“The cook’s a rugby fan,” Jo said with a wink. “Rumor has it he has a picture of you in his locker. And he’s not even from New Zealand. He’s English, the traitor.”
“Well, I have to thank him personally.”
“You may very well make his year by doing that.”
Jo started to leave when Neela remembered what she’d been doing when the nurse had appeared. “When did the flowers arrive?”
Jo followed her gaze to the windowsill. “Late last night. I signed for them, actually. It’s unusual for us to receive a delivery so late at night. Whoever sent these to you must have a bit of influence.” She walked to the display and pulled the card for Neela. “This really is a beautiful arrangement. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. I’m under strict instructions from your captain to make sure you’re watching your team play. They’re in the semis, I gather?”
“You’re not a rugby fan?”
Jo smiled. “No, not really. Maybe I’m the real traitor to England and not the cook. I don’t particularly care for sport. I hope you’re not offended.”
“No, of course not.”
After Jo had drawn the curtain for privacy, Neela fingered the heavy linen card. She didn’t have much experience receiving flowers. In fact, this was the first time she’d gotten something delivered that she didn’t have to pay for.
You should have pinched her. Blake xo
Neela snorted then groaned at the pain.
A soft smile stayed on her lips as she fingered the delicate petals of the nearest rose within her reach. She inched closer and welcomed the whisper-sweet scent that broke the sterile air.
“Oh, Blake,” she whispered as tears formed unexpectedly.
She brushed them away quickly and turned on the TV, scrolling to the channel she believed would show the competition. But whenever her eyes rested on the flowers, the smile returned.
Later that afternoon, twenty women with bronze medals around their necks barreled into her hospital room. They were followed by the head coach and his assistants.
“Thought you might want to see what we could do without you,” Leila said as she showed Neela the medal. She softened her voice. “You all right?”
Neela nodded. “No worse than usual.” She turned to the rest of the squad. “A good result, girls! Always a win to beat Australia! Congratulations!”
Mel sat at the foot of the bed. “Yeah. We managed to pull it off without you. Did you see us look sad for a minute right after the Haka? That was for you.”
The team cheered.
“Nice flowers.” Leila walked over to the arrangement and read the card. Her smile grew wider, and Neela rolled her eyes, knowing what was going to be unleashed in precisely two seconds.
“Blake Stanton sent these to you?”
Mel reached over to grab the card out of Leila’s hands. “He signed it with an X and an O! That’s so romantic!”
Neela shot Leila an exasperated look as she watched the card being passed around the team followed by a barrage of questions and suggestions.
The coach stepped out from his corner after ten more minutes of good-natured ribbing. “All right, all right, ladies. Give her a break.”
Steve Haughton pulled the card from one of the players and handed it back to Neela. “I hear that the doctor wants to give you one final look-over before they release you.” He glanced at the display. “I had a call from RugNZ asking if your boyfriend could get the name of the hospital you were at.”
“OOOOOO! Boyfriend,” Mel teased as heat flamed Neela’s face.
“I’m glad my daughter follows Blake Stanton on Twitter. Otherwise, this would have been news to me,” Steve said. He leaned closer to Neela. “You scared me for a minute.”
“I’m all right. Just a bit of a harder knock than usual.”
Fifteen minutes later, the team prepared to leave. Lars would be back after she was discharged. “You might as well enjoy the peace and quiet while you’re here,” Steve advised her.
With no other patients in the room, Neela felt the solitude more acutely after the team’s departure. She looked at the flowers again. She should message Blake to let him know she had received them and that she was enjoying them.
She hoped this was how he treated all his friends.
She reached for her phone, turned it on and was surprised by the first message that appeared.
Rieann: Blake called to let us know you were okay. Joe put in another $50 in the pool.
Neela laughed silently as she leaned back into her pillow.
Neela: Glad to know I mean so much.
Rieann responded immediately.
Rieann: Are you really okay?
Neela: Yes. Being discharged later today. Team has a full day in Sydney for PR before flying home. Will need to stay in AUK for a bit. Policy.
Neela looked back at the flowers. She needed to know.
Neela: Did Dad say anything?
Rieann’s delayed response was the answer Neela expected.
Rieann: No.
Neela put down her phone, ignoring whatever it was that Rieann said next. She suspected it would be the usual excuses for their father’s behavior. He was probably out at sea; the game was in the middle of the day; he was working.
She had heard them all before, first from Mum and then from Rieann. At least Joe and Sam never made excuses for Dad. They didn’t even try to explain their father’s lack of interest in his youngest child.
Her phone buzzed, indicating a call rather than a message.
“Darl?”
“Blake?”
“I haven’t disturbed you, have I? Leila said she just saw you.”
“You’ve been in touch with Leila?”
“Yeah. I had to find a way to get an update. I wasn’t sure if I would get any news from RugNZ.”
“The flowers are beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like them. That was quite a hit.”
“I’m all right. Really. Lots of fussing for nothing.”
“Get some rest. I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Thanks, Blake.”
“You’re welcome, darl.”
