Page 159 of Just One Look

Not Exactly Mastitis

When the phone rang,Luka was asleep. He didn’t want to answer, so he didn’t. The phone rang again, and he put the pillow over his head.

The third time, he rolled over and picked up. His neck gave an almighty stab, because he’d forgotten to take the tablets. “What,” he growled. It was still daylight, though it was fading. Five o’clock, maybe.

“It’s Marko, mate,” the voice at the other end said. “Nyree says you’re to come for dinner.”

“Uh …” Luka pressed his eyelids shut with finger and thumb and tried to think. “I’m … The neck’s a bit buggered still. Can’t.”

“She said you’d say that,” Marko said. “Also that you can bloody well drive. You drove on Monday, she says. Not sure how she knows that, but she seems sure. Also that you probably aren’t taking your meds, so that’s not an excuse, either. I’m doing a lamb curry with pumpkin and papaya, if that helps.”

Luka exhaled. “Look, tonight’s not the best, OK?”

“Sorry, mate,” Marko said, “but she says you’re coming.”

What?He stared at the phone. No answer there.

A rustle on the other end, and Nyree’s voice, Maori accent and Maori command. “Luka? You’re coming to dinner. Now, because it’s ready. Get your shoes on and come over. If you don’t, I’ll know the hero bit’s gone to your head.”

“What? What hero bit?”

“You’re top of the news, boy,” she said. “And I need you to come tell me about it. Rattle your dags.”

“You can’t be having dinner yet,” he tried next. “It’s, uh …”

“Five,” she said. “And, yeh, we’re having dinner, because I’ve had a hard day. Arielle wouldn’t sleep last night, and I’ve got … I’ve got mastitis as well. That’s not just in cows, it turns out, and it’s bloody awful. Marko won’t want to tell you, female parts and so forth, soI’mtelling you. I have chills. I have a fever. It burns like fire to feed the bub, and I have to feed her anyway.” Her voice was wavering a bit now. “Please. I need distraction. Please come.”

* * *

Nyree rangoff and handed the phone back to Marko without looking at him. “I’ll lay the table,” she said.

He’d been leaning against the kitchen bench, his arms crossed, frowning at her. Now, though, he put a hand out and grabbed her arm when she would have turned away. “No,” he said. “You won’t. Come back here. Mastitis? Seriously? That was your best idea? Pretty insulting to let Luka believe I’d allow you to get mastitis, too, now I think about it.”

“I had to think of something,” she said, “and it was all that came to me. And excuse me? Toallowme to get mastitis? It’s your decision, now, what diseases I get? You’re pushing. Bodily autonomy, boy.” Chin up, ready to fight.

He had to grin, didn’t he? “Yeh, to allow you to get it. Who ordered the lanolin? Who reminds you to use the lanolin? Who puts the lanolinon?”

“Yeh, right,” she said. “After you’ve been there, enjoying yourself. Bloody insatiable, aren’t you. I’m not a sex doll.”

“You think this is distracting me from my purpose,” he said. “It’s not.” Though he did, somehow, have her pulled back against him, and his hands on a couple of his favorite parts, too. The baby was asleep, and it would take Luka a good twenty-five minutes to get here, surely. “Hurry up and tell me,” he said, “because I need to put you up on this benchtop and fuck your pretty brains out, and I’m tired of waiting.”

She shuddered in that full-body way she did, the way that got him every time, and he bent down and kissed her neck. And then he bit it. “Tell me,” he said. “Now.”

She turned in his arms, though, he ripped her shirt off and got her leggings down, and somehow, he forgot to ask again.

* * *

The light had faded,and then it was dark, and Elizabeth was still on the floor. Finally, though, when the cold was seeping into her bones and her face itched from the salty remnants of tears, she rolled, staggered to her feet, and blundered into the kitchen, taking a few tries to hit the rocker switch for the lights.

Oh. That was bright. She blinked against it, still feeling groggy and thoroughly disheveled, turned on the tap, and ran herself a glass of water. She drank it down, then got another one, possibly holding onto the tap for support, and heard the flapping sound of the dog door closing. Webster allowing himself to leave, because the crisis was over.

Webster.She held the glass to her lips with a shaking hand, tried to breathe, and couldn’t. After that, she found her phone in her purse and groaned when she saw the time. She had to drop Webster in Kohimarama, drive all the way back here to leave the car, andthenget an Uber to the airport for international check-in. And her flight left in three hours!

Also, she had six texts. All from Nyree.

Coming soon?

Where are you?