Page 40

MILLIE

Finish that sentence

Winston and I drive along the winding driveway of Noah’s parents’ house after dropping Ellis at the airport.

When the sweeping house comes into view, my jaw drops.

Holy shit. It’s enormous and stunningly beautiful, with wide steps leading up to a wrap-around deck.

Large gum trees line the driveway and sides of the house, and what looks to be a body of water sparkles at the bottom of the hill to the left.

“Jesus, Winston,” I whisper, pulling my car in front of the house. “It’s a fucking hotel.”

When I kill the ignition, I take an enormous breath in to steady my nerves. I’m about to meet Noah’s family; his parents, his brother and sister-in-law, his baby sister and his niece, who walks on water. Under the ruse of a big, fat lie.

I let Winston out of the car and gather my bags, right as I hear footsteps behind me. “Millie! Winston!”

I spin around to face a petite, athletic young woman, who’s bending to pat Winston.

She’s wearing cut-off denim shorts and a cropped shirt, exposing her toned midriff.

Her smile is as wide as Noah’s and her bright eyes match her brother’s in terms of green, but they’re more almond-shaped. She’s drop-dead gorgeous.

“Winston is perfect,” she purrs, letting him lick the side of her face.

I smile, holding out my hand. “You must be Gabrielle.”

“Gabby, please.” She stands and ignores my hand, pulling me in for a hug. “And I’m a hugger, not a shaker. I know that makes lots of people uncomfortable, but I don’t care. Merry Christmas.”

I laugh as she stands back. “Merry Christmas. I appreciate your honesty.”

“You’re welcome. I was grabbing more pool towels when I saw your car. Everyone’s out back.”

Gabby leads Winston and me inside, her high, sun-streaked ponytail bouncing with as much pep as her step. Noah told me their whole family surfs, but I’d have guessed that about Gabby with her tan and toned limbs alone.

Soothing, cold air-conditioned air hits my skin as we enter the house, the scents of coconut and cinnamon wafting into my nostrils.

The inside of the house is more homely than I imagined, and my heart warms at how much it looks lived in.

Framed photos pepper the cream walls, handmade decorations cover the wonky Christmas tree in the living room and the mismatched furniture gives the house so much character.

“Noah and Jared are in the middle of some world-saving game of pool basketball,” Gabby tells me over her shoulder. She grabs a stack of towels from a side table. “You can drop your stuff here for now.”

I place my bags on the tiled floor, holding onto my welcome gift (a bottle of Noah’s mum’s favourite white wine) as Gabby motions for me to follow her through a sitting room, littered with children’s toys.

My lips part when the enormous, rustic kitchen comes into view, complete with a twelve-ring gas stove and a fridge quadruple the size of mine.

The ceilings are high, and doorways lead off to multiple hallways, making me wonder how big this place is, and how rich Noah and his family are.

My parents were renting a place when they passed away.

Dad was still an apprentice mechanic and mum was a substitute teacher.

Money wasn’t something we had a lot of. When they died and Donna took me in, Ellis and I shared a room until Ellis turned thirteen and Donna converted the office into my new room.

Ellis and I are living in the same tiny house Donna raised us in.

The open fold-out doors overlook the sparkling swimming pool, currently hosting several people shrieking and splashing. Noah is one of them, a ball held over his head and the man I recognise from photos as Jared tackles him, taking them both under the water.

“Like I said,” Gabby says dryly. “World-saving.”

“I’ve come to learn that about Noah,” I reply. “Not only is he passionate about surfing, but he’s passionate about winning.”

“Winning comes before everything.” Gabby nods her agreement. “What are you drinking? You should have something in hand to take the edge off the daunting meet-the-parents moment. We have beer, seltzers and wine.”

“A beer would be great, thanks.”

Gabby grabs one from the enormous fridge and pops it open for me, slapping it into my hand. “Don’t be nervous. They already love you. Noah hasn’t shut up about you.”

I take a refreshing sip to hide behind as we head back out into the blazing sun, Winston trotting loyally by my side, almost as if he can sense my nerves.

As we walk down the steps and onto the grass to the pool fence, I hazard a guess the man fetching drinks from the bar fridge is Noah’s dad, and the woman with dark sunglasses watching from a chair is Noah’s mother.

When she spots Gabby and me approaching, she launches out of her chair, arms waving.

