“E Ihowa Atua. O ngā iwi mātou rā. Āta whakarangona. Me aroha noa.”

“Melly, we don’t have to yell.” Delaney puts her finger to her lips.

But saying that has the opposite effect as Amelia takes a deep breath.

“Kia hua ko te pai. Kia tau tō atawhai. Manaakitia mai.”

She turns to me. “Aotearoa.”

I smile at her before turning to look at Delaney’s bemused expression. And despite the little girl to my left now belting out the English words of the anthem, I can’t take my eyes off her mother. She’s so quiet in Amelia’s wake, but she sings the words soft and low.

I’m already under her spell again, and she has no idea.

But her hand in mine leaves me thinking she’s feeling the same way.

* * *

Watching the game is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

But that’s not because I’m watching the screen.

Delaney tries to explain the rules as they play, but Amelia roars every time a try is scored, and yelps with every kick. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

She’s in my face for the whole eighty minutes, but I don’t mind at all. I’d much rather watch her.

My daughter.

I loved Delaney when we were together, and I know we can grow that love again. But I’m also head over heels in love with my little girl.

Her dark curls fly as she jumps up and down in excitement, and she really does have an insane amount of energy for the entire game.

“She’ll crash when this is over.” Delaney smiles at me.

“I’m not surprised.” I laugh.

“Not long to go,” Delaney murmurs.

I spend the last few minutes, watching the clock, all the while knowing that as it ticks down, my time with these two is running out. It’s just one night, and there’ll be others, but every second I get with them is precious.

The final whistle blows.

“The All Blacks won.” Amelia’s eyes are wide, and her smile is the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen. This is my little girl.

“I saw, sweetheart.”

She claps, wiggling her hips in an exuberant dance.

“Maybe if you’re here in summer, she can introduce you to cricket,” Delaney says.

“Cricket?”

“We love cricket, Josh. I play at school.”

“Do you?”

Amelia rolls her eyes. “But it takes so long.”

Delaney shakes her head. “You have no idea. Your school games are so short.”

“How long does it usually take?” I ask.

“Depends on the format, but the international games can last five days.”

“Five days?” I gawp at her. “Why so long? How do they play that it takes five days?”

“They play slowly.”

I narrow my eyes at her until she breaks into a laugh. “Stop teasing me. You know I’m going to look this up.”