Chapter Two
Joel
At just after nine, the Uber draws up out the front of Zoe’s parents’ house. I’ll call another when we’re ready to leave, so I say thanks to the driver, walk up the path, and knock on the door.
I haven’t been here before and haven’t met her parents. To my surprise, I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? This is a business trip. We work together, or at least we work in the same area. There’s nothing romantic about it. I’m hardly about to ask her father for her hand in marriage.
My lips curve up as I imagine what she’d say if I did. I’m half tempted, just to see the look on her face.
The door opens to reveal a teenager, around fourteen years old. She has the same dark hair as Zoe, although hers is longer and needs a brush, and her eyes are brown whereas Zoe’s are a bright green. She’s pretty, like Zoe, and dressed completely in black—black jeans, black tee, black eyeliner.
She blushes, then holds out her hand. “Hello. I’m Olivia. I’m Zoe’s sister.”
Hiding a smile at the blush and her formal introduction, I shake her hand. “Hello, Olivia, nice to meet you. Is Zoe there?”
She hesitates and glances over her shoulder. “She said to tell you to wait out here. They’re arguing.” She winces at the sound of raised voices.
I frown. It sounds as if they’re coming from the kitchen, but I can’t see into the room from the doorway. I hear Zoe say, “You can’t do that,” and then a man’s voice replies with, “It’s not the end of the world. Stop overreacting.”
I look at Olivia, who’s fiddling with the catch on the door. “What are they arguing about?”
“Mum and Dad are getting a divorce.” She doesn’t look at me.
“Oh shit.” That earns me a wry look. “Is Zoe upset?”
“Yeah.” She scratches at a mark below the catch. “Mum wants to move to live with Grandma in Australia. She wants to take me and Rory.”
I know that Zoe has four brothers and sisters. Zoe’s the oldest. I’ve met Hannah, who’s twenty-one and at Victoria University here in Wellington. George has also just started university, although he’s in Auckland. So I’m guessing those two will stay here with their father. But it doesn’t surprise me that their mum wants to take Olivia and Rory, who’s the youngest, with her.
On cue, a young boy of around eight or nine pokes his head around the wall, then comes forward to stand beside Olivia. She glances at him and puts her arm around him, which touches me.
“Are you Joel?” he asks.
“Yes. You must be Rory.” He also has dark hair, although he has big green eyes that look up at me sorrowfully, a bit like Puss in Boots’.
He nods. Then the two of them look over their shoulders as someone—maybe their mum—yells, “This is hard enough without you laying on the guilt!”
Rory looks back at his sister, and his bottom lip trembles. “I don’t want to go to Australia.”
Olivia squeezes his shoulders. “We’ll be okay. It’ll be fun.”
“I like my school here,” he protests. “I don’t want to go to a new one.”
“You’ll soon make new friends.” She sends me a pleading glance. “Won’t he?”
“Of course,” I reply, although personally I think people assume children are more resilient than they actually are. “Whereabouts in Australia does your grandma live?”
“Darwin,” Olivia says.
My eyebrows rise. Jesus. Darwin is the capital city of the Northern Territory, right at the top of the country, and it has a tropical savanna climate. Temperatures can reach forty degrees centigrade or over a hundred Fahrenheit, and it experiences tropical cyclones and monsoon rains, a far cry from the temperate climate of Wellington.
“The didgeridoo came from near Darwin,” I say, which is the only interesting fact I can remember about the place right now. Rory frowns. Olivia looks amused, as if wondering why the guy in front of her would think saying something so idiotic would comfort her brother.
She looks over her shoulder a third time, then sends me another pleading glance. “Can you help?”
I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “I’m not sure how, if she asked me to stay here.”
As voices rise again, though, Rory turns and buries his face in her shoulder, and she hugs him and says, “Please?”
Well, we do need to get to the airport soon. I step into the hallway, toe off my Converses, then walk barefoot into the living room.
The kitchen is on the far side, overlooking the garden, and Zoe and her parents are standing around the square table in the center. Her mother looks like her girls, although the dark hair that’s shoulder length and wavy is threaded with gray. Evan Moon is average height and slightly overweight with brown hair thinning on top. He sees me first and stares, and then the two women see his expression and follow his gaze.
“Oh,” Zoe says. She walks around the table and crosses the living room to stand in front of me. “I’m sorry, I asked Olivia to keep you outside.”
