Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
J ack tried to call Harry, but it went to message bank every time. He left messages saying he was sorry and that they needed to talk. Then, because needing to talk sounded too ominous, he left more messages saying that he was sorry and they were still good, right? Then, because that sounded too needy, he left a message asking if Harry was coming home, and if he wanted Jack to order a pizza? Then he put his phone down, because he’d just left six messages in a row like a crazy stalker.
He groaned, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, then stared at the empty TV screen for a moment, too lazy to hunt down the remote control. From his position in the living room, he could hear Tristan rattling around in the kitchen. He wished he was hearing the creak of the front door instead, and the scrape on the floor where it always jammed for a second. He wished Harry would come home.
He picked his phone up again, just in case he’d missed a text in the four seconds it had been out of his hand. He hadn’t.
Tristan was still giving him the side-eye, and Jack couldn’t blame him. When he’d explained to Tris that Harry had overheard him telling his mum that Harry was a one-night stand and bolted before Jack could explain, Tris had looked at him with something halfway between pity and frustration, and said, “You’re a fucking moron, Jack. You do realise that?”
And the thing was, Tristan was right. Jack was a moron. He’d known Harry was upset. He should have called in sick and stayed home to sort their shit out. He should have knocked on Harry’s door, insisted they talk, and apologised immediately. But no, he’d gone to work like nothing was wrong, like a—well. A fucking moron.
His phone rang in his hand, and he snatched it up eagerly and answered it without even checking the screen. “Harry?”
“No,” Mia said. “Want to tell me why I’ve had Mum and Aunt Cassie on the phone today fishing for details of your love life?”
“Shit.” He should have known they’d call Mia. “What did you tell them?”
“I told them I’m far too busy with my wedding to worry about who you’re dating,” Mia said. She really was the best. “I do want to know what the hell is going on, though,” she continued. “Cassie said you were kissing some guy at a restaurant, and Mum said you told her it was a one-night stand, and I know that’s not true. So, what gives?”
Jack took it back. She was the worst. “It was Harry.”
“And water is wet. Obviously it was Harry. But why did you tell Mum you didn’t have a boyfriend and were having one-night stands? Now she thinks you’re on the path to damnation, one slutty fuck at a time. Not that she put it like that, but you know she’s thinking it. The words loose lifestyle were used. As the actual family slut, I was offended.”
Jack sighed. “I fucked up.”
“Oh, just letting that ‘actual family slut’ thing pass without comment, huh?”
“Mia.”
“Jack.” She took pity on him. “What happened?”
“Cassie saw us at dinner. I panicked and shuffled her out of there without introducing Harry. Then, when Mum called to ask about who I was at dinner with, I panicked even harder said Harry was a one-night stand, a nobody. He overheard.”
For a moment there was dead silence. Then Mia said, “Wow. There are a million things you could have told Mum. Let’s start with, ‘Yes, I am seeing a boy, his name is John. Or Charles. Or Miguel.’ Why would you say he was nobody ?”
“I didn’t know what else to say!”
“You are a terrible liar, that’s the problem. You could have just given him a fake name!”
“And then what happens a few months down the track when we run into Cassie again, except this time she’s with Mum, and she says, ‘That guy’s not called Harry. That’s Miguel!’”
“You laugh it off and then drop a bug in Mum’s ear about Aunt Cassie’s early-onset dementia, obviously! You did take a Miguel out for dinner that time, but this is a totally different guy.”
“Holy shit.” Jack blinked. “That’s fucking evil .”
“Thanks. The real question, though, is why, in a few months’ time, Mum wouldn’t already know about Harry. How long are you planning to keep him your dirty little secret? Because I don't know about you, but if my shiny new boyfriend wanted to keep me hidden away like an old man’s porn stash, I don’t think I’d stand for it.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Harry felt the same. He’s gone to stay at Ambrose’s.”
Mia sucked in air between her front teeth, and the sound wasn’t any more reassuring than it was when the mechanics at Jack’s work made it with their heads under the bonnet of a 1972 Commodore that was making weird knocking sounds and was definitely going to need specialty parts ordered in. “You really screwed this up, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jack said miserably. “And I don’t know how to fix it.”
