Page 144 of Playing for Keeps

“Did you say anything to Mum about her attitude to Ethan?”

“I might have told her that she needed to pull her head out of her ass or she risked losing her son and grandson,” she said.

“Char!”

“What?” Char gave me a small smile. “We need more straight talking in this family, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

And there did seem to be other positive changes happening in our family. Dad had decided to take up watercolor painting as a hobby. Judging by his attempts so far, he’d contributed exactly zero genes to Char’s artistic talent. But it meant he was constantly peppering Char with questions about composition and aspect, which Char didn’t seem to mind.

Ali sidled up to me. “Great party.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s going a bit smoother than the proposals, anyway.”

“Oh, bite me.”

Yeah, Ethan’s and my attempts to propose to each other had provided some good joke fodder for our team. Luckily, we’d gotten there in the end.

“I like the hairdo.” Ali snickered, nodding to a picture currently on display on an oversized TV screen behind the bar.

As a surprise for us tonight, Char had put together a montage of photos of Ethan and me together growing up. It was safe to say my haircut choices over the years had resulted in some massive fails and only a scattering of wins.

I watched the revolving photos. A class photo from when we were seven, Ethan in the front row with missing front teeth, me one of the taller kids near the back. Rugby rep under thirteens team where I was scowling at the camera while Ethan grinned next to me. The two of us by Lake Wanaka as gawky fourteen-year-olds, the year before I had my growth spurt, so Ethan was actually taller than me. Us with a bunch of our mates from high school, all of us dressed in tuxes for our school ball, arms around each other’s shoulders, Ethan and I grinning from the center of the group.

Ali was standing next to me, watching the photos flick through. “Fuck, you guys have so much history,” he said.

“Yeah.” My voice came out hoarse.

The next photo was one Char had stolen off my Instagram. It was from only a few months ago when Ethan and I had taken Theo skiing. We hadn’t skied much ourselves because we didn’t want to risk injury, but we’d been on the beginner slopes with Theo and had taken a selfie on the ski-lift, beanies pulled low, ski goggles perched on top of our heads.

Ethan was between Theo and me, pulling the funny face he used to do as a kid, flaring his nostrils and doing some kind of cross-eyed thing while Theo and I both looked at him, laughing.

As I stared at the photo, I could almost hear the echo of Theo’s and my laughter. Our identical laughs, as Ethan liked to point out.

I glanced across the room at Ethan. As if he sensed my eyes on him, he lifted his gaze to me. For a few seconds we stared at each other, then he raised his beer bottle in a silent toast.

I gave him a salute in return, and watched my future husband’s face split into one of his sunshine grins.

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