Chapter 12
Tori
The door swung open almost immediately, like he’d been hovering behind it. There he was, grinning like I’d just made his entire week.
“Tori!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up and then flitting down to the abomination I was holding in front of me like a shield. “And a … um, dessert? Is this for me?”
“Happy birthday and don’t read into this,” I grumbled.
He took a step back, still smiling, and opened the door wider, gesturing for me to come inside. “Too late.”
“It’s supposed to be a pavlova, but I messed up.” Taking a deep breath, I swallowed down my nerves and stepped over the threshold.
“A pavlova? Far out! They’re wicked tricky to get right. Thank you so much!”
I chanced a quick glance at his face, and he genuinely looked delighted.
“Kai! Who was at the — oh!” Kai’s uncle rounded the corner and stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of me.
“It’s the neighbor girl!” he called out cheerfully. His gaze dropped to the pavlova, which I was still miraculously holding, and he brightened up even more. “And she brought a … what is it?”
“Her name is Tori, and it’s a pavlova.” Kai piped up from behind me, and I almost jumped at how close he was. “For me.”
“Bloody hell! My nephew getting the special treatment now?” He gestured for me to step into the living room. “Come in and have a seat. It’s not every day we get a visitor.”
“Well, my birthday isn’t every day,” my shadow remarked as I tentatively ventured into the house and took note of the furniture, which was arranged exactly as Gran had instructed.
“Looks spiffy. Baked goods delivered unannounced? That’s wife material where I’m from. Let’s get some plates and tuck in.”
Kai grimaced with embarrassment, and I couldn’t help but feel slightly smug that it was him being embarrassed by one of his family members for once.
I was ushered toward the living room, pushed into the ‘good chair’, and forced to listen to endless praise about the smash-lova.
“Have you ever made a pavlova before? It looks bloody good!” Tāne gushed.
Were they looking at the same fucking thing as me? By this point, I was seriously questioning whether he was messing with me or if he actually thought my misshapen creation was a sacred offering.
Tāne strode off into the kitchen, presumably to get plates.
“It’s my birthday pavlova, I get first dibs!”
Kai pried the platter out of my hands and looked down at me, beaming. His eyes sparkled with joy, his teeth flashing brilliantly white, and the expression on his face softened.
“Thank you so much, Tori. It looks amazing, I can’t believe you remembered.”
I cleared my throat, averting my gaze and feeling my cheeks burn. “Of course I did. But it’s nothing really. It didn’t even come out right.”
“So, it’s got a little character. I know it’s going to taste good, it smells fucking delicious.” His voice was pitched low, in the warm tone he used when he wasn’t being annoying.
The way he carefully set the platter on the coffee table was akin to him handling a newborn. He was probably just afraid it would collapse even more if he set it down too roughly. For some reason, I thought it was cute nonetheless.
“I know it didn’t turn out the way it’s supposed to, so if you don’t like it you don’t have to—”
“I’d eat anything you make for me. Literally, anything.”
“Don’t make it weird,” I said quickly.
“Too late. You know it’s my specialty.” He flashed me another grin.
The moment we were all sitting, each with a plate in our hands, Tāne leaned back and sighed like a man settling in for a tale.
Before he could take a full breath, Kai took a bite of the pavlova and froze. I stared at him, my eyes wide, as his face contorted not with horror but with delight.
“Ohhh my God.” He closed his eyes like he was about to confess a deep spiritual revelation. “That’s proper. That’s actually proper.”
Tāne stabbed his fork in for a bite of his own, chewed once, and made a sound suspiciously resembling a dying whale. “Mate, I haven’t tasted a pav like this since we moved. Holy shit. I could cry.”
Meanwhile I took a bite — and immediately regretted my life choices.
It was … crunchy?
And gooey?
And weirdly sugary, to the point where my teeth ached in self-preservation.
I blinked down at the dessert, baffled.
Why would anyone want this?
Why would anyone choose this for their birthday?
What was wrong with cake? Normal fucking cake with goddamn frosting?
Kai caught sight of my expression and choked on a laugh. “You don’t like it.”
“It tastes like a melted marshmallow had an identity crisis,” I whispered.
Tāne slapped the table and guffawed. “She hates it! Oh, this is so good.”
Kai nudged my knee under the table with his. “It’s alright. More for us.”
He and Tāne immediately shoveled in another round of bites like feral hyenas who had been deprived of their homeland’s sacred dessert for too long. I stared at them like they were two fries short of a Happy Meal.
Finally, Tāne wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed happily. “This was so good, honestly. I haven’t had a pavlova this close to the real thing in ages.”
