Page 39 of The Player in New Zealand
We fell quiet, both of us lost, I suspected, in our pasts.
ELEVEN
A knock resoundedthrough my hotel room; Tane was right on time.
I smoothed my button-down and grabbed my purse before answering the door. We’d checked into our separate rooms with an hour to kill before we had to leave for the rehearsal dinner.
“What happened to your T-shirt?” Tane blurted when I opened the door.
“I changed.” I looked down at myself. Instead of the pajama bottoms and T-shirt I’d worn in the car, I was wearing jeans and ankle boots and the nicest top I had—one of the black button-downs from the bar.
“You look like you’re going to work. Change back into the T-shirt.”
“It’s the nicest thing I have!”
He gestured at himself, wearing cargo shorts and a threadbare T-shirt. “I’m not your fucking boss right now.”
“I’m meeting your family.”
“They’re all going to be wearing togs and T-shirts. Change... please.”
I rolled my eyes and slammed the door in his face. Two minutes later I was out in the hall, wearing a T-shirt that said “Chaotic Neutral” across the front.
Tane dipped his chin. “Better, let’s go.”
“Geez,” I grumbled. “Way to make me feel comfortable, sir.”
He shot me a look. “Are you nervous?” he taunted, and I stuck my tongue out.
The rehearsal dinner party was at the bride’s parents’ house, Tane’s aunt and uncle, who lived out in the ’burbs. When we arrived at the two-story brick home, Tane led me to the side and paused with his hand on the gate. He held his hand out, palm up. “You ready?”
I slid my fingers into his, my thin ones sliding between his beefy ones. He tapped my ring, a thick silver band with engraved vines along it, three times with his thumb. Then he swung the gate open with one hand and pulled me close with our interlocked hands.
To my surprise, he kissed me right then and there as a cheer went up from the backyard. A quick peck and a rapscallion grin before tugging me in with him.
And yes, I was fine. Tane and Nina’s family was on par with my expectations: teasing for Tane; warm, friendly smiles for me; and generous hugs. Tane led me around, introducing me to his family as his girlfriend. There was a lot—and I meana lot—of rugby talk.
Nina and her family were there, the girls running around with similar-aged cousins and Hemi talking to a group of guys by the grill. Our greetings were brief; there were lots of people around.
“Where’s your mom?” I asked Nina.
“She’s on the committee of mums who are finishing the decorations. You’ll meet her tomorrow.”
As soon as his family heard my accent, they peppered me with questions. Tane and I got separated into different conversations, but I could feel his eyes on me. When I glanced over anytime I could, Tane’s eyebrow would rise.Just checking in: Do you need a rescue?
I realized, then, that I hadn’t really been around that many locals. The hostel was full of foreigners and when I socialized with my coworkers, they were usually the working-holiday-visa ones. The Kiwis I worked with dispersed back to their homes and families at the end of the night.
We ate from the grill as I tried to answer questions on topics I knew nearly nothing about, such as gerrymandering and foreign policy. Who knew that this was why I should have paid attention in history class, to impress my fake Kiwi boyfriend’s family? But they were either impressed or amused by American politics, so I seemed to be doing a decent job of remembering things.
I had finished my dinner by the time Tane had broken away from conversation to get his own plate. He straddled the bench beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing, kissing my temple. After an hour or so talking to strangers, the familiarity of his hand relaxed me. He shifted toward my ear, his breath ghosting over my cheek.
“Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said. “Your family”—I waved around to encompass everyone—“is pretty great.”
Tane grunted and picked up a thick stack of burgers—they put odd things on their burgers here. Even McDonald’s had a Kiwiburger with fried egg and beet slices on it. His knee pressed up against the side of my thigh.
“So, Claire, what have you been doing here in New Zealand?” Tane’s uncle Matt—the father of the bride—asked me.
