Chapter Twenty-Three
Luke
We spend all of the next day in bed.
Well, technically not all day, as we get up to make ourselves food or take delivery of a meal via room service. And we go for a walk along the beach in the afternoon. But otherwise, we remain in bed and spend the day talking, kissing, and making love.
It’s absolute bliss for me. I don’t want to stop touching her, and she doesn’t seem to want to be apart either.
Sometimes, we listen to music or watch a movie on the TV in the bedroom.
At other times, I turn her over and cuddle up behind her, and we just look out at the ocean, while I trail my fingers up and down her arm, and she hugs the pillow and sighs.
We take time to explore each other’s bodies, getting to learn every inch of each other’s skin.
I kiss every mole and freckle on her, and kiss and suck everywhere a man is able to kiss and suck.
I’m filled with delight at her obvious pleasure, and the fact that at no point does she ask me to stop or push me away.
The day is broken only by a few phone calls—one from Ella, checking in to tell us there’s no news; one from the police, informing us they’re still analyzing all the evidence; and the final one from Marcus, making sure Aurelia is okay.
She tells him she’s relaxing and reading, and doesn’t admit that I’m lying beside her, naked, ready to feed her chocolate when she comes off the phone.
That night, I still wake around two a.m., trembling and sweating. But Aurelia just kisses me and soothes me, and I quickly fall into a dreamless sleep and don’t wake until sunrise, so clearly something about her presence is a calming influence.
The next day, I talk to Ella first thing, who tells me the police say they’re making progress, but she doesn’t have anything concrete to report.
It’s frustrating, but she says most of the team have been working fourteen-hour shifts, especially Rick, who’s working through the camera footage to see if there’s anything he’s missed.
Afterward, Aurelia suggests we take a walk into Port Evermore.
I’m hesitant, because the town won’t be as safe as 35 South with its fences and security cameras, but she promises she’s not planning to give me the slip.
She’s too free a spirit to keep caged for long, and I don’t think the stalker would have followed us here, so I agree on the proviso that she sticks to me like glue.
The storm clouds have passed, and it’s a beautifully sunny day. We slather on sun lotion, don sunglasses and baseball caps again, and set off around eleven along the main road west out of 35 South toward the town.
Gabriel offered to take us in, but we’re both happy to walk the thirty minutes or so, content to spend the time together, holding hands and talking.
To our left, Russell, Paihia, and Waitangi glint in the distance, while to our right, the rolling hills are lined with vineyards and dotted with sheep.
Individual properties nestle deep in the valleys—luxury homes for the wealthy, who no doubt come here to escape the hustle of the city and to enjoy the better weather.
Eventually, though, we reach the bustling town.
As we walk along the waterfront, we can see one of the frequent cruise ships that visit moored not far away.
Several visitors are taking photographs of the impressive pou whenua or carved wooden pole that represents the first Polynesian navigators who reached Aotearoa centuries earlier.
We also occasionally pass people wearing lanyards, reminding us there’s a conference at 35 South—no wonder it’s busy!
I’d read that the town grew up around the original nineteenth-century whaling settlement, and as we follow the signs for the town center, I can feel the history lingering like salt in the sea breeze.
The white weatherboard buildings are punctured by old, large pōhutukawa trees.
The streets still follow the contours of the old whaling settlement, lined with lovingly restored cottages and heritage buildings that now house cafés, wine bars, and boutique hotels.
The wealth that would have arrived gradually is evident in the superyachts moored by the pier, and the luxury lodges and holiday homes perched in the hills above the bay.
But as we explore, it soon becomes clear that beneath the polish, it remains a town where fishermen still head out before dawn, children bike to school, and everyone seems to know everyone else’s business.
Signs of its roots are visible in the names of the streets, shops, and restaurants.
We walk down Cutter Street, pass The Black Anchor tavern and The Captain’s Table restaurant, and stop in a gift shop called Salt & Sage to check out the souvenirs.
At the junction of Cutter Street and Harpoon Lane stands a bronze statue of Captain James Cook, one hand shading his eyes toward the bay.
This appears to be the oldest part of town.
Aurelia stops walking and says, “Oh, what a lovely place.” A beautiful two-storey building stretches half the length of the street.
It has wide verandas, tall sash windows, cream-painted weatherboards, and dark green shutters.
