Kai caught sight of my expression and choked on a laugh. “You don’t like it.”
“It tastes like a melted marshmallow had an identity crisis,” I whispered.
Tane slapped the table and guffawed. “She hates it! Oh, this is so good.”
Kai nudged my knee under the table with his. “It’s alright. More for us.”
He and Tane immediately shoveled in another round of bites like feral hyenas who had been deprived of their homeland’s sacred dessert for too long. I stared at them like they were two fries short of a Happy Meal.
Finally, Tane wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed happily. “This was so good, honestly. I haven’t had a pavlova this close to the real thing in ages.”
I forced down another tiny forkful just to be polite. It was still terrible, and its excessive sugar was still trying to kill me.
I didn’t know what was worse — the fact that they liked it or the fact that I’d made it.
Tane pointed his fork at me as though I were a witness in a courtroom.
“So. Has he given you the sales pitch yet?”
Kai groaned into his hands. “Uncle, for the love of God—”
“About Australia.” Tane continued, ignoring him entirely. “Where the beaches are ridiculous, the food’s good, and the people walk around barefoot because apparently flip-flops count as formal footwear.”
“They do if they’re clean.”
“Exactly my point.”
Kai lifted his head, squinting. “Mate, you’re acting like New Zealand is some enlightened paradise.”
Tane sniffed. “We’ve got mountains.”
“You keep saying that like mountains solve everything.”
“They do, actually.” Tane took another bite of pavlova. “They’re peaceful and quiet.”
“Yeah, right. Because that’s what Australia is lacking — huge areas where you can find peace and quiet.” Kai scoffed.
“No reptiles sneaking into your shoes.”
Kai pointed at him. “You act like Australia is out here hunting tourists. That’s just Queensland.”
“Please,” Tane retorted, waving a hand. “Your entire country is a warning label.”
“And yours,” Kai shot back, “has more sheep than people.”
Tane straightened up with indignation. “Majesticsheep.With culture.”
I choked on my water, and Kai looked vindicated.
“And another thing,” Tane added, jabbing his fork for emphasis, “Australians argue about football codes like it’s a religion.”
Kai gasped. “We do not—”
“You do,” Tane countered. “Rugby union versus rugby league. Don’t roll your eyes, boy. You all act like choosing the wrong one is treason.”
Kai threw his hands up. “Says the man whose entire nation will fistfight over which island is better!”
“That’s geography,” Tane explained calmly. “At least our sports don’t spark existential crises.”
