Page 33 of Packing for Vacation

“She turned nineteen the next day.” I’d turned nineteen the following week. Two babies with a baby of their own.

Amo scrunches her nose in mild disgust. “Whatever makes you feel better. I’ve gotta get back to work.”

“Yeah, I won’t hold you up.” I dare to give her another hug, and am surprised when she kisses my cheek.

“Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Bubs. But hey,” I say, pulling a Travelling in New Zealand guidebook from the next shelf. It looks new, the pages still a crisp white, the Paper Plus price sticker on the back still perfect. “Can I get this one?”

I find a park on the street that seems to be the hub for secondhand stores. The timing is perfect; Lizzie and Scott step out of the shop across the road just as I’m locking my car.

The nerves that built up on the drive here dissipate the moment I see Lizzie running towards me. She leaps into my arms, legs hooking around my waist, and I catch her with both hands on her fucking amazing arse. “Hey, I missed you,” I tell her. She buries her face in the crook of my neck, her fingers digging into the muscle of my back, and I take her desperation to be near me as a good sign.

“Missed you too.”

“You smell amazing.” I kiss her ear. “I hear you’ve been shopping.”

“I have!” She detangles herself from me and picks up the large paper bag she’d dropped at our feet. “I got this for five dollars!”

This turns out to be a salt lamp, nestled between two thin cushions. “It works?”

“It works perfectly. Scott has the other stuff. We’re pretty much done; I just have one more store to visit.”

I look over her head and notice for the first time how many bags Scott is holding. I unlock my car again, opening the boot for him.

“Oh thank god,” he groans dramatically, shaking out his hands after dumping the bags inside next to my luggage. “I feel like my arms are gonna fall off.”

“I told you I could carry some of those!” Lizzie cries indignantly. “You said no!”

“Nah, I’m all good.” As if to prove it, he takes the bag she’s been holding, grinning at her grumbling.

“So where’s this store?”

Lizzie turns me around by my shoulders, her lips pursed, trying to hold in a laugh as she makes jazz hands in the air. “Ta-da!”

I’m parked directly in front of it.

“In my defence,” I tell her, wrapping my arm around her waist, “I was very distracted. Let’s get this over with, then.”

“Get this over with?! How romantic. You really know how to make an omega feel good about nesting,” Lizzie teases.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’ve been here for two minutes and you’re in the dog box already,” Scott jokes. Lizzie is walking ahead and misses both the way I glare at Scott and his rolled eyes in response.

Once inside I catch up to Lizzie, a sweet sort of ache settling in my chest at the way she holds out her hand for me. We take our time browsing, fingers intertwined, and I’m happy to be led by her. After all, she knows what she’s looking for, while I wouldn’t have a fucking clue.

“Oh my god, look,” she says, making a beeline for a pile of cushions atop an old leather sofa.

I grin and squeeze her hand as she drags me across the store, weaving through the rows of antique furniture and racks of secondhand clothing. The musty scents of others is strongest here, and why I was surprised that Lizzie would be willing to put thrifted items in her nest. “Taihoa, they’re not growing legs and wandering off anytime soon.”

“Sorry.” She laughs, picking up a pale blue cushion with three flying ducks on it. “But look.” She holds it in the air like a trophy. “This cushion is amazing. The ducks are appliquéd! I had these three on the wall in my room as a kid.”

“We had those in the lounge.”

“Oh really? That’s funny. I wonder if Scotty had them, too.”

Scotty. I’ve been out of the picture for a day and she’s gone and nicknamed him now?