Neela looked back at the flowers, then at the ceiling, trying to squash the warmth that had begun radiating inside her when she’d heard his voice. She pulled a rose from the arrangement. As she inhaled its perfume, the lightness in her heart started to give way to the heaviness of dread.
Damnit, Blake. I can’t be someone’s disappointment again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“One more, Blake. Please. That’s good. Now, let’s turn your face just a little to your right. Perfect. Now, back at the camera. A serious look, please. Yes. That’s great.”
The photographer stood up and looked at his camera, checking the last few images he had shot. Blake relaxed his pose. He knew the makeup artist from a previous shoot; she moved in quickly during the break to check for any blemishes in her work.
He liked Lucy. She was easygoing, friendly but not overly chatty. “Do I need a touch-up?” he asked.
Lucy held up a mirror to check his hairline. She was the only makeup artist he knew who would do that. He added “perfectionist” to her list of traits.
“No, you’re good,” Lucy said with a grin. “How’s the ankle?”
“All good. But when did you ever care about rugby?”
“Never. I asked because you’re one of my favorite models.”
Blake smiled. Model? He guessed he was, even though it was because of his success on the pitch. “Your favorite?”
“Just one of my favorites. Don’t get cheeky,” Lucy warned him. “In this industry, my list of favorites rotates quite quickly.”
Blake laughed. “That’s true in mine as well.”
He had flown to Auckland yesterday mainly for today’s shoot, but RugNZ wanted to start including him in more management meetings in preparation for his captaincy. It had become a new kind of reality when he entered the conference room yesterday with management, the coaches, and his two
teammates who’d be serving as vice-captains. Large windows dominated the room and overlooked the training fields where the National Teams practiced. He had walked towards the view and realized that in all the years he had spent practicing on the pitch, he had never once looked up.
Six years after he was first called up to represent his country, he still felt chills when he walked into the sheds and saw the famous black jersey waiting for him to change into. Not being on the last tour hurt, especially given that it had been Mano’s last. It was the first time he had missed one. The invitation to sit at the table today was confirmation that his contributions to the team continued. It also underscored the greater responsibilities that he was about to inherit.
He knew he was ready to move forward, not just professionally but personally. The time away from the game reaffirmed his desire to go on competing, but after spending time with Neela, the sport was no longer the first thing on his mind.
Apparently, his relationship with Neela was also something Andrew thought about.
“Why aren’t you meeting her at the airport?” his brother had asked while they were dining out last night.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? I thought you said she’d have to be in Auckland for a few days for a physical.”
Blake frowned at the incredulity in Andrew’s voice. “Yes. That’s standard. Why are you so uptight about this?”
“You just told me you like this girl.”
Blake wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I do. A lot. More than like, even.”
“Oh?”
“But I can’t push it. I don’t want to come on strong, Andrew. You saw how she reacted to my kiss at Mum and Dad’s. Right now, she just wants us to be friends.”
“Okay. Let’s go with that, then. Don’t friends pick up friends after they’ve been trampled on the ground?”
“Yeah, but...”
“Do you have anything planned tomorrow?”
“Just the photo shoot in the morning.”
“Pick her up. Use my car, if you like. Does she have a place to stay in Auckland?”
“Management usually has something lined up.”
“I have the extra room.”
Blake frowned and crossed his arms. “Okay, now you’re not being you. You don’t like to share. What’s going on?”
Andrew continued to eat, picking through his salad. “There’s something about seeing you with her that appeals to me. When you’re with her, you’re happy. Not the publicity type of happy, but something quite genuine. And remember, I was sharing a room with you when Neela first came into your life. You were a goner then. What makes you think it’s any different now?”
“I was ten then. I’d like to think I’ve matured since then.”
“Who’s to say what you felt at ten isn’t just as real as it is now?”
“Come on, Andrew.”
“Well, I’m just glad we’re no longer roommates. It was Neela-this, Neela-that for two whole bloody years. Worst years of my life. When she stopped paying attention to you, you cried for days.”
“I did not.”
“At least five nights.”
“Shut up.”
Andrew waved his fork. “Pick her up. You’ll figure it out. You always do. That’s one thing I’ve always admired about you: you’re a problem solver. You identify the obstacle, find a way to overcome it and move forward. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Do you mean that? There’s something you admire about me?”
Andrew put his fork down and pressed his hands together as if in prayer. He brought the tips of his fingers to his lips, and his face was thoughtful. “There are a lot of things I admire about you. I’m not saying that as a brother, but as a man.”
The brothers stared at each other.
“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” Blake asked.
“Yeah. Grow up. Go to the airport and show her what it’s like to be loved by a Stanton man.”
* * *
Neela peered out her window as the clouds parted to reveal her first glimpse of New Zealand. Mel was giggling in the seat behind her, while next to her, Leila continued to work on lesson plans for the new school year.
Neela picked up her phone again, now in-flight mode, and checked the last message she’d received before she boarded the flight.
Blake: I’ll see you at the airport. Lunch?
