Page 52 of Under Southern Stars
“Nah, we’re putting you on the wing.” I catch Sophia’s eye. “Thought you might enjoy the fresh air.”
Madison rolls her eyes dramatically. “Ha ha. Very funny.” She points her fork at me. “At least come up with original dad jokes if you’re going to try.”
I clutch my chest in mock offense. “Original dad jokes? That’s a high standard. I’ll have to up my game.”
“You’d better,” she grins, then turns thoughtful. “Sixteen hours though. That’s, like, forever.”
“It goes faster than you think,” I assure her. “Especially with good movies and real food.”
“This is going to be amazing.” Madison takes another bite. “Oh! Can we see those glow worms Mom mentioned?”
“Waitomo Caves? Probably! They’re about two hours from Auckland.”
“And we’ll meet your whole family?”
“If that’s alright. They’re pretty keen to meet you both.”
“What are they like?”
“Loud,” I say immediately. “My sister Charlotte runs the family business, very organized. Emma, as you know, is therugby coach—she’ll probably try to recruit you. And Lily’s the baby, doing her PhD in marine biology.”
“The one living Mom’s dream,” Madison says with a grin.
“Exactly.”
“And your parents?”
“Dad’s…traditional. Mum’s lovely but has opinions about everything.” I pause. “Fair warning—she’ll probably try to feed you constantly. It’s her love language.”
“I can handle that.” Madison looks thoughtful. “Do they know about us? Like, that Mom and I are coming?”
“They know I’m bringing two very special people to meet them.”
“Smooth,” Madison says approvingly. “You’re good at this.”
“At what?”
“The boyfriend thing. Way better than Dad’s girlfriends.” She makes a face. “Tiffany kept calling me ‘sweetie’ and trying to bond over ‘girl stuff.’ Like, I just met you, lady.”
“Madison,” Sophia warns.
“What? It’s true. She tried to give me a crystal for ‘positive athletic energy.’” She looks at me. “You don’t believe in crystal healing, right?”
“Only if the crystal’s been properly prescribed by a medical professional.”
Madison laughs. “See? Normal. Mom, he’s normal.”
“Mostly,” Sophia agrees, catching my eye.
We finish dinner with easy conversation—Madison telling stories about school, asking about New Zealand wildlife, wondering if she’ll be able to understand our accents.
“Right,” I say once we’re done. “Who wants to learn about pavlova?”
“Me!” Madison jumps up. “Is it really the national dessert?”
“There’s some debate. Aussies claim they invented it, but they’re wrong.” I start gathering ingredients. “It’s named after a Russian ballerina, Anna Pavlova, who toured both countries in the 1920s.”
“Food history! I love this.” Madison watches as I separate eggs. “Mom, are you helping?”