Mia sighed. “Have you talked to him?”
“No. I came home from work and he was gone. I’ve messaged him a bunch but he hasn’t replied, and I don’t want to turn up on his doorstep like some weird gaslighty boyfriend who goes over there to tell him he shouldn’t be upset. He should be upset. I’m a shit boyfriend.”
Mia’s silence was telling.
“You are!” Tristan said brightly from the doorway.
Jack twisted around. “How long have you been eavesdropping?”
“Since your phone rang.” Tristan smiled. “Hi, Mia!”
“Is that Tristan?” she asked, then yelled, right into Jack’s ear, “Hi, Tristan!”
“Put her on speaker,” Tris demanded, then sat down on the couch beside Jack. He tugged the hem of his kimono down. “Is this a boyfriend intervention? Because I have lots of things I want to say.”
“Have you ever even been in a relationship?”
Tris rolled his eyes. “Lots. Hundreds, probably.”
Jack sighed. “Have you ever been in a relationship that lasted longer than a night?”
“Excuse you, it’s about quality,” Tris said. “Not longevity. And trust me, I don’t get any complaints.”
Well, that was weirdly true. Maybe he actually knew more than he let on.
“So, I’ve been around the block a few times,” Tristan said. “ And so have you, Jack, because, well, look at you. And you too, Mia.”
“I am the family slut,” she agreed. “Before I met Tate, anyway.”
“Can you stop saying that?” Jack groaned.
“Absolutely not,” Mia said.
“Stop stealing Jack’s slutty thunder,” Tristan said.
“No! That’s not the reason!” Jack slumped back on the couch. “Jesus.”
“I just like making you confront your internalised slut-shaming,” Mia said. “It’s good for you, and entertaining for me.”
Jack sighed. “Can we get back on track? I was going to tell Mum and Dad I’m dating Harry after the wedding, which was always the plan, remember?”
Mia hummed thoughtfully.
“I love all this drama ,” Tristan said. “It’s very exciting. It’s like a little soap opera, isn’t it?”
“You’re not helping,” Jack said.
Tris grinned. “Oh, were you under the impression I was here to help ?” He cackled. “No, I’m here to offer opinions. And my opinion is that yes, you’re a shit boyfriend, but that Harry will probably forgive you if you make some grand romantic gesture, because that boy is a literal puppy and you’re his catnip.” He screwed up his nose and brushed a wispy blond curl off his face. “Mixed metaphor, but you get what I’m saying.”
Jack wasn’t sure that he did. “What kind of gesture?” At this stage he was open to suggestions, even if they did come from Tris.
“Harry has learned everything he knows about romance from romcoms,” Tristan said. “Maybe you should chase him to the airport? ”
“Why would he be going to the airport?”
“Probably just flowers then,” Tristan said. “And a big teddy bear.”
Jack shook his head. “Flowers won’t cut it. We already did that.”
“Big teddy bear,” Tristan repeated. “You know he’d go nuts for that.”
He would , Jack thought. He’d light up like it was Christmas. That was, if he was talking to Jack at all.
“I can’t fit into my wedding dress,” Mia said suddenly. “Before you get shirty, that’s not me changing the subject. My point is, the whole keeping the pregnancy thing under wraps until after the wedding? Probably not going to happen. I mean, there’s empire-line dresses, and there’s total denial, you know? And I think I’m in total denial. Last time I saw Mum I ate seven cupcakes in a row just so she thinks I’m getting fat instead. It was hilarious trying to watch her figure out a way to tell me I needed to go on a diet without body-shaming me, though. She was in knots. Anyway, I probably can’t continue to strategically hold things in front of my belly for much longer before she twigs. So what’s one more clusterfuck at the wedding? You should invite Harry. As your boyfriend.”
Jack’s heart beat faster. “Really?”
“Sure!” Mia laughed. “Why the hell not? It’s already going to be a disaster.”
