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“Haha. How is the gorgeous fella?”
“Well, he’s just thrown up about six liters of apple sauce, which is a bit odd considering I only fed him, like, a cupful, but such is the wonder of science. That’s Eddie, by the way, not Jackson. Although he is a gorgeous fella too. What can I do you for?” There’s the sound of the back door opening and closing—she’s going out onto the deck, probably to put Eddie on the playmat in the shade while she sits in her favorite beanbag and dozes.
I smile. My cousin, Kennedy, is two years younger than me and one of my favorite people in the whole world. We spent a lot of time together growing up, and I have no hesitation at all in requesting her help now.
“I’d like to ask you something,” I say.
“Sure, go ahead.”
“It’s… delicate.”
“Have you got syphilis again? Do you need Jackson to write you a prescription for antibiotics?”
“Jesus, I hope nobody’s tapping the phone. I’m going to tell you something, and I need you not to tell anyone else.”
“Not even Jackson?”
“Well, yeah, I guess you can tell him, but mainly not Mum and Dad. I’m going to tell them at the weekend.”
“Ooh, sounds mysterious. Go on. I’m on tenterhooks.”
“You’re all right to talk? It’s going to take a few minutes.”
“Yeah, Eddie’s dozed off, and I don’t have to be anywhere for a couple of hours. You’re saving me from the laundry.”
I look up at the ceiling, hoping I’m making the right decision. “Okay. Ah… I kinda knocked a girl up.”
There’s a moment of silence. Then a very amused Kennedy says, “Holy fucking shit.”
“Yeah. And that’s not the worst of it.”
“It gets worse?”
“She’s having twins.”
She starts laughing.
“I don’t know why everyone finds that so funny,” I grumble. “Because it’s really not.”
“No, I’m sure it doesn’t feel it. Aw, Saxon. Twins!”
“Identical boys,” I add.
“Friends for Eddie! Who’s the lucky mum?”
I sigh. “Her name’s Catie O’Clery. She’s twenty-four, and I met her in Auckland four months ago in a bar. We had a one-night stand, and then she disappeared from my hotel room. I didn’t see her again until yesterday, when she turned up at my office.”
“She came looking for you?”
“No. She didn’t know I owned the company. She fainted when she saw me.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I didn’t think women did that in real life.” I run my hand through my hair. “That’s not all.”
I tell her the rest of it. That Catie comes from a poor background, and she’s had no support, emotionally or financially, probably for years. That she moved to Wellington presumably to get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, and that she has no family or friends here. That she’s not even had enough money for food, and is under-nourished as a result. And that she’s frightened, and I’m pretty sure she’s hanging onto her sanity by her fingernails.
“Oh my God,” Kennedy says when I stop speaking. “That poor girl.”
