Page 52 of The Virgin Playboy

“Well…that went well,” Wilhelmina dismissed.

“Jacqueline, right?” as I met Mārama 's response with an “Mmmhmm.”

“Why don't we let Graham spend time with his father, and we could have a little time to get to know each other. We were told you worked in broadcasting?”

“Something like that. I was a news anchor for ten years, and now I write. Sounds adventurous, but it's more work than it sounds.”

We walked and talked, as Mārama showed me to the room we'd be staying, and then offered to take me coconut harvesting on some trees not far from their property.

Arguably, this was where the city girl in me came in, because I had to watch three women and girls—all younger than me, by the way—expertly bear hug the tree, using their recruited hooks to knock down a few with ease.

“Oh, give Jacqueline a really good one. You've never had coconut water until you've had it fresh,” Kylie chimed.

Payton cut me down a young one, as her sister gave me tips for the safest way to open one. Arguably, anything back home I'd ever eaten with coconut consisted of curry. “Are you really a nevermo? Payton asked, as her mother and older sister gave her a look.

“It's rude to ask things like that,” Mārama dismissed.

"It's true. I've never been LDS, but I respect that he was. I think it's still a big part of him. He might not be practicing, but it’s shaped his good heart and decision making. Graham's a really good guy,” I admitted, talking him up.

“Gotta wonder what version of him you're getting,” Wilhelmina joked. “Dude’s got an iPhone now. He's bringing girlfriends home. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling us you got eloped in secret.”

Everything came back to marriage with them. Graham and I only recently evolved from hookups to a relationship. To hear they expected marriage so soon from him put a lot of pressure us to just enjoy where we were.

“I didn't realize I got another Graham,” I said, hoping I was hiding my discomfort well.

“Nothing has been able to get Graham to come home. It's why we didn't bother sharing his father's health isn’t the best. We didn't think he would come either way,” Mārama admitted.

“Well, it's clear he loves you all by the way he talks about you. I could see how homesick he was, so I got him tickets to come here. I didn't think of how big of a deal it was for him to take me up on my offer.”

“Graham doesn't really take things lightly,” Wilhelmina admitted, piling on the pressure.

“He’s special. Dangerously empathetic. Devoted to his own detriment. If he brought you here, it's not as small of a gesture as maybe you intended it,” his mother added.

“Well, I love your son. Small gesture, big gesture. I just wanted to be here with him, since he's always there for me,” I tried downplaying it.

“You're the only one of his exes not originally from Auckland that we've actually met. I don't know what that means to you, but please be kind and conscious of my son's heart.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Graham

Even though I'd expected an awkward welcome, nothing could have prepared me for spending time with my dad. After storming into the house, it had caught me off guard to find my dad in a room full of nurses, that he politely shooed away to have time alone with me.

He’d maintained most of the things I remembered about him. Pale white hair. Sharp angular bone structure—which I arguably, think I inherited more than my sisters. Last but not least, kind close-set eyes that seemed at peace. Everything else hadn't matched the image of him I’d had in my head.

Up close, I couldn't with confidence say he didn't look sick. The bags under his eyes made him look like he hadn't slept in days, and while I had always known my mom's genetics might result in outgrowing him, I had never seen him so thin.

Awkward pleasantries passed between us as I pulled up a chair to join him at his bedside, and because I couldn't say no, I had spent the past half hour singing to him his favorite Māori lullabies he had learned from my mother's side of the family, just to be able to sing them to us.

“Sorry, my voice is a little tired,” I said, gently placing the ukulele not far from his nightstand, as I joined him back by the bed.

“Tamā roa,” he acknowledged, using the Māori word for firstborn son. “I'm glad that you're here. It is comforting knowing I get to see you finally.”

“Dad, what are you talking about? Whatever this is, you'll pull through,” I spoke with confidence, despite being terrified out of my mind.

“Graham?”

“Yes, Dad?”