Page 38 of Secrets in Love
“So, she’s roughly this one’s size?” she said, grabbing Leia by the waist and sizing her.
“Yep, looks about right.” I nodded.
“And style-wise, what is she into? Who are her fashion influences?”
I scratched the back of my head and winced. “Umm, honestly, I don’t think she has any. She likes Taylor Swift a lot. Oh, and she does ballet and likes daisies. But she’s a surfer, a bit of a free spirit and wears lots of old hippie sort of stuff…and thongs. She loves a good pair of thongs. She has amazing feet.”
“Ballet, orange, and thongs…on her feet?” Alexa’s eyes nearly popped from her perfectly groomed head. “Do you mean thongs as in underwear?”
“Oh, no, shit. I don’t know what undies she wears. By thongs I mean feet thongs. You know, flip-flops?”
“Oh my God, shut up!” Jada lunged at me again. “You are adorable, and your accent is amazing!”
After taking a few deep breaths, Alexa’s slightly frightening persona relaxed, and she set to work. “Right, then. Let’s look at some boho styles.”
Too many minutes later, Leia had tried on umpteen outfits, and I found the perfect dress featuring the season’s hallmark smocked neckline. It was designed in a relaxed silhouette that gracefully flared away from the body while delicate pleats and poet sleeves infused it with a Bohemian sensibility. I didn’t know any of that off-hand, by the way. It was on the tag.
One more thing was purchased—a new carry-on bag, big enough to hide all of my loot and the few items I had brought with me. Once that was packed, it was time for my new friends to catch their flight. But not before doling out one final pep talk. “Nate. If she’s as stubborn as you say, she may need some convincing that a relationship with you is okay, especially with your shared past. But she sounds like your true soulmate. Don’t give up on her, okay?”
“Thanks, girls. And don’t worry, I don’t think I could even if I tried.”
They had only made it a few steps away when Jada came running back up to my side, planting a massive kiss on my cheek and slipping me a piece of paper. “Here’s my number. Just in case you do give up.”
“Jada! That’s not fair. We agreed he was a no-go!” Still arguing over me, the girls disappeared into the crowd of travelers, leaving me and my massive head to get some Texas BBQ, despair over the lack of messages from Evie, and wait for my next damn flight.
The last thing I’d done before leaving home was sneak into Mum and Dad’s. My mission: take a photo of a photo. Time was not on my side. If I was going to escape without waking the olds, who I’d said goodbye to the previous night, I had to snap the first one I found. And oh, what a ripper it was, taken amid the chaos of Christmas lunch, when Evie was still at home with little Iris, Finn was commuting back and forth between Sydney and Byron Bay, and I was taking them both for granted. If only I knew then what little time I had left with my most favorite neighbors, I would have done things differently.
Anyway, the photo itself was a classic, one of my mum’s super shit specialties. Each of us wore a stupid but traditional Aussie Christmas paper crown, and no warning was given before she snapped away. Everyone captured was either blinking, drinking, had their mouths wide open or, in Evie’s case, crammed full of food. We all looked truly hideous, except, of course, for my Gidget. Somehow, despite gorging on what appeared to be several roast potatoes, having a massive blob of gravy on the side of her lip, and appearing to be mid-argument with Finn, her golden skin and shimmering locks took my breath away.
Predictably, sitting right next to the raging Evie was me, looking at her like the sun shone from her ass and I was just hanging around for the tan.
I was on my third rack of sticky ribs in the airport cafeteria when my phone pinged, and that very photo lit up my screen.
“Holy shit.” I coughed at the top of my lungs, spraying meat over the table, and drawing the ire of the cowboy sitting next to me. “Sorry ’bout that, mate.”
My shaking hands dropped my fork as my phone kept beeping with three consecutive messages, paralyzing my heart and drawing all air from my lungs. I swallowed the last of my watered-down beer, said a silent prayer, and prepared to read the first text. As I did, a nasal voice overhead began announcing the final boarding for my flight. “Shit!” I hadn’t even heard the first two. Gathering the dozen or so shopping bags strewn at my feet, I hustled to the gate, reading Evie’s words, and reminding myself to breathe.
Evie : 5:50 pm : I can’t believe you would waste your money coming over here to prove some macho point. What about the farm? What’s your dad going to do without you?
Evie : 5:55 pm : Still can’t believe you’ve done this. It’s incredibly irresponsible and impulsive and not at all needed. I am a big girl, and I can look after myself.
Hope your flight was okay.
Evie : 5:00 pm : What time will you be here? I can’t wait to see you.
Evie : 5:01 pm : Thank you for the messages. I will never forget them. XXOO
My grumpy girl was softening.
Evie
“How far along are you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Glam as always, water was dripping from my Rudolf-red nose, my damp hair clung to my cheeks, and I must have bloody reeked as I stared back at the smiling stranger’s reflection in the mirror beside me. I was at JFK, waiting for Nate, and just finished my third round of hurling my absolute guts up.
Yes, the nervous chucks had struck me again, and it was bad. Real bad. The Pad Thai I’d eaten three days ago made another appearance—bad. Of course, a woman violently vomiting gave a complete stranger—the higher-the-hair-the-closer-to-God type—the right to ask me if I was pregnant. Hair lady picked the wrong day.
