“You’re right, a zoo isn’t. But I meant Australia. Koalas belong here, and this particular koala is here because of a special program to prevent them from becoming extinct. He’s here because he’s protected.”
“I think Honey would really love a koala friend.”
“Well, perhaps we can send her a postcard. Story can help you pick one out.”
My son makes it clear he’s not particularly happy with that response, but if he had his way, we’d be living in an animal sanctuary along with every breed under the sun. And all to keep Honey company, of course.
Honey Burlington has settled into family life like a duck to water. Even though she’s a quarter the size of Maud, Dolly, and Hamish, she’s quickly become theleader of the pack, and they follow her around wherever she goes. When Max is at school, I often spot her trotting around the gardens, followed by her posse, assessing their domain while she waits for him to return home.
She’s become a fixture on the morning drop-off and afternoon pick-up, Max seems more upset about leaving her than he does me. I spent the week before we left for Australia reminding him she couldn’t come with us.
We’ve discovered she loves broccoli, but only because Max was sneaking it off the table for her. It was the week I boasted he’d been doing so well with his vegetables. She loves balls, though she’s still too small to carry a large one. And she loves cheese, which is the only thing we can use to tempt her away from Max at bedtime without howling because, out of everything she’s seen and done, Max is who she loves the most.
And the feeling is mutual, which is why he’s on a mission to persuade me to take home any animal from Sydney’s Taronga Zoo, so Honey isn’t lonely. Before we had lunch, he wanted a kangaroo.
“Maxy”—Story holds her hands out to him—“how about we go to the zoo shop and pick out a stuffed koala for Honey, then she can take him wherever she goes, and we don’t have to worry about feeding it?”
If I wasn’t already deeply in love her, I would be now. Especially when Max looks at her like it’s the best idea he’s ever heard. He takes her hand and follows her in the direction of the shop.
I don’t even care about the smug grin she shoots my way as they walk off. Her and Max have bonded hard. Outside of school it’s them against me, especially on our Saturday morning trips to the Beanery where she insists on flapjacksandhot chocolate. Story’s sugar cravings are a bad influence on my son, and while I pretend toput up a fight, I really don’t care.
The three of us together is all I’ve ever dreamed of.
“I’ll catch you up,” I call out because however short it might be, I like to give them time by themselves.
A wave of jet lag washes over me, and I take a seat on the nearest bench I find. We’ve been in Australia for four days, and I still have no idea what time it is. A few weeks ago, Story reminded me she was returning to Sydney to pack up her apartment, so Max and I decided to accompany her. We spent two days putting things into boxes, and today is our first day visiting the city.
Since we decided to take the leap and give our relationship a go, it’s been slow. It’s been for Max’s sake, as well as ours, though he’s been surprisingly nonchalant about the whole thing, because Honey is all he cares about right now.
My family, however, has not.
Our first Friday family dinner Story was invited to, my mother held on to her hand all evening like she was scared she’d bolt at some point. Clementine sat on her other side and monopolized the entire conversation to the point where I moved up to sit with Alex and Lando because I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. By the end of the evening, it was men on one end, women on the other, and I’d barely spoken to her all night.
The next morning, my mother’s questions began, much to my older brothers’ amusement. Most of the time, I tried to zone out, but I caught the gist. When are Story and I going to settle down?
It’s a question I don’t yet have an answer for.
Truth be told, I could marry Story this afternoon and be happy for the rest of my life. But we’re in no rush. We both know this is endgame, and right nowwe’re making up for the six years we lost.
We’ve settled into a routine, which consists of date nights a couple of times a week, followed by a sleepover at Bluebell, because it’s easier for me to leave from there than for her to sneak out of Burlington. It works for us, and seeing her at the school gates after I left her in bed only hours before has become our new favorite thing. It feels sneaky and illicit, brushing fingertips or touching hands while everyone goes about their mornings.
The only thing we really care about is Max. All that matters to us is that he’s comfortable, and thankfully nothing has indicated to us otherwise.
I’m watching him now through the window of the gift shop and can see we’re taking home more than one koala. Deciding I’ve had enough on the bench, I stand up to join them, and that’s when my phone rings.
“D’you want a stuffed koala?” I ask Miles.
“Sure, why not. But I need a favor first.”
I step aside to let a couple walk past me carrying half a dozen bags each. “Okay.”
“Are you done in Australia?”
“Done? What do you mean?”
“I need you here.”
“Where’s here?”