I look down at her. She’s around five foot six, so a good six inches shorter than me. I think she has her dark hair colored, because it has a purple sheen to it in the bright sunlight that’s streaming through the windows. Her big green eyes are shining, and as she sees that I’ve noticed, she drops her gaze and rubs her nose. She’s close to tears, whether through frustration or sadness, I’m not sure, maybe both.
“It’s not Olivia’s fault,” I murmur. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She looks back up at me, and I give her a small smile. Then I look over at her parents and walk toward them. “I’m so sorry if I’m interrupting,” I announce. “I’m Joel—I work with Zoe. I was a bit worried we’ll be late for the plane, that’s all.”
“Of course,” Evan says, coming forward to shake my hand. “We didn’t mean to make you both late, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not a problem at all.”
“He’s always too early,” Zoe says, going over to a suitcase in the kitchen and extending the handle.
I grin and go across to Diana Moon and shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hello, Joel. We’ve heard a lot about you.” She glances at Zoe, who sends her mother a look that could have killed at twenty paces.
“Oh?” I ask innocently. “Extolling my virtues, was she?”
“Something like that,” Diana says, with enough amusement to convince me that Zoe has probably taken time to convince them why we’re not suited by listing all my faults. I’m not insulted. There are a lot of them.
“I’d better get going,” Zoe says. “We’ll talk more when I get back.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Diana says.
Zoe pulls her suitcase into the living room, then stops and turns to face her parents. “I’m begging you, don’t do this,” she says softly. “Please.”
Evan looks at Diana. Diana turns away, picks up a basket of washing, and goes out through the sliding doors into the garden.
Evan looks back at his daughter. “She’s made up her mind.”
“I don’t see why they can’t stay here with you,” she whispers. I’m guessing she’s talking about her younger siblings.
Evan’s gaze flicks to me, then back to her. “We’ll talk about it later.”
She bites her lip. Then she takes her case, turns, and walks past me toward the front door.
Her father and I exchange awkward smiles, and then I follow her out.
“I’ll see you two later,” she’s saying, in the process of hugging Olivia. Rory looks up at me and I smile and ruffle his hair, conscious of Zoe watching me.
She releases her sister, then turns to Rory and wraps her arms around him.
He buries his face in her shoulder. “I don’t want to go.”
“I know.”
“I want to stay here.”
“Dad has to move for his job,” she says gently. “They’ve transferred him to Auckland, you know that.”
“Can I come and live with you?”
She rests her lips on the top of his head and closes her eyes for a moment. Then she releases him, takes her case and picks up a backpack that was sitting by the front door, and walks out.
Rory walks away and disappears around the corner, no doubt heading for his room. I look at Olivia, who heaves a big sigh and says, “Sorry about that.”
“No problem at all. Nice to meet you.”
She nods toward Zoe. “She’s very upset. I’ll miss her, of course, but I don’t mind going to Oz. She’s very close to Rory, though, and she hates that he’s so miserable about going. Look after her.”
“I will.” Impressed that she’s so concerned about her sister, I follow Zoe down the path, taking out my phone to call for an Uber.
When I’m done, I turn to her and say, “You okay?”
She bites her lip, fixing her gaze on my throat, and shakes her head. “Not really.”
“Are you more worried about your parents, or Olivia and Rory?”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she presses her fingers to her lips.
“Aw. Come here.” I pull her into my arms for a hug.
It’s an instinctive move, but it’s the first time we’ve ever had a cuddle, and goose bumps pop out all over me. We’ve been friends since Elora first introduced us, just a month or two after they met at university, so maybe three years now, and as a group we’re quite touchy-feely, so it’s not that we’ve never touched. Zoe will occasionally nudge my arm when trying to get my attention or poke me when I’ve annoyed her. I’ve taken her hand when leading her somewhere or rested a hand in the small of her back to guide her across the room. But this is different.
She feels smaller than I anticipated in my arms. She projects a strong, capable persona, and for some reason I thought she’d feel substantial and solid, but instead she feels like how I’d imagine it would feel to hold a baby rabbit. She clutches my T-shirt with both hands and rests her forehead on my collarbone, then exhales and slides her arms around me. Oh yes, that’s better.
We stand there like that for several minutes.
I don’t say anything, and neither does she. For a while, I don’t move, afraid to break the spell. She’s soft, pressed up against me, and I can feel her chest rise and fall with each breath, which whispers across my throat. I rest my lips on her hair, enjoying the strawberry smell of her shampoo.
