Just for Fun (22 page)

“Still getting used to it, myself,” Nic admitted. “It’s so
much . . . responsibility. I want to do it right, and I don’t always know how.”

“It is,” Finn agreed. “But there’s nothing better. Footy’s
the best way in the world to earn a living, and it’s a hell of a lot of fun,
but it’s not a life. My family, being a dad—that’s my life. I cried like a baby
when both my kids were born. And I’ll cry this time, too.”

“You?” Nic asked in shock.

Finn laughed. “Yeh. Me. Biggest baby in the room. I don’t
care how much of a hard man you are. When you see your kid come out, become a
person, that’s a miracle. And if you’re lucky enough to love his mum, that’s
even better,” he said, serious now. “Better for your kids, too.”

“We aren’t there,” Nic said. “Not now, anyway.”

Finn nodded. “Fair enough. You’ve been through some upheaval
lately, I know that.”

Nic turned away at last, and they started down the hallway
again. “But one thing I’ll say,” Finn offered as he held the door for Nic to
swing inside the locker room. “Do everything you can to stay in that boy’s
life. Because he needs you. And whether you know it or not, you need him too.”  

Nic took the final hop down the steps to Emma’s front door
the following Monday evening, one hand on the rail, the other awkwardly holding
both crutches and the bag with the wine. Emma had invited him for dinner again,
to his relief. The house had begun to seem much too big and lonely since his
injury. The breakup with Claudia had meant the loss of most of their mutual
friends as well. Which only made sense, since they’d mostly been her friends in
the first place. What hurt more was his exclusion from the squad, his real
home. And there were only so many hours a man with one working leg could spend
in the gym.

Zack opened the door at his knock, and Nic immediately felt
better at the boy’s warm greeting.

“Does your foot really hurt?” Zack asked once Nic was
situated on the couch.

“Nah,” Nic assured him. “Healing up pretty well now. I’ll be
off the crutches in another week, and into a brace. And back playing again in a
few more weeks, touch wood.” He knocked lightly on the coffee table.

Emma came out of the kitchen, cheeks a bit flushed from the
heat of the stove, carrying two glasses of the Australian Shiraz he’d brought.
Well, there were
some
compensations for injury. Wine, and being here
with her. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she promised. “Spaghetti. Another exciting
culinary adventure, here at Chez Martens.”

“Suits me,” he said. “Nothing wrong with a bit of mince. And
by the way,” he remembered. “Meant to tell you. I heard that Jenna had that
baby, on Saturday.”

“At last,” Emma said with relief, sinking into the armchair
and picking up her glass. “And?”

“And what?” he asked in confusion. “She had it, and everyone’s
fine. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“How big was she?” Emma pressed. “The baby?”

“How big?”

“How much did she weigh? How long was she?”

“I
don’t know. How would I know that?”

“Didn’t you
ask?
Or didn’t somebody say?”

“Nah,” he said in confusion. “Was I meant to ask?”

“Well, it would have been nice. Never mind. I’ll find out.
What’s her name? I don’t think they’d decided. Or I didn’t hear before, at any
rate. All I knew is that it was a girl.”

“Can’t remember. Some flower.”

“Some
flower?”
she asked incredulously. “What the
heck
do
you remember?”

“I told you. I heard she had the baby, and I thought you’d
like to know. So I remembered to tell you. Don’t I get
any
points for
that?”

“Not many. Try harder. Rose? Poppy? Uh . . . Daisy? Violet?
Lily?”

“Lily,” he said with relief. “That was it. Lily.”

“
Thank
you. I’ll ring Jenna tomorrow,” Emma planned.
“And see if I can take Sophie and Harry off her hands, the next time Finn’s out
of town. I can deliver her baby present then as well. And see that baby, and
find out how much she
weighed.
”

She brought the subject up again later, once Zack was in bed.
Nic was pitching in on the drying as usual, crutches and all, while she did the
washing-up. He seemed taller than ever, balanced on one foot beside her. His
T-shirt was stretched tight over his chest, and her eyes kept drifting despite
herself to his big, clever hands working the tea towel over the dishes, his
solid forearms with their ridges of muscle, that bit of bicep revealed by his short
sleeves. She could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. He’d always
been warmer than she had, she remembered. Sometimes, in the tropical Fijian
climate, he’d felt a bit too hot. But now, in a New Zealand winter . . . that
heat would feel so good against her skin.

