Page 94 of Third Time’s a Charm

“I love you, too. And you didn’t let me down. Not really. I couldn’t see it at the time, but you were trying to protect me, to make things right. And even though you don’t need to, you make up for it every day.”

His lips meet mine. Teasing, gentle and tasting of strawberries and wine and salt. I’m losing myself again, until he freezes.

“Did you hear—”

“What was that noi—”

Together we roll to the edge of the high bed and gaze over the side to where Jasper had placed the remains of the charcuterie board on the floor.

Four round, dark eyes peer up at us from fuzzy grey, pointed faces. Crackers sticking out of their mouths. A thud from the other room draws our attention, and another kangaroo hops through the door, edging up to the board and helping himself to a grape without the slightest fear.

“Did we leave the door—” Jasper whispers, as though scared to frighten the animals.

“We’d better get them out before—” I haven’t even finished the sentence when the smallest of the animals lifts its tail and a pile of poo drops to the hardwood floor.

That’s it for me. I fall back to the mattress, laughing hysterically.

Jasper chuckles silently, rolls off the other side of the bed, and pulls on the boxer briefs he finds on the floor.

“I don’t want to scare them,” he continues to whisper.

“Pretty sure they’re not bothered by us.”

“Still, I don’t like the look of those claws.” Can’t say I blame him. Kangaroo claws are wicked sharp, and boxer briefs don’t offer much in the way of protection. But these guys look pretty peaceable.

Climbing back over the bed, he edges around behind them, clapping quietly.

“Come on, fellas. Supper’s over. Out you go.” Between quiet claps, he makes a brushing motion, which the kangaroos grudgingly obey, hopping quietly out the door and onto the deck, where the firepit has burnt down to glowing embers.

I follow, and while Jasper secures the door behind our guests, I find a dustpan and brush. Luckily, kangaroo poo is solid enough that I can sweep it up and toss it outside. I disinfect the area, and Jasper brings the shambles of the board to the kitchen bench.

I’m stowing the cleaning products back under the sink when he clears his throat, lifting a laminated sheet from the counter, turning it to face me.

Don’t leave the door open and unattended. Kangaroos are sometimes a little too friendly.

“Oops.” I grin.

Minutes later we’ve washed up and are snuggled back under the covers.

Jasper’s fingers trail up and down my arm.

“Only in Australia could a romantic moment be interrupted by kangaroos,” I say, pressing my lips to his chest.

He laughs.

“True. But those guys have given me an idea.”

“Go on.” I can’t imagine where he’s going with this.

“Did you notice there were three of them?” he says, seemingly from nowhere.

“I tried to ignore that.”

“And they were kind of charming, in an un-toilet-trained kind of way.”

That makes me laugh. “They were.”

“Things seem to happen to us in threes quite a lot, don’t they?”