Narrowing my eyes in confusion, I ask the pressing question. “Pineapples?”
“Not pineapples. Just one giant pineapple. Queensland is known for The Big Pineapple, and if that isn’t a sign of good luck then I don’t know what is.”
My gaze clouds as I try to put my thoughts together to ensure my words come out right.
“So, let me get this straight. You’re happy to move to another country, leave your work and friends behind to live near a giant pineapple?”
“Yes.” She grins, practically bursting at the seams with elation. “You call that a knife? This is a knife!”
I burst out laughing at Zoey’s pathetic attempt to put on an Aussie accent and quote from Crocodile Dundee.
“I love you, you crazy fool.”
She joins in laughing along with me. “You too, mate.”
Zoey Richards has always given me everything I’ve wanted in life, and in the space of a few minutes she’s managed to make another dream a reality.
To new beginnings.
A fresh start.
And a lifetime of memories.
Someone up above blessed me with the best sidekick ever.
Epilogue
Zoey
There was this book I read a long time ago, a book which gave me the biggest book hangover ever. It was impossible to put down, the plot so engrossing I couldn’t stop reading it into the early hours of the morning and paying dearly for it the next day when I dozed off in an important meeting at work, and my then boss had to wake me up.
The heroine fell pregnant to her ex-fiancé who happened to be cheating on her with his personal assistant. She then met this new guy, a handsome billionaire who swept her off her feet and was willing to be the new baby daddy.
It was the messiest of love triangles, yet the thing I remembered the most was not so much the love triangle but the ability of the heroine to get dressed up, go on date-nights and manage to get a full night’s rest after she gave birth to her daughter.
Oh, and she was a single parent.
This book—still engrained in my memory—is the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever read. I only realized that today when I saw it come up on my Kindle.
Dressed up? Ha! I only manage to get a pair of jeans and blouse on today, but the overbearing stench of baby vomit is lingering. Yes, Oliver decided that puking on me after I got out of my PJs at midday would be a great idea.
Date night—interesting memory. Drew and I can barely sit down to eat a meal together. Mom offers to watch the babies, and the more we plan it, the more it becomes so difficult we give up. We are all about routines these days because it’s the only thing that keeps our sanity in check.
As for sleep. What is sleep? The bags under my eyes are a permanent fixture. My hair has fallen out in clumps which Drew said is normal. Fine for him to say that—he isn’t balding at a rapid rate like I am.
The boys are six weeks old now and wake up every five hours. It means from midnight to five o’clock is my best chance to catch some sleep, and the last thing on my mind is anything else.
Okay, a small white lie. Something happened to me after a week of coming home from the hospital. My hormones did a complete one-eighty, and I desperately needed my husband to entertain me sexually. I didn’t see it coming. I felt like a fat mess with breasts leaking milk, and not showering twice a day like I usually do.
I had never felt so unattractive in my entire life.
“Why am I so horny?” I blurt out while brushing my teeth. “I feel like jumping you right now, but the nurses say six weeks. How set in stone is that?”
Drew is dressed in only his sweat pants. It’s impossible to ignore the large bulge standing stiff beneath them. He leaned on the basin for support, bowing his head as if in pain.
“Babe, there are medical reasons behind it. Would you please stop talking about it… I’m dying here. I think I have blue balls.”
I hold in my laughter and run the tips of my fingers against his back. “So, I’m out of order, but I guess my mouth isn’t.”