“The All Blacks will be in Australia this week, right?” she
asked, trying to give her thoughts another direction.

“You’ve got the schedule memorized, I see. Yeh, they’ll be
gone from Wednesday morning, back Sunday.”

“I’ll see if I can take Jenna’s kids Saturday, then. How are
you feeling about not being with the team? Is it pretty bad?”

“Yeh. I’m gutted,” he said bluntly. “Injuries are part of
the game, and this one wasn’t too bad. Being knocked out of the Cup, now, that
would’ve been a real blow. But you always hate being left behind.”

“On the other hand,” he went on, “it gives me a chance to
spend some time with Zack. I was thinking about a few days at my bach, just outside
of Leigh. School holidays now, right? And you said you were taking a holiday yourself
next week.”

“Right,” she agreed cautiously.

“I was planning on going up next Sunday, soon as I’m shed of
these bloody crutches, and coming back again on Thursday. I thought the two of
you might like to come along, unless you’ve made other plans for your holiday.”

“I haven’t.” She didn’t want to tell him that she hadn’t
been able to afford to go away, even to visit her parents. Instead, she’d been
planning a couple of museum visits, a trip to an indoor pool, playdates with
Graham and Zack’s other friends. A seaside bach might be the Kiwi holiday
ideal, but it was as far out of her reach as another trip to Fiji. “The whole
week, though?”

“Why not?” he asked reasonably. “Give Zack and me a chance
to spend more than a couple hours together. And as long as you’re there to make
sure he knows where the toilet is, and that I don’t damage him psychologically,
where’s the harm?”

“Don’t joke about it,” she warned.

“I’m not,” he said, sobered. “Seriously. It’d be better if
you were there too.”

“OK.” She felt her breath coming a little faster, her heart
beating a little harder, at the thought of spending nearly a week with him.
Tried hard to focus. “It’s a long time to take him by himself, though. If it
rains, he could get pretty restless. And it’s likely to do that, this time of
year.”

“I was thinking about a friend for him. Maybe invite Graham
as well?”

“You want
two
six-year-old boys on your holiday?”

“I want Zack. And whatever makes that work.”

“I’ll check, then. But, Nic,” she hesitated.

“Yeh? What is it?”

“Are there enough bedrooms?” she asked, unable to come out
with the real question.

“Ah.” He smiled ruefully. “Yeh. There’s the original bach,
what we call the Little House. I thought the boys could sleep there. It’s just
one room and a bath, but kids like it. A bit like camping out, in a good way.
And another two bedrooms in the main house. One for you, and one for me.”

“I just don’t want you to be . . . expecting anything.” Because
she suspected he’d been having some of the same thoughts and feelings that had
kept her awake and restless for weeks now. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to
do about them. Well, she knew what she
wanted
to do. She just wasn’t
sure what she
ought
to
do.

He was looking annoyed now. “I’m not that bastard Ryan. I’m
not
expecting
a bloody thing. A girl can even go out with me and say no
afterwards without needing self-defense training. I’m asking you and Zack—
and
Graham—to come spend a few days with me, so I can get to know my son better.
Are you asking if I’d like to sleep with you? If I want to start up again with
you? Yeh, I do. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I met you, and nothing’s
changed. If we’re talking about what I
want,
I want to kiss you, and touch
you, and make love to you all night. I’d be doing it right now, ankle and all, if
you said the word. But I’m not pushing it, am I? Because you
haven’t
said
the word.”

She felt the color rising all the way from her chest to her
face. And a flash of heat below as well, arrowing straight to the center of
her. Because she felt exactly the same way. “I don’t know if I can, though,”
she said slowly, to herself as much as to him. “I can’t do it for . . . for
fun. Not like before. Because you broke my heart, Nic. You hurt me so much. If
we got involved again  . . . you could hurt me even more, now. And Zack too,
this time. It feels too scary. Too risky. Not to mention,” she went on soberly,
“that you’re on the rebound. I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”

He shifted on the crutches to face her, completely serious
now. “I know what I did. And I’m sorry for it. But I’m not that man anymore. If
you give me your heart again, it’ll be safe with me.” He reached out to brush
her cheek with the back of his hand.

She looked up at him, saw only sincerity in the dark brown
eyes. “I’m not sure. It’d be a big step for me. Not casual.”