She had meant to tell him not to bother, but the truth was, she wanted to see him.
Her screensaver came back on. A new one, courtesy of Leila, who had sent the same picture of Blake’s flowers into Twittersphere. By the time they’d boarded the flight to go home, it had five hundred likes.
When the plane’s wheels touched ground in Auckland, a sudden charge of excitement flowed through Neela’s body. Her heart started beating faster, and she had a sudden desire to giggle.
It had been two weeks since Boxing Day. Two weeks of making excuses not to see Blake. Their fourth “date” at Mitch and Liana’s had been harder than she’d expected.
Instead of being less aware of him in a crowd, she’d unconsciously sought him out. It was the most relaxed she had ever seen him. He was at home with the Molloy and Dane families. She’d watched him play tag with Jayne and Lulu, tie Fred Dane’s shoelaces and burp six-month-old Eli Dane.
She had been nervous about her Christmas present for him. What did you get someone who could buy anything? Fortunately, Karen had come through when she’d casually mentioned she had found some old Playbills from her time in London, among which were half a dozen musicals whose songs were on Blake’s playlist.
His surprised expression on seeing the framed collection was something she would always remember, as would the unexpected caress on her cheek, the softest of touches from the roughest of hands.
He had wanted to kiss her then.
And if he had, she wouldn’t have stopped him.
But he didn’t.
Because he promised her he wouldn’t.
She’d left the Molloys’ more confused than ever, trying to regain control of her emotions. She’d stayed away in the weeks that followed: training, extra time at her job, anything to distract her from the feelings that were building inside her. It was safer that way. Can’t trust feelings.
He didn’t try to change her mind. Instead, he’d ring in the morning— “just to say hi”—or send her a funny .gif image in the middle of the day.
Then there were flowers at the hospital.
And now he was waiting for her in the Arrival Hall.
No one had ever welcomed her home before.
The phone buzzed, and she tapped on the screen eagerly. But the name that appeared immediately extinguished her excitement at seeing Blake.
Kyle: Tonight. 8. At Jack Henry’s.
“Hey, are you all right?” Leila asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
Neela blinked. “Er... yeah. Just loads on my mind.”
She frowned at her phone one more time. She’d prompted this, but it had taken him a week to reply.
Now or never, Neela. Let’s end this.
She took a deep breath and replied.
Neela: OK.
“You sure you’re all right?” Leila asked. “You looked excited a few seconds ago. Now you look like you’re going to throw up. Shall I get Steve? Or Lars?”
Neela edged out of her seat and reached up to the overhead bin. “I’m feeling fine. Honest. I sort of realized how many things I need to deal with now that we’re home.”
Leila scrunched up her nose. “Don’t remind me.”
When the team emerged into the Arrival Hall, Neela scanned the large crowd and spotted Blake immediately. His turquoise shirt with the snake motif wrapped around the sleeves would have drawn anyone’s attention.
Faces and phones were all directed at him. He ignored the attention, instead engrossed in a conversation with someone she thought was a teammate’s latest boyfriend. A young girl interrupted the two men. Blake indulged the
request for a photo and signed the back of the young fan’s shirt. He stood up as soon as he saw Neela, smiled widely and held up a closed fist. Slowly, uncurling his fist one finger at a time, he revealed a Choc Cherry.
Leila came up to next to her and whispered, “Smile any wider, and all your teeth will fall out, Neela Smyth.”
“Shut up.” Neela walked toward Blake, aware that eyes and cameras followed her.
“Hiya,” she said. “I hope there’s more to lunch than a Choc Cherry?”
Blake leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Neela was ready for it this time, but expecting the kiss didn’t stop her instant response to Blake’s body, now pressed against her as he followed the kiss with a hug. She was stunned for a moment but gave in to the warmth and security she felt in his embrace. She hid her head against his neck for a moment before gently pushing back.
“No worries. I’ve got it covered. As we speak, the famous Stanton marinara sauce awaits,” Blake said. Then he studied Neela’s face intently. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded. “You look good.”
“I have a black eye.”
Blake’s dimple appeared. “You were working. Part of what we do. Nothing wrong with that.” He looked past her but kept his arm around her waist. “Good series, Leila. Welcome back.”
Leila smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. Are you whisking her off?”
“I hope so. You flying straight home?”
Leila nodded. “After tea with Mum and Dad. You take care of her, Blake. She had a good knock.”
“Saw it happen, and I will.” He reached for Neela’s bag.
“That’s all right. I’ve got it,” Neela said as she reached down for the handles.
Blake swiftly switched the bag to the hand farther away from Neela and began to walk. “My pleasure. Besides, what kind of boyfriend lets his injured girlfriend carry her own bags? And before you tell me it’s chauvinistic for me to try to carry your bag, I’ll have you know I would have done the same for any of the brothers.”
“I’m not injured.”
Blake stopped suddenly, causing her to bump into him. He held her upper arm as she regained her balance.
“I’ve got it, Neela.” He gave her arm a gentle squeeze that sent tingles down her arm. “Let me help you. Okay?”
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