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That's in between singing atrociously.
I refuse to join in, despite his repeated requests. As bad as Wilby's voice is, mine's even worse, so no way am I subjecting him to it.
As the sky turns a dusky pink, Wilby glances over at me and smiles big. "Welcome to my home!"
I look around. This is his home. "Where?"
He turns left near a massive gum tree, which brings us onto a narrow dirt track. There's still nothing but flat earth and deep red dirt in every direction around us.
"We're on my family's property." Wilby smiles proudly.
I connect the dots with what he told me about his ex before, and it occurs to me that I'm the first person he's ever brought home. That's kind of a huge deal.
"Still got another twenty k's until we get to the house, though."
"Right." I do the math in my head. Twenty kilometers is about…twelve and a half miles. "This is one long driveway."
He laughs. "Sure fucking is."
By the time we pull up in front of a large, white wood-paneled house with a wraparound porch, my nerves have kicked in. I'm not at pre-flight level, but I'm getting there.
"Hey, don't be nervous," Wilby says, cutting the engine and turning sideways so he's facing me. "Gran's gonna love you. So are Bridge and Kolby. It's really only me you have to worry about."
I laugh. And just like that, my nerves dissipate.
As soon as we're out of the truck, I spot an elderly lady standing on the front porch, wearing an apron with a washcloth draped over her shoulder.
"Is that your grandma?" I ask Wilby as we start toward the house.
"Nah. It's my sister. Aussie sun, mate. Ruins ya skin."
"Shut up." I give him a little slap across his upper arm. "Oops. Probably shouldn't have done that in front of your grandmother."
"Please. You reckon she hasn't done worse? This might come as a huge shock, but I was kind of a handful as a kid."
"Was?"
He laughs. I lean in closer, whispering into his ear. "You were also quite a handful on the drive over here."
"Stop being so naughty."
"Then stop smiling so much."
By the time we reach the house, our hands have somehow clasped together, and we're giggling like kids. Wilby's grandma's eyes travel down to our joined hands, and she smiles.
"Hey, Gran!"
Wilby lets go of me and leaps up the three steps in one go to embrace his grandmother. I climb onto the second step and wait. Even from here, I'm taller than she is. She's got her silver hair pulled into a tight bun. Her face is squarish and tanned, and she's got the same gray eyes Wilby has, the creases around the corners hinting at a kind nature.
"This is Col Langdon," Wilby says when they break apart. "The uptight New Yorker I met in Sydney."
"Wilby!" She gives him a proper thwack across his back before pushing him out of the way. "I would apologise for him, but if I start now, that'll be all you'll hear me sayin'."
I smile. "Nice to meet you, Mrs.—"
Shit. I forget to ask if she's got the same last name as Wilby.
"Mrs., nothing." She flings the washcloth from her shoulder. "Call me Polly."
