Lovewrecked - Karina Halle Page 0,25

on Tai’s private dock, surrounded by Lacey, Richard, and mounds of bags, luggage, supplies and food, staring at the boat we’re supposed to do an ocean passage in, the Atarangi.

It’s small.

I know Tai said it was forty-two feet or something but for some reason it looks a lot smaller and older than I had imagined. My ex-boyfriend’s yacht had to have been at least twice the size, and new. Then again, it belonged to his money-bags father who made a fortune in Apple stock.

“How quaint,” my mother comments from behind me. “It’s…vintage.”

We have a small crowd sending us off this early morning. There’re my parents, Richard’s mom Edith (a carbon copy of him down to the glasses), and the Wakefields are here too, which surprises me considering this is something that Tai must do quite often.

“Don’t be fooled by her age,” Tai shouts at my mother from the cockpit. “She’s perfect for blue water sailing. You don’t get many ocean-worthy boats like this these days.”

Well, that’s a little reassuring.

And at least it’s a calm, clear morning, no red sky in sight (or however that sailor’s proverb goes). It’s just after dawn and the sun is slowly rising up over Tai’s place behind us, a small three-room house that he’s referred to a few times as a bach from the 50’s, whatever that means. All I know is that it’s just as retro chic as the boat, and has a stunning location on a private bay, surrounded by deep brush.

We woke up this morning when it was still dark out and I got a ride in the Wakefield’s car with Edith, while my parents took the newlyweds. I managed to get my new flight sorted out last night, with only a minor change fee.

Of course, my travel gear was never meant to go anywhere other than the trunk of a car or the belly of an airplane.

And Tai has decided this morning’s scorn isn’t devoted to the fact that there are four people’s worth of supplies to haul aboard, but is instead focused on my two shiny suitcases.

“Well, shit,” he grumbles, giving me a dirty look. “You couldn’t have given one of those suitcases to your parents to bring back for you?”

“I need my stuff!” I protest, already feeling vulnerable.

“We offered,” my father says, hands raised in a mea culpa.

It’s true. My parents offered to take the big suitcase back to the US, and I’m sure it would have been smart of me to send it off with them. But there’s stuff in there I need, like snacks I brought from home, bottles of wine, New Zealand kiwi chocolate (so good), and clothes of all sorts. I mean, who knows what kind of weather we’ll have out there.

Lacey does one of her patented eye rolls. “Great. Now the boat will probably sink from the extra weight.”

I glare back at her. “Doesn’t matter. The suitcases are waterproof. My stuff will stay dry even if we do sink.”

“Ah, perhaps this isn’t the best talk before we say goodbye,” Mrs. Wakefield says nervously.

I turn and give her a quick smile. “Sorry. I’m sure we’ll be fine. We’re in your son’s capable hands.”

The last part wasn’t sarcastic, but even so, I can hear Tai scoff.

And so the goodbyes commence.

I have to admit, I’m tearing up as I say goodbye to my parents. It’s not that I don’t think I’ll see them again, of course I will, but I haven’t had this much quality time with them since…well, ever. Even when I’ve come home for Christmas and Easter, it feels like a formality. Like something I’m supposed to do, and I’ve always gotten the impression that they’ve felt the same way. Like God is ordering them to have me over, rather than me being someone they want to see.

And these last few days have been about getting to know these new versions of my parents, as an adult, the versions that they become when they aren’t at home, surrounded by a million damn apples.

Then it’s time for us to set sail.

The cockpit is rather small but there’s enough space for all of us, with Tai behind the wheel. The lines are tossed, Richard running around and putting them all in their proper places, and the motor is turned on to a hearty purr, and then we’re pulling away from the dock.

The small crowd of our loved ones on the dock wave at us and we wave back as the boat makes its way out of the