Page 61 of Just Say (Hell) No
“Nah,” Nyree said. “Thanks. All right?”
Ella smiled. “Nyree. Do you evenseeme?”
“Oh.” Nyree blinked. “Right. Looking. Yes. Now I do.”
Ella dumped her eggs onto a plate and started buttering toast. “No worries. Go back to work. I’m all good.”
Nyree walked back upstairs thinking about the floor. If she painted in a carpet, an Oriental one, all crimson and gold… Then she walked into her orange room, made a pretense of straightening the blankets and pillows on her mattress, looked at her painting again, and set her mug down on the coffee table.
And went back to work.
Marko hadn’t meant for his lift home to be Tom Koru-Mansworth, but that was what he got. On the upside, it meant that neither of them had to wait through the baby- and partner-kissing in the International Arrivals hall before they left.
He’d told Nyree not to come, and she hadn’t. Which was fine. He had a lift, and anyway, partners and babies were for after rugby. That had always been the plan. Focus was everything. Distraction put you on the bench.
It had been hot in Brisbane, rainy in Sydney. In Auckland, the white clouds were being pushed across the blue sky by a fresh wind, and when the car climbed the crest of St. Heliers Bay Road and headed down the other side, the sailboats were out in force in the harbour. Moving in a stately queue that looked serene from a distance, but masked the frenetic activity of a regatta in progress. The same way the best of the best played footy. Like ducks. Calm and controlled on the surface, and paddling like mad underneath.
Tom, who’d been as silent as Marko on the drive, said, “Better than Aussie, eh. Not Northland, but not bad.”
Marko said, “Yeh,” and that was all, and Tom shut up. But when he pulled into Marko’s driveway and Marko had grabbed his duffel from the back seat, he didn’t drive off again. Maybe because Ella was coming down the stone stairs from the front door.
“Bugger me,” Tom said under his breath, and Marko had to agree. And by the time Ella had made it to the bottom of the steps, Tom was out of the car.
“Hi,” she said, shoving her blonde hair over her shoulder and smiling. Nervously, maybe. Raspberry-pink top clinging to a firm, full swell of belly, short gray knit skirt, and long, tanned limbs. Not looking quite so young anymore. “Oh—well done last night. Awesome try, Tom.”
“Not my try,” he said.
“No,” she said, “you were just the one who sidestepped and made that linebreak, then offloaded in the tackle so the other fella could get in. Hardly anything at all.”
“Aw, well,” he said, in that way a man did when he was thrilled she’d noticed but was trying to hide it, “that’s rugby, eh. And maybe coming off the bench to replace Koti. Got to lift a bit for that. Big boots to fill and all.”
They looked at each other, then Ella looked down and Tom didn’t, and Marko thought,You have to be joking.
At last, Tom said, “New school going all right, then? You’re looking fit.”
Ella poked a rueful forefinger into her belly, whichcouldn’thave grown that much in two weeks. Except that it had. “Looking huge, you mean. Twins, did Marko tell you?”
“Really?” Tom said. “Awesome. Nah, he didn’t say.” Which was because it had been nobody else’s business. Obviously.
“Yeh,” she said. “Identical, which is cool. They couldn’t tell yet if they’re girls or boys, though. Not that it matters, I guess, since they’re not exactly mine. I mean, I’m trying to have them not be. I’m trying to make it like I’m just… carrying them. Carefully, you know. For somebody else.”
She fell silent again, and Marko thought,I need to talk to her about that.And wished he knew how to approach it. And after he’d approached it, what the hell he was supposed to say. For now, he said, “Come inside and have a cup of tea if you like, Kors.” Otherwise, they could be standing out here forever. What was he meant to do here? And where was Nyree? He wasn’t going to think about that text. He’d sent it. His choice. His consequences.
“I was on my way to New World,” Ella said, lifting a couple empty carrier bags. “Catching the bus, eh.”
“I can give you a lift,” Tom said. “We could go for ice cream after. Have you been to Mövenpick in Mission Bay?”
“Seriously?” A smile bloomed on her pretty face. Herverypretty face, at this moment. Dark eyes, smooth skin, high cheekbones, and a glow to her as if she were lit from within. “That’s, like, themostthing I want. Strawberry and chocolate. D’you know if they have strawberry?”
“Dunno,” Tom said. “But you can’t mix those, surely. You have to mix chocolate with caramel or something. Espresso. Vanilla. Like that.”
“Fruit totally goes with chocolate,” Ella said. “Like on cooking shows, how they put raspberries on chocolate torte, or cherry filling. I know, because I’ve been watching them. I’m hungry even when I’meating.”
“It doesn’t go,” Tom said. “Not at all. That’s horrible. But you can have it anyway. I just won’t look.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’m going to get three scoops, though. Maybe peach as well. Chocolate and peach.” Tom made a pained noise, and she laughed, looking like the most alive thing there ever was. Looking… ripe.
Wait,Marko thought.Wait just a bloody minute.He said, “Give us a sec, Ella,” and asked Kors, “Can I have a word, mate?”