In the center, an original stained-glass fanlight declares its roots as the Evermore Maritime Exchange, founded in 1868.
The building now appears to be divided into three.
To the left, the Maritime Museum has old photographs of the town in the windows and a huge whaling harpoon that could have taken down Moby Dick.
To the right is The Lantern Café, from which emits the mouthwatering aromas of coffee and cinnamon scrolls.
In the middle, a carved wooden sign declares it to be Evermore Books.
“Ooh, I’ve just finished my book,” Aurelia declares, and I smile and follow her as she approaches the double timber doors.
A brass bell over the door rings as we open it and go inside.
It takes a moment for my eyesight to adjust, and I breathe in the not-unpleasant smell of old buildings and books while I wait.
I imagine it hasn’t changed much over the years.
Numerous solid kauri shelves reach almost to the ceiling, reached by old rolling ladders.
The worn timber floors creak as we cross them, and the cash register looks older than most of the customers.
The book selection is kind of old-fashioned: literary fiction and classics, New Zealand history, biographies, and gardening and cook books.
Aurelia finds a single bookcase housing a few romance novels near the back.
I browse through the shelf of thrillers, then wander around, looking at the small cards containing hand-written recommendations, and the faded paintings on the walls.
“Looking for something in particular?” a young woman asks from behind the desk. She has long brown hair and a friendly smile.
“Just browsing,” I reply. “We’ve walked over from 35 South, and we’re having a look around.”
“Ooh, you lucky things,” she says, “the resort is absolutely gorgeous.” She holds out a hand. “I’m Victoria. Everyone calls me Vix.”
I shake her hand. “Luke. Yeah, it’s a great place.”
She withdraws her hand and knocks over a stack of bookmarks. “Oops.” She restacks them with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m so clumsy.”
“Mummy’s always knocking everything over,” a little girl says from where she’s sitting on a beanbag to one side.
“Thanks, Millie,” Vix says with amusement.
I chuckle. “It’s an interesting building.”
“Mm, it’s had many incarnations,” she says. “It was a wool brokers, a post office, and a wartime recruiting office at one point.”
“Do you own it?”
“No, no. I just work here a few days a week. John Sullivan owns it. He’s almost as old as the building.” She gives a mischievous smile as I grin. “I’m teasing,” she says, “he’s a lovely guy. He started the bookshop back in the 1960s. The shop that time forgot!”
I chuckle. “It is a bit… old-fashioned, I suppose, but I guess tourists like that.”
“Yeah. So does Millie.” She throws a smile to the little girl. “It’s her favorite place,” she says. “She’s supposed to be at kindie, but she has a cold, so I said she could come in with me today.”
On cue, Millie sneezes. “Bless you,” I say.
“Thank you.” Millie snuffles into a tissue.
I walk over and drop to my haunches beside her. She’s about four or five, with light-brown hair and big soulful brown eyes, like her mum. Her nose is red and her eyes are watering, so clearly the cold is real. “What are you reading?”
“It’s called Fairy House,” she says. “You have to make choices, and you turn to different pages.”
“Like a choose your own adventure?”
“Yes!” She brightens as she realizes I know what she means. “I’ve read it lots and it has seven endings and I’ve read them all.”
“Wow, you must be an amazing reader!”
“I’ve read all the books in the series,” she announces proudly.
“Millie loves reading,” Vix says. “And anyone who loves books.” She gives a wistful smile.
I push up to my feet as Aurelia comes back over with a book tucked under her arm. “Did you find something?”
Aurelia turns it around to show Millie and Vix. “Fairy tales for grown ups,” she says with a laugh. It’s another dragon romantasy.
“Oh, I ordered that,” Vix announces as she rings it up on the register. “We have a book club here in town, and romance is our favorite genre.”
“Can I read it, Mummy?” Millie asks.
“No…” Vix and Aurelia both say with feeling, and they both laugh.
“Like that, is it?” I say, amused.
“Let’s just say it’s not suitable for young eyes,” Vix states.
“Lots of kissing,” Aurelia says to Millie with a wink. She giggles, and I grin.
She pays for the book. “Fancy a coffee in the café?”
“Definitely. Those cinnamon scrolls smell amazing.”
We say goodbye to Vix and Millie, head into The Lantern Café, and order ourselves a scroll and a latte each. We sit by the window, looking out over the busy street. In the distance, the ocean glitters a bright blue in the sunshine.