Last year, she cut her hair very short, which I loved because it made her look so striking, but I have to say I prefer it like this. It’s styled in a bob, but most of the time it’s slightly windblown and ruffled. It’s parted on the left, and she tucks the left side behind her ear, but the right side swings forward like a curtain.
She usually wears black eyeliner, often drawn to wings at the edges, which makes her look a little like Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra , especially when she uses gold or blue eyeshadow. She rarely uses lipstick, though, and her lips are free of color and pale pink. It always makes me think that she’s just been kissed.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in a skirt. She wears black or dark-blue skinny jeans and tees, leggings with oversize shirts, or capri pants if she wants to smarten up. She did wear a fantastic pantsuit to the museum opening. If she hadn’t been with that fucking idiot, Charlemagne, I’d have dragged her off to a broom cupboard and kissed her until she saw stars.
She absolutely fascinates me, and despite having turned me down fifteen times since she broke up with her boyfriend, I’m determined to convince her we’re meant to be together.
The Uber finally draws up in front of us, and Zoe clears her throat and moves back, then, not looking at me, gets into the car. I wait until she swings her legs in, close the door, put the luggage in, and get in in the other side. We buckle ourselves in, and I confirm with the driver that we’re heading for the airport.
Then I glance across at her and murmur, “You okay?”
She nods and tucks her hair behind her left ear. Then she finally looks at me. “I’m guessing you got the gist of what’s going on.”
“Olivia told me your parents are getting a divorce. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s not unexpected. They’ve not been happy for a while. I mean, that’s sad, but Rory’s nine now, and they don’t need to stay together for the kids anymore. Dad finding out he has to move to Auckland was kind of the last straw. Mum didn’t want to go, and she decided she wants to move to Australia.”
“Yeah, Olivia said, to Darwin.”
“Our grandmother lives there. Mum wants to take Olivia and Rory.”
“And Rory doesn’t want to go.”
She shakes her head and looks out of the window, resting her lips on her fingers. I think she’s near to tears.
I don’t say anything for a while, letting her gather herself as the Uber negotiates the heavy traffic. After a while, when she seems more composed, I say, “Are you upset because your mum would be breaking up the family? Or is it just that you wouldn’t see her and Olivia and Rory very often?”
She clears her throat. “A little of both.”
I glance at her. “You could go over there frequently though, couldn’t you?”
“It’s at least fifteen hundred dollars return, Joel, and that’s only if you book a long way in advance. Some of the flights are close to three grand. I don’t have that kind of money just sitting around.”
I look out of the side window. A distant relative of mine made a lot of money in the Gold Rush of the 1860s, and as a result my family is very wealthy. When I turned twenty-one, I inherited a significant fortune, most of which remains in my savings account as I live off my own earnings, but it does mean that when I travel I can do it in style and stay in high-end hotels without having to worry about how much I’m spending. I forget that most people have to budget and save up.
“I can’t believe she’s going to do it,” she says, the words bursting out of her the way buttons fly off if you pull two sides of a shirt too hard. Why does this girl always make me think about taking off my clothes? “How can she even think about moving over there? I’m so angry with her.”
“I’m guessing she misses her mother.”
“Yes, but I think she just wants to punish Dad, and me.”
I frown at her. “I get your dad, but you? Why would she want to punish you?”
She looks away and doesn’t reply.
We don’t talk again until we get to the airport. The Uber drops us off by the domestic gate, we collect our cases from the boot, then head inside.
“This way,” I say, gesturing away from the check-in machines to one of the smaller gates.
She joins me, eyebrows rising. “You haven’t .”
“Booked a charter flight? Of course I have. I’m not flying cattle class with all the poor fuckers.”
Her lips curve up. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m joking.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not.” I smirk and lead her to the desk. We check in and deliver our cases to the flight attendant, then, carrying our flight bags, we follow the attendant out onto the tarmac and across to the plane.
It’s an eight-seater, with black leather chairs in twos facing each other across low polished wooden tables. Zoe and I take two window seats facing each other across a table, and the flight assistant gives us a short safety briefing. The pilot informs us we’ll be landing in Kerikeri in just over an hour, and a few minutes later we’re in the air, heading for the Bay of Islands.
I watch Zoe as she looks down at the rapidly disappearing shops and houses beneath us, to be replaced by the forested hills surrounding the city. She rests her forehead against the glass, and her expression is sad.
