“It sounds made up.”
“It’s not. It’s Maori.”
She’s silent for a moment. “Oh. Are you Maori?”
I nod. My skin gets pretty dark in the sun, and it’s the end of summer now so I’m pretty brown, but perhaps it isn’t obvious to her.
“Yeah. Maori on my mother’s side.”
“So what does Tai mean?”
“It means ‘Great Extreme’.”
She rubs her lips together as if she’s trying not to laugh.
“What?” I ask testily.
“Great Extreme what? Great Extreme Grump?”
My eyes roll back. “Whatever you want to call me, it makes zero difference to me. Anyway, you’re named after a weed.”
“I don’t know what you call them here, but at home a daisy is a flower. A pretty one.” She’s so indignant, I’m almost smiling.
“Yeah, they’re weeds.”
She practically jumps in her seat. “Daisies aren’t weeds! They’re flowers!”
“They’re weeds and I mow them down every spring.” I give her a smirk. “Pretty fitting name if you ask me.”
The glare returns to her eyes. “Forget grump, you’re a full-on dick.”
I shrug. “As I said, whatever you want to call me makes no difference to me.”
And at that, she seems to shut up.
I glance down at the dashboard clock and sigh internally at how slow this has been going. It’s been a hell of a day so far.
I woke up early having spent the night on one of the boats I had to sail from the Bay of Islands last week, down to Auckland Harbor for a client. I met the client, handed off the boat, and then started up on the motorway back up to Russell.
That’s when Lacey called me in hysterics, saying her sister Daisy had arrived a day early and she hadn’t arranged any pickup for her. I guess tomorrow Daisy was supposed to arrive at the same time as another guest was passing through and they were going to give her a ride or something. At any rate, I thought it was odd that Daisy was arriving on the day of the wedding rehearsal, as if she was trying to cut the trip as short as possible. But from the way that Lacey sometimes refers to Daisy as being flakey and pampered and distant, I figured it was normal.
Naturally, Lacey was busy doing last minute wedding things with her parents and Richard, so I was her only hope. It was this, or stick Daisy on a bus, which would have been the preferable option for me, and probably for Daisy as well. But I like Lacey a lot, even though she can be hard on you, and so I did her a favor.
I suppose it’s not the worst thing in the world, at least it isn’t now since Daisy has finally grown quiet and I’ve had time to think.
That is until we drive through the town of Opua where I have my boats. As we head over the bridge that crosses the bay, I crane my neck to try and see the marina.
“What are you looking at?” she asks.
“Boats.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many,” she says, seeming to admire them dotted on the emerald green water, the sun glinting off the masts. Then she glances at my shirt. “I’m going to guess you have something to do with them?”
I nod. “I own a chartering company. Deep Blue. Have twelve yachts in total, based out of here and Auckland.”
“Wow,” she says. “Impressive.” And she actually sounds impressed for once. “I guess you do look like you’d be pretty good with your hands.”
Now she’s looking at my hands, my knuckles all scarred up from my boxing days.
“Ever been sailing?” I ask her against my better judgement.
“Ha,” she says. “Yes, once. With an ex. I was rather useless, I have to admit. I think I like the whole drinking cocktails at the dock type of sailing.”
“Uh huh. And this ex, was it the one that was supposed to be in the back of the truck?”
She gives me one of her sweet smiles again and it nearly knocks the wind out of me. I force myself to focus on the road. “I thought I was going to be the one in the back! Have you changed your mind about me?”
Never.
But she looks out the window, her shoulders sinking. “No,” she says wearily. “That was some other ex. My latest ex was Chris.”
I should drop it. Take the opportunity for more blessed silence. But if she got to poke and prod at me, I get to poke and prod at her.
“So what happened?”
“That’s very direct.”
“I’m a direct guy. So what happened? Why isn’t he here? Did you talk him to death?”
“You know what, I only talk like this when I’m nervous, it’s not all the time.”
