen’s Pomeranian.”
They laugh easily and Troy heads into the kitchen. “Sandwich and smoothie coming up.”
“Coffee,” I yelp. But he’s gone.
Damon rises with Tommy, rounds the counter, and picks up a carafe of filter coffee. He sets the entire thing down in front of me and slips me a mug. “Troy needs to give Hailey more hours.”
I remember Hailey. Big blond ponytail, funky nails. Used to follow Damon around with her equally idolising school mates. She must be out of school now. A strange thought. So many things have changed over the years; I have to relearn it all. It makes me feel weird about avoiding Kōpuha Bay.
Yes, dodging Damon was part of why I hadn’t been back; but only part of it. The city offered anonymity, and after the lottery thing I thought people here would swarm me for money. I don’t handle that sort of pressure well. I preferred sitting in my Wellington villa and secretly donating to refurnish the community hall, fund art-retreat programs, and support various elderly and LGBT charities.
Turns out there was little to worry about. No one seems to care I won the lottery. I was hiding for nothing.
“What’s that frown for?” Damon asks.
I look from him to Tommy and back again.
So many things have changed.
I clear my throat. “Could I get another mug? I’m expecting someone.”
He slides me another and readjusts Tommy on his hip. “Date?”
“Anything not to live with my mother.” But it’s more than that. I have Karl’s assertion that I’m not boyfriend material on my mind, and I really, really don’t want that to be true. “Are you good with Tommy while . . .”
“Go on. Tommy and I have a standing lunch date. Don’t we, Tommy?”
I leave that bizarre scene and try to ignore the chaotic thumping in my chest as I sit at a table by the window.
Jack slouches in ten minutes later wearing a tracksuit with yogurt spilled down one leg. At least I hope it’s spilled yogurt.
I catch Damon raising a brow and turn more fully towards Jack.
Never mind the state of his clothes. Clothes don’t mean . . . everything.
I smile over the table. We exchange heys, and I pour him a coffee, and that’s where the conversation stagnates.
We drink faster.
The silence is a heavy weight that’s making me fold my napkin into t-shirt designs. I can’t stand it. “Theweatherisn’titquitesomethinghere?Alwayschanging.Fickle.”
“What?”
I repeat myself. Slower this time. Each word adding another degree of flush to my face.
He drains his cup and his chair legs scud across wood as if he’s about to leave.
My stomach sinks. Maybe Mum and Karl are right. Not even Jumping Jack who jumps anyone wants to jump me.
I reach out like he might fade away and take all my dignity with him. “Wait. Let’s have a do-over.” I crack a smile. “I don’t think I started this right.”
His chair is still scudding. He slowly rises. “Dude, you’re cute, but . . .”
“Could we linger on the cute part?”
“Super not feeling a connex between us.”
Connection? “Give me a second chance, maybe we can forge one. I can be more alluring than this.”
He looks unconvinced. “Not sure we fit, eh.”
“We’ve only had one coffee, though?”
“Kinda can tell by the way you speak.”
“I can speak differently.” I lower my voice. “Keep it chill, y’know?”
“Nah, that’s not it. I like loud. More . . . dynamic.”
“I . . . could be louder.”
He drops a few coins on the table to cover his coffee.
“I can be more dynamic!”
Jack hightails out of there, and Damon, witness to it all, winces.
Chapter Four
The week passes, and with it comes the news my ex will be visiting over the weekend with documents. That conversation has me screwing up the courage to face Tai and ask if Hercules Morse is still an option.