Page 9 of Insta [FAM]

MIKA

“Make me…”

I shake my head, annoyed that I’m even looking at her response for the millionth time. It’s as if she’s determined to bring out my inner asshole. Don’t even get me started on her latest post about the shelter, and how I forced her to take that bunny. I wrap a towel around my waist and dry my hair before tying it up in a bun. Once I’ve dried myself off, I change into a pair of sweatpants, and a t-shirt, and head downstairs to where Nyree is making dinner. Aroha is sitting at the kitchen island, and from the way she’s laughing, their conversation seems quite animated. Nyree snickers, and when she sees me, her eyes go wide. “Aroha, why don’t you put a movie on in the living room, dinner’s almost ready.”

Aroha twists, and hops off the chair, and replies, “Okay.” She stops short when she sees me and looks back at Nyree. “Should we tell Papa that he’s the most irritable vet first?”

Nyree loses her composure and laughs until her eyes grow wet. She fans her face and blows out a breath. “It’s eligible, baby, not irritable.”

Aroha plants her hands on her hips. “I’m pretty sure it said irritable, Aunt Nyree.” She shrugs both her shoulders. “But okay.” She walks to where I’m standing, hugs my legs, and looks up. “You’ll be aw-right, Papa. You not that irritable, I think.”

Then she’s gone, making a beeline for the couch, and the television remote.

“What was that about?” I ask, scratching my beard. “Most irritable vet?”

That’s a new one.

Nyree snorts and stops making her salad. “It’s actually the most eligible vet, according to the harpies who’ve commented on that crazy woman’s posts. Have you seen the newest one? It’s quite entertaining.”

I groan and walk to the fridge. I need a damn beer. It’s been a long day, and I’m not in the mood for more of Dion’s running commentary. She’s walking a fine line as it is. “Don’t even tell me,” I tell Nyree. “And please keep Aroha away from that kind of stuff, yeah? We can’t have a repeat of last time.”

Nyree catches my meaning real fast, and her easy-going smile wanes. “She grabbed my phone and started playing a game, I didn’t think the kid knew how to open Instagram, Mikaere.”

I give her a side-hug. “All I’m asking is that you be careful, Ny. I have to keep her safe.”

Nyree pushes the salad bowl aside and grabs a beer for herself. Leaning against the counter, she lowers her voice, and asks, “You haven’t heard anything from Layla, have you?”

“Not since her attorney contacted mine eighteen months ago demanding I give her money because she couldn’t find a job.” The topic of Aroha’s mother always leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, and I try not to talk about her if I can help it.

“Well, after that media shitstorm she caused, I’m not surprised. She publicly attacked one of New Zealand’s most beloved players, who happens to come from one of New Zealand’s most beloved rugby families.” I hate thinking about that time, and what it did to my family, but it’s over. Layla was just after my money at the time, even though she waived all parental rights when Aroha was two weeks old, and we were still living in New Zealand. When her attorney last reached out, he mentioned Layla was back in the States, living with her sister, and when he requested I give her financial assistance, I was quick to shut it down.

“Yeah, which is why I don’t want Aroha looking at any kind of social media. Layla doesn’t know where we live, and I want to keep it that way as long as I can.”

“I’m sure that bunny woman isn’t helping matters,” she snickers. “And you actually like her.”

I give her the side-eye. I filled her in the night before once Aroha had gone to bed, and the idea that I might like someone, even if she’s a bit of a nut, was cause for much laughter and teasing.

“What?” she asks, taking a sip of her beer. “You do like her.”

I open my mouth to argue, I think, or maybe to agree, but the oven timer goes off, and I’m saved from having to think about how to answer her statement. I was the one who told her I liked Dion but couldn’t understand why. I still don’t. My feelings around that woman are just plain confusing.

“Aroha,” Nyree calls. “Wash your hands please, baby. Dinner’s ready.”

“Smells good,” I tell Nyree, setting plates on the kitchen island. “I’m starving.”

Nyree laughs. “You’re always hungry, tuakana, you’ve been eating for, like, five people since you turned sixteen.”

“How would you know? You were still in nappies when I was sixteen.”

Nyree came along when I was fourteen, and because I’d already hit puberty, it grossed me the hell out knowing my parents had sex. Granted, that’s how I came to be here, too, but still. I was fucking traumatized for the duration of Mum’s pregnancy, and then Nyree was born, and I vowed to be the best big brother I could. She’s still alive, doesn’t do drugs, and is getting her degree online, so I guess I didn’t totally fail. And she’s been amazing to have around, Aroha adores her, and I know Nyree feels the same. Aside from Mum, Nyree helped me the most when Aroha was born, and did a lot to reassure me that I wasn’t an epic failure as a dad. Some days, I still feel like I’m falling short, but I guess that’s parenthood, and if I had to do it all over again just to have Aroha, I would. It’s after I’ve put Aroha to bed that I make the fatal mistake of watching Dion’s latest post on Instagram and going back to the DM I sent her the day before. I’m so fucking tempted to respond, but without anything to say, I close the app, and hope like hell she’ll tire of this nonsense and move on to terrorizing some other poor unsuspecting bloke.

* * *

My private veterinary practice is in Dobbs Ferry. I bought it from the previous owner when he was ready to retire, and employed three other veterinarians to assist me. It’s the only veterinary hospital in New York’s Westchester County, so we’re always busy. This morning, however, is different. I open the back door to the hospital, and our receptionist, Abby, is trying to create some order in what is an overflowing waiting room.

“Abby.”

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes, hurrying from behind the reception area. “We have people lined up outside, around the block. I don’t know what’s going on.” It’s not even nine in the morning, and she already looks beat.