I grin at her. “So I make you nervous?”
“No,” she says hesitantly and then shields her eyes. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you smile. Has anyone ever told you that your teeth are blinding?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you say has anyone ever told you a lot?”
She exhales slowly through her lips. “Chris told me that. He told me lots of things, before I came home one day to make lunch and caught him having sex with an ex-coworker.”
Fuck.
I let out a low whistle. “That is rough.”
“Yeah. And, like, a few weeks before that I was let go of my job of ten years.”
“Shit.”
“Mmmhmmm.” She starts tapping her fingers along her thighs.
“What did you do? I mean, what was your role?”
Another sigh. “I was the head of marketing for an athleisure company. You know, clothes for yoga, products for wellness, that sort of thing.”
I shudder inside at the word “wellness,” one of my pet peeves. Figures.
“And so what did you do?” I repeat. “Meaning, why were you fired?”
“I wasn’t fired,” she snaps at me, her face starting to flush. “I was laid off.”
“Okay, take it easy, Gingersnap.”
“Gingersnap?”
I shrug. It’s fitting and I’ll use it again. “So company layoffs. That’s got to suck.”
“What I probably should have done is just not come here at all. Stayed at home and focused on getting another job, focused on getting over Chris.”
“You would have done that to your sister? Skipped out on her wedding?”
Her shoulders lift. “I don’t know. I don’t know if Lacey would care, to be honest. I haven’t seen her in five years, we don’t talk all that often anymore. Not like we ever did.”
She catches me looking at her and puts a big smile on her face, a practiced, easy smile, a smile that most people wouldn’t notice is fake.
But I do.
“Anyway, I’m here.” She sits up straighter, a forced chipper tone to her voice. “And I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this trip. Maybe all this shit that happened to me is a chance to start over, really find myself. You know, maybe I’ll take the advice that my old job was spewing all those years. Go on a spiritual journey and all that horseshit.”
I laugh. “Sounds like you’re heading in the right direction.”
She nods, returning the smile.
But I don’t think she believes it.
Four
Daisy
This has been, no doubt, the longest drive of my life.
I mean, four hours is pretty long no matter how you spin it, but four hours stuck in a cramped space with the grumpiest guy alive with his fresh ocean scent and big hands and growly voice, a guy that couldn’t hide his disdain for me even if he tried (and he wasn’t trying), pushed my sanity to the limit.
Not to mention a lot of the road was winding and my nausea reared its ugly head once again. Tai was probably grateful that I shut up for once, but the truth was I was trying to keep from being sick. The last thing I needed was to further embarrass myself. Can you imagine if I hurled all over his vintage truck? He’d probably have kicked me out and made me hitchhike without even a second glance.
Truth be told, I was almost tempted to do it. Just to piss him off.
Finally, we reach the cute town of Russell, with its quaint shops and people milling along the sparkling harbor with dripping ice cream cones in their hands. But we keep going and the road twists and turns again though forest until it opens on a narrow peninsula full of houses. We pull into a driveway and park.
I can’t get out of the truck fast enough, I practically fall out of it. Wedding party be damned, I hope that was the last and only time I’ll be stuck in such close proximity with Tai.
I take a moment and lean against the passenger door, immediately taking in a deep, calming breath. We’re at the end of a long gravel driveway, rolling green hills on either side that slip down to a wide, pale beach and the turquoise of the water beyond. If I had to describe New Zealand in one word so far it would be saturated. Every color, from the green of the land to the blue of the sky is vibrant and electric, almost like it’s been digitally altered.
And the air here! It’s so fresh that I think it’s curing my hangover.
I turn my attention to the big white house in front of us, and the bunch of cars parked on the grass around it. Tai gets out, reaches into the bed of the truck and pulls out the heavy suitcases effortlessly. His tanned muscles pop and flex and I have to look away before he realizes I’m ogling him.