I forced down another tiny forkful just to be polite. It was still terrible, and its excessive sugar was still trying to kill me.
I didn’t know what was worse — the fact that they liked it or the fact that I’d made it.
Tāne pointed his fork at me as though I were a witness in a courtroom.
“So. Has he given you the sales pitch yet?”
Kai groaned into his hands. “Uncle, for the love of God—”
“About Australia.” Tāne continued, ignoring him entirely. “Where the beaches are ridiculous, the food’s good, and the people walk around barefoot because apparently flip-flops count as formal footwear.”
“They do if they’re clean.”
“Exactly my point.”
Kai lifted his head, squinting. “Mate, you’re acting like New Zealand is some enlightened paradise.”
Tāne sniffed. “We’ve got mountains.”
“You keep saying that like mountains solve everything.”
“They do, actually.” Tāne took another bite of pavlova. “They’re peaceful and quiet.”
“Yeah, right. Because that’s what Australia is lacking — huge areas where you can find peace and quiet.” Kai scoffed.
“No reptiles sneaking into your shoes.”
Kai pointed at him. “You act like Australia is out here hunting tourists. That’s just Queensland.”
“Please,” Tāne retorted, waving a hand. “Your entire country is a warning label.”
“And yours,” Kai shot back, “has more sheep than people.”
Tāne straightened up with indignation. “Majestic sheep. With culture.”
I choked on my water, and Kai looked vindicated.
“And another thing,” Tāne added, jabbing his fork for emphasis, “Australians argue about football codes like it’s a religion.”
Kai gasped. “We do not—”
“You do,” Tāne countered. “Rugby union versus rugby league. Don’t roll your eyes, boy. You all act like choosing the wrong one is treason.”
Kai threw his hands up. “Says the man whose entire nation will fistfight over which island is better!”
“That’s geography,” Tāne explained calmly. “At least our sports don’t spark existential crises.”
“Because no one watches them!” Kai snapped.
Tāne’s jaw dropped. “How dare you.”
I couldn’t stop laughing, partly because they were idiots and partly because the whole loud, messy dynamic felt … weirdly good. It was like something I’d never had before, but suddenly wanted more of.
Not like I’d ever get to see any of these places, so I’d just have to take their word for it.
“So what’s better?” I casually stabbed another forkful of dessert.
I deliberately averted my gaze at the smash-lova, biting the inside of my cheek to hide the smile threatening to break free.
Both men gasped in unison, as though I’d asked them to sacrifice a firstborn child.
Kai recovered first. “Australia.”
“New Zealand,” Tāne countered, sounding as scandalized as Gran had been when she first discovered Mrs. de Santis ‘stealing’ her brownie recipe (yeah, there’s a pattern there).
Risking a quick peek, I found them glaring at each other, both with equally betrayed, dramatic expressions on their faces.
I stoked the fire, biting back a snort. “Huh. Interesting. One of you is definitely wrong.”
Kai pointed his fork at Tāne. “He’s biased. Chronic case of national pride disease.”
Tāne didn’t hesitate. “Well, at least I managed to run away from a magpie chasing me.”
My head snapped up and Kai’s face turned murderous. “I panicked!”
“Oh?” I raised my brows in delight.
“He panicked, alright. So badly, in fact, that instead of running away, he kept running in circles around the very tree in which said magpie had its nest,’” Tāne deadpanned.
“I can still hear the flapping of the wings.” Kai shuddered.
“Right,” I hummed. “And you didn’t think to just run straight?”
“You have no idea what it’s like when they swoop down on you,” Kai insisted. “They chase everyone!”
Tāne looked at me, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “It singled him out.”
Kai groaned as I burst into laughter.
I pressed a fist against my mouth, trying — and failing — to stop myself laughing.
“A magpie,” I contemplated. “You know they’re, like, small-ish birds, right?”
Kai muttered something sounding like, “They are small but vicious!” which only made it worse. I doubled over, actually wiping tears from my eyes as I imagined him running in circles around a tree, being chased by a bird.
“Oh, this is—” I gasped, “—this is the greatest day of my life.”
Kai dropped his face into his hands. “Please don’t encourage him.”
“Encourage him?” I snorted. “I’m inviting him to continue. Tāne, I am begging you. More.”
Tāne sat back with the serene satisfaction of a man who had been waiting years for an eager audience.
“Well,” he conceded, folding his arms with theatrical gravity, “since you asked…”
Kai’s head snapped up. “Uncle. No.”
“Oh, absolutely yes.” I pointed my fork at him. “You brought this on yourself the moment you admitted to running from a bird.”
“It was a magpie! Have you ever been—”