“Boring Bay,” he muses, taking in the wide green field rolling down to the beach.

“Bland Bay,” I correct him and get out of the bus.

The screen door to the house swings open and my uncle Robbie comes out with his pit bull, Barker, at his side. My uncle looks as he always does—red baseball cap, hefty gut, barefoot. I have honestly never seen him in shoes.

“Kia ora, Gem!” he greets me, pulling me into a hearty embrace. He smells like lime and beer and aftershave, his usual combination. Barker sits at my feet and whines for me to pet him.

I do so, scratching the soft spots behind Barker’s floppy ears, and say, “Hey Uncle Robbie. Look what I brought with me; Mr. Orange and Mr. Josh Miles.”

My uncle fixes his twinkling eyes on Josh and goes over to him for a hug. “Kia ora, Josh Miles.”

“Kia ora, Mr. Uncle Robbie,” Josh says amiably as he’s squeezed into a bear hug.

Uncle Robbie pulls back to assess him and then slaps him hard on the back. “Aye, you’re a good mate.” Then he goes to Mr. Orange and for a moment I think he’s going to hug the bus but he just pounds his fist against a front tire. “Still in one piece.”

I exchange a look with Josh. He won’t be able to tell the window was replaced, and I really hope he doesn’t notice the lack of porn because that conversation would be embarrassing.

“Gemma!”

I turn around to see Auntie Shelley coming out of the house, wearing one of her signature long sarongs, her curly black hair blowing in the wind. She’s always had this ageless quality about her, and her cheeks have this rosy, freshly scrubbed look.

She hugs me and tells me she missed me, even though I just saw her in November to get Mr. Orange. She looks over my shoulder at Josh, who is talking to Uncle Robbie about Mr. Orange.

I quickly introduce them and Auntie Shelley gives him a warm if less boisterous greeting than Uncle Robbie did.

“How are you liking the winterless north?” she asks him.

“Winterless north?” Josh repeats.

“It’s a right lie,” Uncle Robbie says. “In the winter it will piss buckets for weeks on end.”

Auntie Shelley narrows her eyes at his language. She’s always been a bit of a prude, a bit churchy and proper, while her husband is the complete opposite. But somehow it works.

We’re ushered inside and there’s my grandpa sitting down on his recliner, watching the telly. I have a rush of trepidation as we stand in the TV room, wondering if he’ll like Josh. My grandfather is lovely as all out, but he can be a bit hard to please, and for some reason I really want his approval. He’s like the last test Josh has to pass before he’s really welcomed into the Henare family.

And then what? I think to myself. I tell my inner voice to shut up.

“Pops,” I say to him, and he slowly swivels around in his chair to face us. He’s not quite Dr. Evil and he’s not stroking a cat, but he’s got to be an intimidating sight for Josh. For one, he’s not smiling, and he’s a tall, massive man. His long gray hair is pulled off his weathered face into a ponytail and his eyes shine with suspicion. Two, he’s got the Maori tā moko tribal tattoos snaking up his neck and onto the sides of his face, making him look a bit primal.

Then again, Josh has ink everywhere.

“This is Josh,” I tell him, and my grandfather stares at him for a beat that seems to go on and on.

Josh stands his ground. “Mr. Henare.” He gives him a firm nod and then sticks out his hand.

My grandfather eyes his hand, eyes Josh, eyes his tattoos, and then looks at me. I can only smile.

“This your boy?” he asks me in a gruff voice.

Josh looks at me and I can tell he’s on edge; his hand starts to shake a little. I’m not sure how fast the news of Josh and I being “together” spread through the family, but apparently it was fast enough.

So I smile and nod. “Yes, he’s my boy.”

Well, man. Very much a man. But I keep those thoughts to myself. I’m getting a bit flushed.

“And he treats you well?”

“He treats me far better than I deserve, Pops,” I say honestly. If only he knew.

“All right then,” he says and he rises powerfully out of the chair. He may have a bad knee, but his moments are so fluid you can barely tell he’s limping.

He grabs hold of Josh’s hand and pulls him toward him to do the hongi. They are both the exact same height and Josh holds his own as my grandfather presses his nose and forehead against his. They shake. My grandfather smiles. “We’re not always so formal with each other like this but welcome to the whānau.”

Josh smiles back. He’s learned by now that whānau means family.

Pops breaks away and looks at me. “He seems like a good egg,” he says. He appraises Josh. “So how have you been enjoying New Zealand? You showing her her own country and all that?”

“Well, actually,” Josh muses with a cheeky grin, “she’s been showing me.”

“Aye, Gemma’s calling the shots again, is she,” my grandfather says and goes to sit back down. “Pushy little thing.”

“Hey,” I protest, throwing an arm out to Josh. “You try taking him and my cousin around the islands. Talk about indecisive. If it wasn’t for me calling the shots, we would’ve been going around circles in Auckland this whole time.”

Josh laughs. “It’s true. I’m just along for the ride. And I’ve been loving it.” He gives me a knowing look. “And I managed to get her to go dolphin swimming and jump out of an airplane.”