He smiled a bit at that. “Not casual, no. And not about any
rebound. It’d be about you and me. It’s your choice to make. If you want to
make it, I’m ready and willing. And if not . . . I’ll be disappointed. But I’ll
still be here for Zack, whatever you decide.”

“Are we almost there?” Zack demanded.

“Pretty close!” Emma said cheerfully. “Good thing Leigh’s
not very far,” she said quietly to Nic. “Just imagine if your bach was in
Taupo.”

He shuddered theatrically and grinned back at her. “Yeh. By
the time we get there, it’s going to have been a pretty long hour, eh.”

“What are we going to do today?” Graham asked now.

“Well, let’s see,” Nic considered. “How about weeding the
garden? I haven’t been up there for a bit. It could probably do with some
attention.” He laughed at the groans from the back seat. “Nah. Just joking. And
it’s too cold for snorkeling, in July. But what would you boys think about
going out around Goat Island on the glass-bottomed boat, seeing the fish at the
marine reserve?”

“It’s a boat made of
glass?”
Zack asked in
puzzlement. “Doesn’t it get broken? Wouldn’t we get wet?”

“Or cut!” Graham chimed in. “My mum says to be careful,
because glass can cut you. And then you can get bloody!”

“The
boat
isn’t made of glass,” Nic tried to explain.
“It’s the
bottom . . .
Oh, never mind. I’ll show you when we get there,
how’s that?”

“When is it going to be?” Zack asked again.

“Soon,”
Nic said in exasperation. “If your mum wasn’t
up here with her eye on the speedo, I’d be putting my foot down about now, no
worries.”

“But this is really nice!” Emma exclaimed, when Nic had pulled
up to the house with a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving. “I was expecting
something a lot more rustic, but it’s beautiful!”

“Yeh, not too bad,” Nic agreed, hopping out and beginning to
haul suitcases and bags of groceries from the back of the ute. “Give us a hand,
boys.”

“Look at the view,” Emma said with pleasure once Nic had the
front door open. Wide ranch sliders on the back and side of the modern beach
house opened onto a wraparound deck, and offered a sweeping vista of the garden
and the sea beyond.

“Yeh. Not big, and not too flash, but not bad either,” Nic
acknowledged.

“Would you
stop
with the Kiwi understatement?” she
demanded with a laugh. “It’s great!”

“Where do we sleep?” demanded Zack, unimpressed with views.

“Ah,” Nic smiled. “Let me show you. You boys get the best
spot of all.” He took them through a breezeway that led from the kitchen, and
opened another door to a cottage set next to the larger, more modern building.

“Cool,”
Zack and Graham breathed together, at the
sight of the single big room with its twin beds, large round woven rug, and wood
stove in the corner. “Look, Graham!” Zack said happily, pulling open the door
and stepping onto the patio made of weathered brick. “We have our own place out
here! We can play with our soldiers!”

“Got your bath, and even your own fridge and table,” Nic
showed them once the boys were back inside. “A cooker too, which you’re
not
to
use. A bit like a campervan, eh.”

“This is the original building?” Emma asked him.

“Yeh. This was my great-uncle’s bach,” Nic explained. “When
he died, I bought it, built the new house. But I kept this one too, partly out
of memories, all the family holidays we spent in it. And partly because for
some reason, the kids always want to sleep in here.”

“You had
family
holidays in here?” she asked
doubtfully.

He laughed. “Yeh. There was a big bed, and bunks for Dan and
me. It was cozy, all right. But you can run straight down to the sea from here.
I’ll show you the track, once we get all this gear unloaded.”

“How did you manage the clean sheets and towels?” Emma
asked, inspecting the bathroom.

“That would be Mrs. Jones. She lives down the road a bit, does
the cleaning and that for me. Keeps me from chipping my nail varnish when I’m
up here. Because you know how much I hate that.”

The glass-bottomed boat had been a success. Nobody had got
wet.
Or
cut. But they’d seen enough fish to keep both boys excited and
well occupied, then had walked the shoreline and the rocky outcrops to find more,
had let Zack and Graham explore before coming back for showers and a quick
dinner of steak and salad. Now the boys were in bed, and Nic was sitting on the
couch with Emma, watching her curled up opposite him, the pale blue of her snug
little T-shirt setting off the light flush of her cheeks from the heat of the
wood fire and the wine they’d had with dinner.