Her family gasps softly and her mother says her name sharply.
“I’ve started freelancing, using a lot of the skills I learned with the Harpers. I’ve been running their accounts for years and I’mpretty good at it. Between that and the work I’ve done for the sanctuary, I’ve built a small portfolio and once I get settled, I’ll start pitching clients. Until then, I have my savings from Grannie. It’s really fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.” She doesn’t say it, but I hear the ghost of the words “Or approval” and I silently cheer her on.
“Isn’t freelancing pretty unreliable?” Her mother frowns. I take another sip of my wine. It’s hard listening to people shit all over Junie’s ideas and bite my tongue. She’s brilliant and brave and she’s going after what she wants. Can’t they see that?
“If anyone can do it, Junie can,” I say, then shove another bite of salmon in my mouth.
“Thank you.” She throws me a brief smile, then turns back to her parents. “It doesn’t have to be,” she quips, stabbing a piece of steak a little harder than necessary. “It will probably be a slow start, but it’s what I want. It makes the most sense with the move. Grandma Frannie would’ve loved it.”
This is it. My fingers still on the wine stem, my breath catches in my throat as I wait for it.
“You’re moving?” Lisa says, her voice sinister.
“Yes, to Gili Telu. With Steven. He’s here to help me move.” Her smile is like a beam of sunshine before she turns back to face her family. “And to meet everyone. I’ve gotta say, you’re sure making a great impression.”
The rest of the dinner is a blur of commotion. The quiet from earlier seems like an entirely different house. Her family is loud and opinionated, offering everything from criticism to advice. Many questions are raised without seeming to wait for or expect an answer.
I know I’m not saying much, but I just don’t know what my role is here. Words have never been my strong suit, and Junie is defending herself beautifully. As overbearing as it feels to me, her family clearly loves her. Even her sister, for all her coldness, seems genuinely concerned. I’m exhausted by the crosstalk and long for the hammock outside my bungalow. I wonder distantly what time it is in the Gilis and who Mike is having sundowners with now that I’m out of town.
I’m starting to feel like coming here was a really bad idea. She may find it stifling now, but this is all she’s ever known and I clearly don’t fit here. How can she walk away from all these people who care about her to take a chance on an Aussie arsehole who’s more fish than man at this point?
After what seems like an eternity, their clipped voices calm down and the volley of questions and accusations seem to soften. Junie is clutching my hand beneath the table like a lifeline and the ease in tension is visible in her body.
“I’m sorry, Steven. My family is very opinionated, as you can see,” she says, loud enough for them all to hear.
“Gosh, but aren’t we being rude? You came all the way here to visit and we’re neglecting our guest.”
“No ma’am,” I say. “Not a problem at all. I know Junie hasn’t been home in a while and you have a lot to catch up on. For what it’s worth, I think she’s amazing. And your food is pretty incredible too. Thank you.”
That seems to mollify her. There’s a twinkle in her eye as she presses her lips together and returns to her plate. Mine and Scott’s are scraped clean while the women seem too riled up to eat. I finally know where she gets her fiery spirit from.
“So,” her father coughs uncomfortably, drawing all eyes at the table to his. “Turtles, huh? I’d like to hear more about that. You ever play darts?”
Chapter 27
Junie
After the fiasco of dinner with my parents, I wouldn’t blame Steven for running hard in the other direction. What kind of adult lets herself get steamrolled like that? I’m grateful for his steady presence on the ride home and the warmth of his big arms in bed that night.
I spend several days making lists and organizing my life down to the final detail. There are notebooks, planners, post-its, and highlighters scattered across the coffee table. Steven keeps me fueled with caffeine and snacks and I pretend not to notice how much he loves the French press. I thought driving on the right side of the road would be a challenge for him, but like with everything else, he’s competent and unflappable. He comes back from the grocery store loaded up with pure junk food splendor.
“I’ve heard so many things about Flamin’ Hot Cheetos,” he says, holding up a giant orange bag.
“Do they not have those in Indonesia?” I ask with a smile.
“Nor in Aus. At least not ones that taste like these.” He rips open the bag and pops a few in his mouth, eyebrows shooting up with pleasure.
I laugh and peek through his other purchases before opening a bag of my favorite sour cream and cheddar chips I hadn’t been able to find overseas.
“What’s your favorite treat from back home then?” I ask, enjoying the satisfying crunch of a chip before offering them to Steven.
“Tim Tams,” he says with no hesitation. “And I’d kill for a good meat pie from the bakery near my parent’s house. It’s been too long. These are good.” He nods toward my chips before grabbing another handful.
“You know”—Steven frowns slightly, moving closer to me on the couch, his eyes falling over my many to-do lists—“there are a lot of things you might be used to that you won’t be able to find in Indonesia. It’s not just drinkable tap water and crisp flavors.”
“I know,” I shrug, pointing to the list of items I want to stock up on, especially toiletries like pads, Pepto Bismol, and my usual brand of roll-on deodorant. “I’ll never understand the appeal of spraying your armpits. I could only find aerosol cans in Bali.”
“It looks like you’ve really thought of everything,” he says, taking in my copious notes, but he still seems worried. “I just remember what it was like to have that culture shock at first. It seems like you’ve got a lot of people here who really care about you. Won’t it be hard to be far away from all that?”
