Chapter Sixteen
Chessie
The next morning, the first thing I think when I open my eyes is Oh My God.
I didn’t really sext with Kingi last night.
Did I? I snatch up my phone and open it hurriedly, and it goes straight to the messages page.
I scroll up in disbelief, my face growing hot as I re-read some of the things he said the night before.
I’ll hold you down and fuck you and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Are you wet for me, honey? Are you going to come for me?
Oh God oh God oh God. What have I done?
I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. Deep breaths, Chessie. It’s okay. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not as if you really had sex with him.
But I vaguely remember thinking last night that it was like having sex with him.
It was so intimate, just the two of us in our own private virtual world, voicing our fantasies about each other, exchanging the most personal details.
I think about him coming on the carpet and press my lips together to stop the giggle that threatens to leak out. It’s not funny.
But it is funny, just a bit. Maybe I’m being too strait-laced about this.
I let out a long breath. Jesus, Chessie, lighten up a bit.
Ultimately what harm has been done? I feel as if I’m wearing a black bra beneath a white top—my inexperience and naivety is showing through.
People do this all the time. But you can’t catch a disease from it.
You can’t get pregnant. It’s cheeky and naughty, but in the end it’s harmless.
The worst that can happen is that one of you takes more meaning from it emotionally, and obviously that’s going to be me.
I just have to open my eyes and accept the reality.
We’d both had too much to drink, we’re two young healthy people who are currently without partners, and we got carried away.
He’s not madly attracted to me. This isn’t the romance of the century.
It was a one-off bit of fun that doesn’t mean a thing.
Content that I’ve partitioned it off into a box from which it can’t escape, I decide it’s time to get on with my day and slide out of bed.
I shower and dress, pulling on a tee and a pair of cargo pants. It’s Sunday, and I don’t normally work on Sundays, but I took a few hours off yesterday, and I want to make up for it this morning.
Lisa is in the kitchen, buttering some toast. “Morning,” she says as I come out.
“Morning.” I go over to the coffee machine and turning it on.
“How did it go with Kingi last night?” she asks. “Was it a good conversation?”
Suddenly, I don’t want to tell her the details.
In the past, with Ria, we’ve sometimes discussed our sex lives, maybe laughed over a silly incident or talked over something we’re concerned about.
But what happened last night feels like a very sweet, private moment. It’s not something I want to share.
So I say, “Yeah, we had a good chat. I said we’d catch up maybe later today and talk a bit more about it.”
“Oh, that’s good. I checked Kōrero by the way, and there’s no sign yet of anything about Sabrina.”
I feel a surge of relief. Of course it’s still early, but she did say she was going to tell them first thing. Has she changed her mind? Was it really just a threat to throw Kingi off guard?
After tipping the espresso into my takeaway cup, I steam some milk, pour it over the hot coffee, and give it a stir. “Oh, I forgot to ask, did Ria come home?”
She studies her toast for a moment. Then she lifts her gaze to mine and gives a small shake of her head. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs.
I shrug. “Makes no difference to me.” I give her a smile. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah okay, have a good day.”
I go out, get in Dennis, and head over to Midnight. I’m going to do a final bit of landscaping on the back terrace; I’ve had some hebe ‘wiri mist’ delivered to put between the lavender and flax, and it’s a nice May day, perfect for planting.
While I drive, I let my thoughts linger on the fact that Ria didn’t come home.
The sad thing is that Tamati hasn’t surprised me at all.
To be honest, neither has Ria—I know what she’s like.
I suppose it’s more that I’m sad about the harsh finality of it all.
I didn’t want to get back with him. He was very cruel to me outside the shop, and he killed any remaining feelings I had for him.
I don’t know why it was such a shock to hear about the two of them.
I suppose there’s no understanding the human heart.
It feels what it feels. We can’t always analyze our emotions. They just are.
It doesn’t take me long to get to Midnight, and I park Dennis in his usual spot at the end of the car park.
I get out and lock him, then head to the shed.
Sure enough, the hebe plants are waiting outside on a trailer, delivered by another member of Dad’s team yesterday.
They’re native to New Zealand, hardy, low maintenance, and beautiful all year round, producing white or lilac flowers like a froth of lace that attract bees and butterflies.