“Where are we?” I ask, peering around the neighborhood of what looks like small summer houses. “I thought we were going to a hotel.”
“This is my parent’s house,” Tai says begrudgingly as he hauls my luggage through the gravel to the paved stone path to the front door.
“Your parent’s house?” I run after him. “Is this where you grew up? It’s gorgeous.”
And it truly is. The house is two-stories with a porch, boxes of flowers beneath each window. It reminds me of my own parents’ house in Oregon, except the white paint on this one is clean and shiny, and I think my parents painted their house once in in the ‘90s and left it to the elements ever since. My mom insists that it’s shabby chic, but I know that they’re just too busy with the farm to pay attention to anything else, like the house, or their children, for example.
Speaking of, while I’m gawking at the cuteness of Tai’s parent’s house, the front door opens and my parents step out onto the porch, my father leading the way.
“Well, well, well,” my dad bellows as he comes down the path toward us. “If it isn’t the early bird.” He gives Tai a nod. “Thank you for bringing her here. Wouldn’t have blamed you if you left her at the airport. I know what it’s like to have been Driving Miss Daisy.”
“Thanks dad,” I say with a roll of my eyes as Tai gives my father a disapproving grunt and disappears inside.
I haven’t seen my parents since Easter last year. My parents have always been religious, so skipping Easter with them at the local community church is akin to disowning them, though this winter I spent Christmas with Chris, which, in hindsight, was the wrong move.
My dad looks good. Relaxed for once. He’s always had a tan because he works outside so much, but the dark circles under his eyes have disappeared and his face looks rounder, happier.
“You look great,” I tell him as he pulls me into a hug. He smells familiar and comforting, and I hadn’t really realized how badly I needed affection from someone I love. “New Zealand looks good on you.”
“It’s the wine that’s agreeing with him,” my mother says from behind him, while Tai takes the suitcases into the house.
My mother looks the same as always, just as short as I am, but delicate-boned, like a bird, instead of athletic and curvy. She’s wearing khaki shorts and a plaid shirt, the same damn thing she wears at home all year long, though here she has Reef sandals velcroed to her feet instead of rainboots.
We couldn’t be more different. I don’t think she’s ever worn makeup, her hair is a long and frizzy grey, always held back in a ponytail. She has an ever-present ball cap on her head and glasses. She must look at me sometimes and wonder where the hell I came from.
She’s giving me that look right now, as she eyes me up and down. She’s not the type of mom to give some snotty or passive aggressive remark, instead she keeps things to herself and looks at me as if I’m an alien.
Right now I feel like one. It’s weird to see my parents here, in a foreign land, not surrounded by mounds of work and apples.
I go to hug my mom, and she pats me lightly on the shoulder. She’s never been very good with hugs or physical affection, which has probably rubbed off on me in some way. Still, I’ll take what I can get.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, then pulls back. “Are you okay? Jet-lagged? Did you sleep on the plane?”
“Kind of,” I tell her. “I’m just tired from the drive. And a bit confused as to why we’re all here. I thought I was staying at a hotel.”
“That was the original plan,” my dad says. “But everybody has been so easy-going, they decided that since the wedding is being held on the beach out back, might just be easier for everyone to stay here.”
“Easy going?” I repeat. “I’m guessing you’re not talking about Lacey.”
“My ears are burning,” Lacey’s quiet voice sounds from behind my mom and we turn to see her stepping out of the house.
Wow. It’s weird to see her after so long, even though I see her on social media all the time.
Lacey is five inches taller than me, getting the “height” from dad, though she got the skinny physique from my mother. Her style hasn’t changed much either, sensible sandals, jeans even though it’s fairly hot out, a black blouse that looks a little too stuffy on her. Her bright blonde hair is in a long bob and to my surprise she’s wearing magenta lip gloss, perhaps her attempt at dressing up. She’s always worn glasses but these new ones are a little more cat-eyed, like a sexy secretary.
