Page 83 of Under Southern Stars
The car waiting for us is a sleek black Mercedes—nothing too ostentatious, but certainly nicer than your standard airport shuttle. Not exactly billionaire transportation, but definitely a step up from what a paramedic should logically afford. I’d specifically requested something understated from the family’s usual service, but even this feels like pushing my luck.
“Fancy,” Sophia comments, eyebrows slightly raised.
“Just part of the package deal,” I say vaguely, helping the driver load our bags. “Welcome to New Zealand, where the coffee’s strong, the people are friendly, and the sheep outnumber humans.”
“The essential facts,” Sophia deadpans, but she is smiling.
The drive into Auckland is a blur of Madison’s excited observations (“The steering wheel’s on the wrong side!” “Look at those trees!” “Why are all the signs in two languages?”) and my casual explanations of Maori place names and local landmarks. Sophia is quieter, gazing out the window with tired but interested eyes, her hand finding mine on the seat between us.
Our hotel, the QT Auckland, is in the central business district—modern, stylish, but not extravagantly luxurious. I’d booked a spacious suite with a separate bedroom, the kind of accommodation that wouldn’t raise eyebrows given the special occasion but wouldn’t scream ‘family money’ either.
“This is amazing!” Madison exclaims as she explores the room, opening every drawer and testing every switch. “Look, Mom, there’s a little balcony! And the bathroom has those fancy toiletries!”
Sophia gives me a look that is equal parts gratitude and a question I’m not ready to answer. “This is lovely, Jack. Really lovely.”
“Nothing but the best for my girls,” I say lightly, then freeze slightly at my own words.My girls. It had slipped out so naturally.
But Sophia’s smile just widens, and she leans up to kiss me quickly. “Your girls appreciate it.”
After a quick freshen-up, we decided to push through the jet lag and grab an early dinner before crashing. The Viaduct Harbour is just a short walk away, the early evening air crispwith autumn, the harbor lights beginning to twinkle against the dusk.
“Proper Kiwi fish and chips,” I say proudly, tapping my fork against the golden-battered fillet on my plate.
“Wait,” Madison says, “Say that again.”
“Say what again?”
“What are you eating?”
“Fish and chips.”
She grins. “That’s not what you said. You said‘fush and chups.’”
“I did not.”
“Yousodid.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not really a fish person.”
I sigh dramatically, shaking my head. “Americans. Just like the Aussies, no appreciation for the classics.” I flag down our server. “Excuse me, do you have chicken parma on the menu? For the young visitor?”
The server grins. “Course we do. Coming right up.”
“Chicken what?” Madison asks.
“Chicken parmigiana. Aussie pub classic that we’ve adopted. Basically a chicken schnitzel with tomato sauce and cheese on top. You’ll love it, I promise.”
Sophia, meanwhile, has gone straight for the local green-lipped mussels, looking blissful as she dips crusty bread into the garlic butter sauce. “Oh my God,” she moans. “These are incredible.”
“Told you New Zealand food would surprise you,” I say, stealing a mussel from her plate and earning a playful slap on the hand.
The conversation flows easily—first impressions of New Zealand, plans for tomorrow, Madison’s detailed review of every amenity in Business Premier (“They gave me real metal silverware, Mom. And the ice cream had actual chocolate chunks!”) It is…normal. Beautifully, surprisingly normal. Just a man having dinner with his girlfriend and her daughter on vacation.
For a moment, I let myself forget what is coming. Forget that in less than forty-eight hours, I’ll be driving them up to the estate. Forget that the life I’d built with Sophia is balanced on a lie of omission that could collapse with a single phone call from the wrong person.
“You okay?” Sophia’s voice breaks through my thoughts, her hand warm on mine. “You drifted away for a second.”
“Just jet lag,” I lie, squeezing her hand. “And thinking how glad I am you’re both here.”
“Me too,” she says softly.