At least plants don’t let you down. The thought comes to me with a wave of emotion that rises inside me. It’s so stupid! Why am I upset? I’m so mixed up right now. It must be hormones or something.
But I know what it is; I can’t deal with the complexities of other people and their actions and emotions. This is why I prefer my own company. It’s just too hard to fathom people out.
I drop to my haunches to test the moisture in the pots with my fingers, examine the plants, and inhale the delicate scent. Then I push up and turn to fetch my spade…
…and bump straight into someone I hadn’t realized was standing behind me.
“Oh!” I hadn’t heard anyone approach and my heart hammers.
And then I realize who it is, and I slide my arms around his waist and bury my face in his neck.
*
Kingi
“Oh!” Surprised at her reaction, I close my arms around her. I’d half expected her to slap me around the face. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” She’s buried her face in my shoulder, and the word is muffled by my tee.
“Hey.” I rub her back. “Everything okay?”
She nods. Then she looks up at me. Her eyes shine as she shakes her head.
“What’s up?” I lower my arms, but she refuses to let go, and in the end I hug her again. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Is it your father?”
“No, he’s fine, as far as I know.” She clears her throat and moves back a little. “I’m okay.”
“Tell me,” I say firmly. “Is it about last night? Sabrina, and… what we did?”
“No, not really.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, a little shakily. “Ria and Tamati hooked up last night.”
“Ouch.” Did I say that because I can imagine how it’s hurt her? Or because it feels as if her reaction stabs me in the heart? “I’m sorry to hear that.” I lower my arms, and we separate.
She rubs her nose. “It’s okay, it’s stupid really, I mean it’s not like we were just on a break; it was definitely over.”
I tip my head to the side to look at her face as she studies her shoes. “Are you sure?”
“Oh yes. I had no intention of getting back with him. But it’s just so… final. It was a shock. I don’t know why.”
“Sometimes what we tell ourselves and what we feel aren’t the same thing.” I choose my words carefully. She still likes Tamati, and I think she was hoping they’d get back together.
But she insists, “That’s not it. I didn’t tell you, but I saw him outside the dress shop, and he was quite cruel to me.
I didn’t want anything more to do with him.
It’s more that it felt like the closing of a door, you know?
The final page in a chapter. And I want to be a tough, confident, independent woman, and be made of rubber and bounce back without a second thought, but I’m not.
I feel as if I’m made of porcelain or glass. I’m so weak, and I hate it.”
“Weak?” I stare at her. “You’re not weak.
You’re the strongest woman I know. It’s been an incredibly tough few months for you, with your breakup, your dad being so ill, having to cope with Mark’s addiction, and all the financial issues that came with it.
You’ve been under huge pressure, Chess. It’s no surprise you feel vulnerable and fragile.
But that doesn’t mean you’re weak. It just means you need to give yourself time to heal and recover.
You’re going to be fine. What’s that Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold?
Kintsugi? It highlights the cracks rather than hiding them, right?
It symbolizes that your scars are part of you, and they give you beauty and resilience. ”
Tears well in her eyes, and she presses her fingers to her lips as she fights not to let them fall.
“You’re going to be fine,” I say softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “My beautiful wood nymph.”
“Tamati never called me beautiful.” Her voice is little more than a squeak. A tear spills over her lashes.
“Then he’s a fucking idiot. Come here.” I pull her into my arms, and she buries her face into my neck again. “Silly girl,” I murmur.
She turns her head and rests her cheek on my shoulder, letting her emotions settle like leaves coming to rest after being swept up in a breeze.
I think maybe she’s just exhausted from everything that’s happened.
She’s asking too much of herself. She really has been through it, and what’s happening between us is pushing her over the line.
I kiss her hair. “I’m sorry if this whole fake engagement thing was a step too far for you. I didn’t think about that. I always assume everyone’s like me, and I forgot that you might not enjoy social engagements.”
“Nobody’s like you, Kingi,” she says wryly.
I chuckle. Her hair is in a ponytail, and I run it through my fingers. It’s like red silk.
“And I’m sorry about Sabrina,” I add. “Sorrier than you’ll ever know.”
“It’s not your fault.”