“I’m so sorry about your parents,” I say gently. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
She turns her green gaze back to me. Wow, her eyes are stunning. She hesitates, bites her bottom lip, then shakes her head. “No. But thank you.”
“Would some good sex help?”
That makes her laugh. She leans back in her chair, her sadness disappearing. “Joel Bell. Honestly.”
“What? I’m serious.”
“I know you are. That’s what’s so shocking. You’re so brazen with it.”
I shrug. “Best to be open, I’ve always found.”
“Oh, you do this a lot, do you?”
“Only with you.”
She scoffs. “I know that ain’t true.”
I chuckle. “I haven’t had a girlfriend in over a year.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Why not? Run through all the girls on Tinder in Wellington, have you?”
“I don’t go on Tinder.”
She gives me a curious look. “Why not?”
“I like meaningful relationships.” She giggles, and my lips curve up. “I’m serious,” I protest.
We pause as the flight attendant comes over and asks if we’d like anything to eat or drink. We decide on coffee and croissants with preserves, and she goes away to sort it out.
Zoe leans her chin on her hand, studying me. “How many girls have you been with?”
“Wow. Totally not answering that question.”
“Why not?”
“How many guys have you been with?”
She runs her tongue over her teeth and doesn’t reply.
“Yeah,” I say, “I thought not.”
The flight attendant brings over some cutlery and the tiny jars of preserves, then disappears again. I pick up a tiny packet of butter and turn it over in my fingers. “Have you seen Charlemagne since you broke up?”
She gives me a sarcastic look. “Don’t call him that.”
“Charles the Great. It’s a compliment.”
“Which you don’t mean in the slightest.”
“Of course not. The guy’s a knob.”
Her lips curve up. “Why didn’t you like him?”
“Because he had you.”
“He didn’t have me. He never had me.” She looks away, stiff and resentful.
I study her face, thinking how gorgeous she is. She’s smart and sharp, sometimes prickly, and she’s not afraid to tell you if she doesn’t like what you’re saying. She’s feisty and independent, but vulnerable and a little broken, I think, although I don’t yet know why.
Her gaze comes back to me. “So why haven’t you dated? Just been too busy working?”
“Partly.”
A frown flickers on her brow. “So what’s the other part?”
I study her mouth, which is, as usual, free of lipstick and pale pink. “You really have no idea?”
She blinks. “Because of me?”
I lift my gaze back to meet her, but don’t reply.
“You’re kidding me,” she says.
“Zoe, I’ve asked you out more times than any other girl I know.”
“You’re only interested in the chase. If you had me, you’d forget about me the next day.”
Not smiling, I keep my gaze on hers, turning the packet around in my fingers. Slowly, her face turns pink.
The flight attendant comes back with a tray containing our coffee and croissants, and she places them between us. We thank her and she goes away, and we busy ourselves with opening the packets of butter and the preserves.
Zoe breaks off a piece of croissant, smears some raspberry jam over it, and eats it. I do the same with strawberry jam, and we eat, watching each other.
She swallows and licks a crumb off her lip. “Joel… I wasn’t kidding yesterday. It’s not going to happen.”
I have a mouthful of coffee to wash the croissant down. “Can you explain why?”
“I’m not looking for a meaningful relationship.”
“So let’s just have sex.”
She tries not to laugh. “Joel…”
“Tell me why you won’t have a meaningful relationship with me. You were with Charlemagne for a couple of years.”
She looks down and breaks off another piece of croissant. “I don’t want another relationship. Not for a long time. Maybe even ever.”
“Why?”
“Jesus. Do you like whelks?”
“Sorry, what?”
“I imagine you like wheedling them out of their shells, because you seem to enjoy doing the same to me.”
I grin. “I’m interested.”
“I don’t know why. I’m really not that interesting.”
Christ, I think she actually believes that.
I lean forward and fix my gaze on hers. “That’s where you’re wrong. You fascinate me. You have done since the moment I met you. I want to go on a date with you. Take you to dinner. Talk with you. Figure you out. And then I want to do it again. And again. And eventually, when you’re ready, I want to take you to bed. And I want to keep taking you to bed for the rest of my days. I’m a determined man, Zoe. I don’t mind a bit of a chase. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re going to put me off, because it won’t work. I always get what I want in the end. Just so you know.”