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“Aw.” Gaby grabs me on the way past and kisses my cheek. “Sorry, sweetie. That was a bit mean.”
“Just remember it’s your hen night tomorrow,” I warn her. “I’m totally making you wear a veil the whole evening.”
“Don’t worry,” Damon says, “I know I’m irresistible.” I poke my tongue out at him, and he smiles. “You want a whisky as well?” he asks me.
“No, thank you. I’m not a fan.”
“Can I get you something else, then?”
“I brought some champagne,” Gaby says, placing a bottle on the counter.
I nod. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll open it.” He proceeds to take the wrapping and metal cage off the top. As I take the dish of mashed potatoes into the dining room, I hear the cork pop.
Gradually everyone brings out the glasses and food, and within ten minutes we’re all seated and tucking into our dinner.
The table seats eight, and I end up next to the empty seat at one end, while Damon sits next to my father at the other end. I suppose it’s for the best, although I’m disappointed. It would have been nice to sit next to him, brushing elbows from time to time.
The steak pie is wonderful, as always, and the conversation flows with the champagne. The guys are on good form. They talk for a while about what’s going on at Kia Kaha, and I eat my dinner while I listen to Damon’s deep voice as he explains how he’s helping to integrate the gaming software with THOR’s exoskeleton.
The talk moves on to rugby and cricket, but I find my gaze drifting away, out through the sliding glass doors to the garden. The sun hasn’t quite set yet, but dusk is setting in, and the shadows are lengthening.
For some reason I think of my mother, and I wonder what she’s doing right now. Eating on her own in her room? As far as I know, she doesn’t have any friends in the city. I feel a tad guilty for not getting back to her. Maybe I’ll text her later, after dinner.
As if on cue, my phone buzzes in my jeans’ pocket. I take it out and rest it on my thigh, assuming it’s her. To my surprise, though, it’s a message from Damon.
Penny for them?
I look across at him in surprise. He’s not looking at me—he’s listening to my father talking about the upcoming All Blacks’ game, but he must have seen me staring out of the window.
Feeling mischievous, I text back a few emojis.
Me:
I press send and lift my gaze. I watch him glance down, and I stifle a laugh as his lips curve up.
He tries to wipe the smile away and texts back an emoji:
Me:Moi? I’m a
Him:A good girl? Hmm. I think you need a
Me:More like
I watch his brow furrow. He looks up as Alex asks him a question and answers him, then drops his gaze back to where his phone is resting in his lap.
Him:
Me:Tossing the salad
He laughs out loud, and everyone looks over.
“Sorry,” he says, slotting his phone back into his trouser pocket. He very carefully doesn’t look at me. I bite my lip so I don’t smile.
“Who are you texting?” Gaby asks curiously.
“No one.”