Lacey is beautiful. She would fit every guy’s fantasy of a blonde bombshell, except her resting bitch face is some pretty powerful stuff and I was witness to a lot of guys in high school being scared of her. They’d confide in me that they thought she was hot but too smart for them, too intimidating, too serious. Add in the fact that my parents were super strict with her, and she grew up never really knowing how pretty she was.
That, or she didn’t care. All she cared about was school.
It’s worked out well for her.
“Hey,” I say to her brightly. “I made it!”
She scurries over to me—that’s Lacey’s thing, always spry, never has time to lose—and brings me into a quick hug. She smells like Pantene Pro-V, and I’m immediately transported back in time to when I used to share a bathroom with her. Feels like another life.
“You made it,” she says. Her voice is still quiet, controlled, but there’s a hint of accent now. “I was worried, but now I can see I had no reason to. You always land on your feet, don’t you Daisy? Like a cat.”
I give her a stiff smile. There is a hint of resentment in her words. I glance at my parents to see if they’ve noticed, but they both look happy (or maybe just in shock) to have us here all together.
“So, I met Tai,” I tell her, skirting over her tone. “Did you purposefully send me the grumpiest man in New Zealand?”
Her lips pinch together and I notice her lip gloss is feathering a little. She should have worn lipliner. Beginners makeup 101.
“It was Tai or the bus.”
“I would have rather taken the bus,” I tell her.
She folds her arms, the ring on her finger flashing. “Well had you told me the right date, I would have arranged for someone more suitable to pick you up.”
“Holy crap, is that your engagement ring?” I ask, reaching down and picking up her hand.
She stiffens. The ring is much bigger and more sparkly in person.
“Richard did well,” I tell her. She blushes and looks away, taking her hand out of mine.
“He’s been great,” my father says. “When Lacey has her little meltdowns, Richard is there to rein her in.”
“I don’t have meltdowns,” Lacey snaps, an
d my father and I chuckle in unison, because Lacey always has to be in control, and if she’s not, a meltdown ensues. “Weddings are stressful for anyone. I would have rather eloped.”
“Don’t say that,” my mother scolds her. “This was a great excuse for all of us to get together.”
“Yeah, because you all need an excuse to come visit me, not because you want to,” Lacey says.
“Hey, this is a two-way street, you haven’t come to visit us,” I tell her. “It’s been five years and you could have come back to the States at any time.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a voice says cutting through what was sure to be an epic argument. “Let’s not start off on the wrong foot here, folks.”
Richard appears behind Lacey.
Dr. Dick Boner.
I have to chew on my lip to keep from laughing.
I’ve obviously seen Richard’s face all over Lacey’s social media, and I even spoke to him on the phone after he proposed to Lacey, but I have to say he looks as dorky in person as he does in photos. I thought perhaps the man just wasn’t photogenic, but that’s not the case.
He’s sort of cute, in like a Jon Cryer kind of way. Someone you’d put in a headlock and ruffle up his hair. He’s got thick glasses and is wearing a polo shirt, tan slacks, and brown loafers, like he took a page from Bill Gates’s style book.
That said, he also strikes me as someone who has money. Like Bill Gates. That ring didn’t come from teaching about plants, that’s for sure.
“So glad you decided to pop by, Daisy,” Richard says to me, extending his hand. His Kiwi accent is very strong and very high-pitched. “I know time zones can be flabbergasting to the novice traveler, but I think you might need to take a refresher in maths.” He starts laughing.
Dear lord, don’t make me hate him. He used the term “maths.”
“I know, I know, silly me,” I say with a forced laugh, smacking the side of my head to indicate that I’m an idiot. “But I’m here now.”
He doesn’t seem like he’s going to drop it. He puts his arm around Lacey and gives her a squeeze. “You made my little lingerie here all worried. I had to remind her that things always seem to work out for you.”
Lovewrecked Page 4
