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“Are you religious?” I ask.
“My parents go to church, and they told me both Christian and Maori stories while I was growing up. I don’t go to church now, but I suppose I have faith, of a kind.”
“Do you believe in life after death?”
“I don’t know whether we end up as angels sitting on clouds, but I don’t believe a mother who’s just given birth to her baby girl would be anywhere but by her side, do you?” Her eyes are wide and clear.
My throat tightens, and I struggle to swallow my mouthful of coffee. “No, I don’t.”
“Are you religious?” she asks.
“Not now. Our mother took us to church when we were young, but I stopped going when we came to New Zealand, and I stopped believing completely when she died. Maddie still went, sometimes.”
She has another mouthful of her roll. “Eat up,” she says, gesturing to mine. “I want to see all that gone.”
I roll my eyes at Leia, but I do as she says, because I kind of like being bossed around.
Chapter Seventeen
Aroha
James looks a damn sight better now. For a moment, when I first found him sprawled on the lawn, I had the horrific thought that he’d died out there in the night. His skin was pale and icy cold, and I couldn’t see his chest moving. But then he’d stirred, and I realized he’d either passed out from all the alcohol, or from exhaustion and grief, or likely a combination of all of those.
Now his skin has returned to its natural light brown, and the pain lines scored into his face have lessened, although his headache is obviously still bad. I wait for him to finish his roll and coffee, then I lift Leia out of her chair, take James’s hand, and lead him back to his room.
“Get in,” I tell him, drawing the duvet back. I try not to think about the last time I was in a bedroom with him, when I fell back onto the bed, and he kissed down my body before he sank his tongue inside me. How it felt to be wanted by this gorgeous guy, even if only for one night. Ahhh… no… don’t go down that road. Don’t torture yourself.
He glances at me, and I wonder whether he’s thinking the same thing, but he doesn’t say anything. I wait for him to protest that I’m watching, but he surprises me by grabbing a handful of his tee at the nape of his neck and tugging it over his head, exposing his muscular torso, then sliding off his track pants, giving me a glimpse of his toned butt in the black boxer-briefs before he slides beneath the duvet. Falling back onto the pillows, he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes again.
Still holding Leia, I go over to the window and pull the curtains, and he sighs. “Thank you.”
I sit on the side of the bed. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He lets his arms fall above his head. Wow, a girl could break a tooth on his biceps. He’s definitely the best-looking guy I’ve ever seen in real life. Usually he’s well-groomed, but right now his hair is ruffled and messy, he looks weary, and his face is etched with grief.
I’d love to lean forward and kiss his frown lines away. I don’t, of course. But I fantasize about it for a few seconds.
He reaches out and picks up Leia’s hand, and his lips curve as her fingers curl around one of his. “She looks content,” he says.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
He lets his arm fall back. “All this. I’m not normally like this. Or, at least, there’s never anyone around to witness it.” His lips twist.
“You should be around people right now,” I tell him. “Grief should be shared.”
“I’ve always found it to be a very private thing.” He studies me, then smiles. “That puzzles you.”
“A bit.”
“Who did you lose?” he asks softly.
“My grandfather, when I was twelve. My whanau flocked around and filled the house. Everyone grieved openly. I wasn’t alone for weeks.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