“Oh, Millie! I’m so glad you’re here! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” I hold my beer up in a cheers gesture and my gaze settles on Noah. His torso glistens from specks of water and he lifts his mouth into his gorgeous half smile at the sound of my voice, before Jared tackles him from behind again.

We enter the pool area and Noah’s mother drops her sunglasses, pulling me in for a bone-crushing hug. “Noah’s told us so much about you. It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I’m Joan.”

Joan oozes happiness. Her blue eyes sparkle almost as much as the gold jewellery dripping from her fingers. Her round face donning a kind and inviting smile. In contrast to the rest of the family, her cropped hair is mahogany, and she wears a vibrant red lipstick to match.

“Noah has told me so much about you, too. Thank you so much for having me and Winston.” I hold out the gift bag. “This is for you.”

She smiles in delight as she takes the bag, pulling the bottle out. “Oh, it’s my favourite! How did you know?”

“Call it a hunch.”

We laugh and she introduces me to Rick, Noah’s father, who is the definition of a silver fox.

Salt and pepper hair, tan skin and the fittest rig I’ve seen on a man in his fifties in a long time.

Rick shakes my hand with a big smile before turning his attention to Winston, who’s patiently waiting for any bit of food to drop from the sky.

“Can he have a bite?” Rick asks, holding a cube of cheese.

“Sure, but fair warning, he will be your shadow if you feed him.”

Rick beams at Winston and gives him the cheese. Winston’s going to love it here.

“Hey, Maelstrom.” I turn to see Noah’s bright smile. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

“It’s all good,” I assure him. “Gabby said you had an end-of-the-world, dire straits game to win.”

“And win, I did.”

“He cheated!” Jared booms from behind him, towelling himself off.

“Bullshit,” Noah snickers. “He’s a terrible loser.”

“This whole family is filled with terrible losers,” Joan sighs, returning to her chair in the shade.

Rick holds up his hand, a piece of cheese hovering in Winston’s eyesight again. “If you’re not first?—”

“You’re last!” Everyone around the pool chimes in, with a thick American twang.

“We don’t actually believe that,” Joan assures me.

“We do,” Noah says with a wink. “Merry Christmas, Maelstrom.” I watch the roll of his throat as he leans down and plants a chaste kiss on my cheek. It’s wet and soft, and I fight the urge to trace the spot with my hand as he pulls away.

“Merry Christmas,” I murmur.

My hormones and emotions are firing off all at once, ping-ponging around my body as they try to untangle what’s real in this moment. Our flow has been off all week, and while I’m certain he regrets what happened in the tent, there’s an unmistakable buzz of electricity humming between our bodies.

“Did you and Ellis have a good day yesterday?” Noah asks, running his towel over his head.

“We did. It was weird and sad, but it was good.”

Noah knows this. He messaged me yesterday to check up on us, but it still melts me a little to see the concern.

“Good.” He rests his towel around his shoulders. “Let’s do the rest of the introductions so you can relax.”

Noah takes me by the hand as he introduces me to the remaining members of the family, who are every bit as wonderful as he said.

Jared is a handsome and quick-witted building engineer who loves fatherhood.

His heavily pregnant wife Eliza is stunning without a lick of makeup on her face, her strawberry-blonde hair buried under a wide-brimmed hat as she talks excitedly about the upcoming arrival of their second baby.

Three-year-old Willow’s crashed out asleep in a pop-up tent in the corner, cuddling a mermaid doll, blonde curls splayed above her head.

They welcome me like I’ve known them for years, conversations bouncing loudly back and forth between them.

Gabby makes a point of filling me in on any gaps in the stories I’m not aware of and whenever Joan’s near me, she makes an effort to pat my arm or rub my back.

It’s not intrusive or annoying, and a lump forms in my throat.

When Noah announces he needs to use the bathroom, he leads me out of the fenced off pool area towards the pool house behind it.

He opens the French door to blissful air-conditioning, and I gasp when I see the inside.

This room is rustic-themed, with giant throw rugs and shaggy carpets covering stripped-back timber floors.

The bed is enormous, stacked with pillows in cream and grey and a handmade blanket draped at its base.

“This is beautiful,” I murmur as Noah shuts the door behind me.

Noah glances around the room, still holding my hand. “Mum and Gabby have great taste. They bring the old and new school vibes to every room in the house.”

I do my best not to stare at Noah’s taut chest or his rippling abs or his defined biceps, but it’s overwhelming. I have no idea how I’m going to survive this weekend without caving into my wayward thoughts and jumping his bones.