Page 16 of Just for Me
Luke opened the door. Rhys. That was good. He wasn’t going to have to tackle Casey, anyway. Nyree called out behind him, “Whoever it is—you’re not allowed to see.”
Rhys smiled, and Luke stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Rhys said, “How’s she going?”
“Oh, you know,” Luke said. “Says she’ll be done in an hour.”
“Will it be today, you reckon?” Rhys asked, which showed that he understood Nyree’s flawed sense of time.
“Yeh,” Luke said. “Because I don’t see Marko putting off the wedding for this wall. But not in an hour.”
Rhys said, “Casey wants to have an unveiling party tonight, for her bedroom and Isaiah’s. Nyree painted his ceiling.”
“Oh.” Luke wasn’t sure what else to say.
“And she wants to invite everybody,” Rhys said. “You and Kane, for two, and a few more. Zora’s parents, and Hayden, of course. Finn Douglas, too, and his family.”
“Oh,” Luke said again, but he could feel the flush creeping up his neck. Zora’s parents would be Hayden’s parents, too. He’d never met parents. Not in his life experience. But they wouldn’t have to know, right? Not like he and Hayden had to announce anything. Not that there was anything to announce anyway. He’d be Nyree’s brother, that was all.
That was when the second half of Rhys’s announcement hit him. Finn Douglas, currently coaching at the Blues with Rhys. Luke had only played with him on the All Blacks, but he knew one thing for sure. Playing with him, like playing with Rhys, was heaps more comfortable than playing against him. Finn was a South Islander, like Luke himself, born to a farming family, a bit rough around the edges, and as hard a taskmaster in the gym as Luke. Not exactly the type to embrace different forms of sexuality.
And his family. “What family?” he asked Rhys. Stalling, he knew.
“Wife,” Rhys said. “And four kids, with the fifth coming any day. Anyway—this is meant to be an invitation, one you can pass along to Kane as well—and tell Nyree, obviously. I warn you, Zora’s working like mad on Nyree’s wedding flowers, so the kids and I are in charge of this party. Sausage rolls are likely to feature heavily.”
“Oh.” Luke hesitated, and Rhys asked, “What?”
Nothing to do but say it. “I was going out with Hayden tonight. After this.” Luke stared straight ahead and didn’t think. Not about Finn Douglas, especially. Finn had been what Luke himself had aspired to be, back in those early days. A hard man. A disciplined man. A team man.
Astraightman.
Harden up.A mantra that normally never failed, but was getting more difficult all the time. He could make his body do almost anything. His mind, though … his mind didn’t want to go there.
“Ah.” Rhys scratched his nose. “OK if I invite you both anyway? Can you go out after? If not, say so. The kids will want Hayden to be there, but you could leave straightaway, if you like, and avoid the sausage rolls.”
Luke smiled just a bit. “Nah. If it won’t be fraught, with the parents and all.”And Finn,he didn’t say.
“Mate.” Rhys put a hand on Luke’s shoulder, and Luke felt the weight of that hand. That Rhys wasn’t afraid to touch him the way he’d have done before, after a match. “It’s my house,” he told Luke. “Mine and Zora’s. We invite who we like, and if anybody doesn’t like it, they can bugger off.”
Luke had to smile a bit more now. “Even her parents?”
“Especially her parents.” Rhys grinned, a pirate’s smile. “You have no idea. But you’ll find out.”
* * *
He did.
Not right away, not with all the excitement over the rooms. Isaiah’s, first, which was painted like the night sky. The colors glowed nearly purple in some places, and for some reason, Nyree’s friend Victoria, who was dating Luke’s brother Kane, was playing the cello for this, something soaring, poignant, and powerful. Russian, Luke would bet that was. It sounded Russian, like every pleasure came with the promise of pain. Like life was beautiful, and it hurt.
Luke listened to the aching melody, looked at the swirling purple clouds and the dots of silver stars above, and thought of the first time he’d seen the Aurora Australis. On a school trip, that had been. There’d been a boy named Quentin Furman on that trip, and Luke had longed for Quentin, a skinny, brainy, quick-witted kid with a flashing smile, with every hopeless fiber of his fifteen-year-old being.
Quentin would never feature on any rugby squad. He’d never even feature on anysoccersquad, because, he said, sport was boring. He was brilliant at maths, though, and Luke, who wasn’t too bad at maths himself, could only watch in fascinated wonder as Quentin grasped the concepts and found the solutions almost without need of a calculator.
The way he’d smiled, too, when the teacher, Mr. Hereford, had asked him to show his work.
“I can’t show my work,” Quentin had shot back, bold as brass. “My work’s in my head.”
“Step by step,” Mr. Hereford said. “That’s how we do it. Shows that you understand the concepts.”
