Page 49 of Kiwi Gold
“What?” She blinked those lost-soul eyes at me.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Sat on the wall outside the house,” she said. “And cried. That was the day I knew for sure that she was dying. And that my dad was never going to be the same.”
22
BLAME IT ON THE BLACK CHOOK
Laila
My head was not swimming. Seriously, it wasn’t. At least, not from alcohol, because I’d had less than a glass, right? I was almost sure that was right. Lachlan was looking at me, though, his hand resting on the stem of the latest of those glasses, and I may have got a little breathless from the look of that hand, the warmth in his eyes. Not to mention the way he’d carried me, pulled up close against him, and how gently he’d put me down.
The next course came just then, looking like a present. A thin packet of puff pastry, its top twisted like a fluted bag. When I cut into it, the delicate, thin-cut, pink slices of beef spilled out.
“For this one,” Lachlan told me, “you can drink your Black Chook. And tell me more about your mum and dad, if you like.”
“You should share mine,” I said. “That way, I may not do anything inappropriate. Or share any more. This is meant to be dating school. Why didn’t you warn me off all that confiding? About mymumdying? I may never have been on an adult date, but I’m pretty sure that’s not on the list. If I drink all of this, I’ll probably be telling you how Kegan never helped with the washing-up, and how he missed the girls’ birth because he was waiting out a storm, andIdon’t even want to think about that. Anyway, it’s over, and it’s easier to …” I stopped.
“What?” he said. “Easier to what?”
I shouldn’t say this. I did anyway. “Easier now that everybody doesn’t love him anymore. And that I don’t have to defend him to my dad so much.” It came out in a rush, and when it had, I got a bit lightheaded. “And it’s harder, of course,” I added. “On the girls. Which is why they’re enrolled in school under ‘Drake.’ So we can put off the reckoning. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.”
He said, “Tell me what you like. If you tell me about him, though, I’m going to think even less of him, fair warning. I can pretty much guarantee it. Tell me more about your parents instead. That’ll make me like your dad better, possibly, which could be good in the circumstances. It’s what I told you, though. Your choice.”
“Then I choose,” I said with deliberation, “to share with you. My wine. And maybe more. I’m just going to …” I gestured with the wine glass.
His eyes sharpened on mine. He was so relaxed, and yet, underneath, there was something tougher. Something harder, like those canine teeth of his. “You’re just going to what?” he asked.
I handed him my flute, in which the bubbles were rising like rose gold. He took a sip, and I said, “I’m going to say it. This date seems a bit romantic to me. Or do I just not know how to judge?”
He choked a tiny bit, handed back the glass, and said, “Well, yeh. It seems a bit romantic to me, too. That was the point, I thought.”
“Oh.” I considered that. “Even if it’s not ...” I had to take my own sip of wine, then, and I lost the plot a bit. The bubbles tingled against my mouth, and the flavor hit me like sweet cherries, warm and ripe and straight off the tree.
“Even if it’s not …” Lachlan said.
“Real,” I said. “Which seems to mean—leading to sex. I keep hearing different numbers, but there’s always a number. That you get three dates, or five, but after that? You have sex, or it’s over.”
“No,” he said. “You get as many as you both want. As many as you both need.”
“Right,” I said. “Color me skeptical. Is there really a ‘both’ here?”
He hesitated, and I thought,I’m ruining this.It didn’t feel like I was, though. I was asking. That was the point of dating school. Asking, and getting honest answers from the kind of man I might want someday.
He said, “Some people want the same thing every time. For every … encounter. Others don’t.”
“Explain,” I said, and took a bite of meltingly tender beef and butter-rich pastry that fell apart into flaky layers the moment it hit your mouth. I didn’t know how they’d cooked this, but it was magical. I followed it up with another sip of bubbles and just about purred, then handed the glass over.
He said, “Some people are always looking for a real relationship. A romance. Even if they don’t get it.”
“Women, you mean.”
“Not only women. You could be surprised. When men are young, they may not be so interested in the romance, and women may not be, either. Nothing wrong with having sex for entertainment. For fun. Who are you hurting, and what’s wrong with fun? When a man isn’t in his twenties anymore, though? Sometimes, maybe he just wants that fun time. Other times, he may want to slow down himself and take his time. Scenic route, eh.”
“Scenic route,” I echoed. His eyes were too intense, and my breasts were tingling as if he was there. Taking the scenic route, and enjoying it. I shuddered, he saw it, and the rush of heat suffused me.
“Yeh,” he said. “Not much sweetness in a fella’s life, maybe. Maybe he wants to be so glad to be here, doing this, that first time. Hardly able to believe that he got her. To have her steal his breath, and maybe even his heart. To wake up that next morning and feel her leg against his and her hair under his hand, and feel like he just won the prize, wondering how he got so lucky. And you don’t get that unless it matters. Unless it’s love, or something close.”
