Page 101 of Reckless Hearts

“Has he got a boyfriend at the moment?” Mum asks.

I pour myself a glass of wine, wishing it was something stronger.

“Nah, he’s just focusing on his career at the moment. He used to have all these great stories about the guys he was seeing, but the last year or so, he hasn’t really been dating.”

“He must get lonely.”

Saskia shrugs. “Marcus is weird. He goes through periods where it seems like he’s not even interested in guys. He was like that when we were in the States, you know. That trip where he got discovered? He was a monk on that trip. Guys were constantly propositioning him, and he turned them all down.”

I almost choke on my mouthful of wine.

Marcus didn’t hook up with anyone on his trip with Saskia?

My mind spins. I’d assumed he spent that entire trip hooking up, that it was part of the reason he didn’t contact me after he decided to stay in the US.

“Maybe he doesn’t actually tell you about his conquests because he wants to keep it private.” Tom’s tone is benign, but it feels like there is an undercurrent to his words.

Saskia turns to her husband, her eyes narrowing. “Marcus is my best friend. He tells me everything.”

Shit. Somehow, in the awkwardness, my eyes meet my father’s across the table. I can see in the small quirk of hiseyebrows he’s remembering walking in on Marcus and me in Fiji.

I drop my gaze.

“I’m sure he does, honey. You and Marcus have always been close,” Mum soothes.

“Maybe too close,” Tom mutters.

Another awkward silence descends over the room.

“Right. Does anyone want some turkey?” Mum asks brightly.

But it appearsthe day hasn’t finished delivering its quota of awkwardness.

During dessert, Saskia starts telling me about the brother of her colleague, who she apparently thinks is perfect for me.

“I don’t want to date. I’m just focusing on my research,” I mutter.

“You can’t bury yourself in research forever.” She bites her lip, her forehead creasing. “I worry about you being lonely. Don’t you want someone to come home to?”

Yes, I want someone to come home to. But that’s not an option, and talking to Marcus is almost as good.

“Trista’s already shown him your picture, and he thinks you’re cute,” Saskia continues. “Just give him a chance, Seb. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Maybe you should let Seb control his own life?” Help comes from the most unlikely source: Tom.

But from the way he’s looking at Saskia, I’m not sure if helping me is his primary motivation.

Saskia goes quiet, and my father launches into a golf story to break the tension.

It’s almost a relief when lunch ends and I can retreat to the back deck. I sit, staring up at the Pohutukawa tree overhangingthe deck. It’s covered with crimson flowers, fitting with its reputation as New Zealand’s Christmas tree.

I snap a picture of it and send it to Marcus, accompanied by a message.

Did you know some Pohutukawa trees can live for hundreds of years?

When my father comes onto the deck to clean the BBQ, I stuff my phone back into my pocket and stand to help him.

“Job going well?” he asks.