Kai slumped back in surrender. “It’s just a name.”
Tane raised a finger.
“Oh no. No, no. You see, Mikaere is the normal name. Perfectly respectable. But this one,” he said, jabbing a thumb at Kai, “decided he didn’t want to be called Mikaere.”
I tilted my head. “Why?”
Tane beamed. “Because he insisted on going by Kai.”
“And?”
“And,” Tane continued, savoring the moment as though it were some kind of delectable treat, “Kai literally means ‘food’ in Te Reo Maori.”
I could not breathe.
Kai covered his face. “I didn’t knowthat when I was two!”
Tane leaned forward. “We told him — repeatedly — but he can be really stubborn when he wants to.”
I stared at Kai, fighting a grin. “So your chosen nickname … is food?”
“It’s just a word.”
“Sure it is.” I giggled. “Snack.”
Tane practically howled. “Oh, that’s good.”
Kai shot straight up. “Absolutely not.”
“Snack,” I repeated, smiling sweetly.
“No.”
“Little snack pack.”
“Tori.”
“Midday meal.”
He glared. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m delighted,” I corrected him.
Tane wiped tears from his eyes. “We tried calling him ‘Kai’ at home, but every cousin and auntie kept asking, ‘Who? The kid or the leftovers?’”
Kai put his head back down on the table like he was trying to suffocate himself.
I leaned on my elbow and studied him.
“Honestly? It fits.”
He peeked up. “How?”
I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, even though my heart did a little flutter. “You’re easy to … consume.”
Both men froze and Tane’s eyebrowsshot into orbit.
Kai slow-blinked like his brain was buffering, then his mouth tugged into the slowest, cockiest, prettiest smile.
