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Chapter One
Aroha
“All right,” I say to my best friend, Gaby, “who are you trying to fix me up with this time?”
It’s the twenty-first of December, and I’m on my lunch break, talking on the phone as I walk back through the streets of Christchurch to the beauty salon where I work. Gaby has just invited me to a festive trivia evening at a bar tonight. It sounds great—except I know she has an ulterior motive.
She protests, “Not at all, I swear. It’s just that the trivia teams are in groups of ten, and we need one more to make up the numbers.”
“Yeah, right.” I know her better than that.
We met at high school and became firm friends, despite having vastly different backgrounds. My family is very normal—a Pakeha or white mum, a Maori dad, two younger siblings, and a huge extended family, none of whom has a spare dollar left at the end of the month.
Gaby’s mum is a famous actor, and Gaby is super rich, as is her husband, Tyson. She’s told me it’s his company’s do tonight, so the other people in the team are likely to be the four friends with whom he runs the firm. They’re all wealthy and intimidating, even though she insists they’re perfectly normal.
So which one is she planning to fix me up with? Two of them have partners. “Surely you’re not hoping I’ll get off with Alex?” Her brother is nice enough, but he’s a little laconic for my tastes. I do like a smooth-talking man.
“No,” she says, “he’s invited the girl he’s had his eye on for ages.”
“She’s got a Christmassy name, hasn’t she? Holly? Ivy?”
“Yeah, Mistletoe. He calls her Missie. Anyway, she’s coming.”
“So it’s Henry, then?” I name the other single man. He was married, but he separated from his wife last year. It’s not the first time she’s tried to bring us together. “I’ve already told you, he’s a lovely guy, but he’s not my type.”
“He’s tall, dark, handsome, and loaded,” she says. “What’s not to like?” Her voice turns sly. “Or is it that you’re more interested in someone else…?”
My lips curve up. “No…”
She’s talking about James Rutherford, and the annoying thing is that she’s right, I do like him. I made the mistake of telling her after a few glasses of wine at her hen party. The first time I saw James years ago, I thought he was the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen in real life, and I’ve had a crush on him ever since.
“I don’t blame you,” she says. “He is rather tasty. He’s related to Ernest Rutherford, you know, the father of nuclear physics. Apparently, he’s very generously endowed…”
“Ernest or James?”
She laughs. “James. I don’t know about Ernest.”
“Who told you that?”
“Cassie let it slip,” she says, referring to his current girlfriend. “A few weeks ago, when she got drunk, she said his dick’s so big his pants have a zip code.”
I giggle. “Will she be there tonight?”
“Yeah,” Gaby says. “But that relationship definitely has a ‘best before’ date on it.”
It’s not the first time she’s said it, but I don’t understand why Cassie would ditch a guy who’s gorgeous, wealthy, and has a huge… appendage? And even if she did, a single James would be one of the most eligible bachelors in Christchurch, if not the whole of New Zealand. I don’t know him well, but I know enough to understand he’d never be interested in me.
We’ve met socially a few times through Gaby and Tyson, but we lead very different lives. Before Cassie, he had a string of rich, beautiful girlfriends, the socialite types who wear designer clothes, drive Mercedes or BMWs, and have thousands of followers on Instagram. I’d never be able to compete with my charity shop clothes, my battered old Honda, and my twenty-four Insta followers.
“I don’t need a boyfriend,” I tell her.
“Aw, Aroha, come on. I can’t remember the last time you went on a date. Please come out.”
“You don’t need me,” I tell her. “I’m terrible at quizzes, you know that. My general knowledge is appalling.”
“Oh rubbish, you’re smart as.”
“Gaby, the guys are all geniuses, and you’re a teacher. I pull hairs out of people’s legs for a living.”