“But—they’ll recognise him. And how the hell am I meant to explain that I’m dating the guy Dad threatened to have arrested if he ever saw him again?”
“I’ll tell them,” Mia said. “Trust me, after the baby bombshell, the fake boyfriend thing isn’t even going to make a dent. And, when they think about it, they’ll blame me, not Harry, but then they’ll be simultaneously shocked and thrilled by the baby news and they’ll forget about it anyway, so it’ll be fine. Dad will make his ‘I’m disappointed in you’ face, and Mum will be in a total tizzy, but then I’ll whip out the ultrasound and they’ll both be so stoked to have a grandkid on the horizon, they’ll get over it.”
“You couldn’t have thought of this weeks ago?”
“No, because my first instinct is to lie and keep lying,” Mia said. “I thought we covered that? But I could wear a tent on Sunday and I still wouldn’t be able to talk my way out of this. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but it’s like I’ve suddenly popped or something. I look like I’m trying to shoplift a Christmas pudding. And that’s without mentioning my boobs, which have gone from mangoes to rockmelons in the last week.” She hummed. “Tate’s enjoying that part, at least.”
Jack and Tristan shared a dubious look.
“Anyway, back to Harry,” Jack said. “Should I go over there? Or wait to hear?”
“You should go over there with a boombox,” Tristan said. “And stand on the footpath with it over your head. You could look all soulful and pensive.”
“I don’t have a boombox,” Jack said. “And I wouldn’t do that even if I did. That sort of thing gets you arrested in Potts Point.”
“Plus they’re right up near the top,” Tristan said thoughtfully. “You’d need to hire a window-cleaning hoist or something.”
“A cherry picker,” Mia suggested.
“I’m not hiring anything, because I’m not doing that,” Jack said. Quite apart from anything, he wasn’t great with heights and he didn’t trust Ambrose’s evil cat not to push him off the edge somehow. Or Ambrose, come to think of it. “Harry’s not into public gestures.”
Harry didn’t want a spectacle. He just wanted someone to dance with him in a dark street, or hold his hand, or kiss him at a bus stop. Buy him a sidecar and call it their special thing.
To tell him he mattered.
Tristan had been tapping furiously at his phone, but he paused. “So I’m not hiring a cherry picker?”
“No,” Jack said. “We don’t even know if he’s going to forgive me.”
“Hello, that’s why we’re hiring the cherry picker. Oooh, what about a flash mob?” Tristan waggled his phone. “You can hire an a cappella group to sing Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word or something. The drama kids at uni would probably do it for a slab of VB.”
Jack gave him a flat look.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Mia said. “After you’ve grovelled sufficiently, you’re going to invite him to the wedding and tell him you can’t wait to show him off as your boyfriend. I’ll tell Mum and Dad before the wedding, and then, before they get too hung up on me fake dating, I drop the baby news. You’ll turn up with your boy, all pretty in matching suits, and Aunt Cassie will get to crow that she knew about it before anyone else. Job done.”
“Assuming Harry will even see me.”
“Of course he’ll see you,” Mia said. “He still talked to you after you nearly killed him that time, right? Besides, he’s totally gone on you.”
“I guess.”
Jack just wished he felt as confident as Mia sounded.
An hour later, Jack hesitated at the front door of the adult shop in Enmore Road .
“They have PG stuff too,” Tristan said, tugging him through the entrance. “Come on!”
After Jack had agreed with Tristan that a massive teddy bear was a great idea, Tris had insisted they go and get one at once. Jack had said there wouldn’t be anywhere open at this hour—thinking of Big W or Target or wherever it was that people bought teddy bears—but Tristan had promised he knew a place. This wasn’t the sort of toy shop Jack had been thinking of.
“Hi, Tristan!” the girl on the counter exclaimed, waving. She had multicoloured hair, lots of piercings, and was wearing a leather bustier.
“Hi, Wei!”
Jack followed him over to the counter, trying not to be intimidated by how large the store was. He also tried not to think about the fact that there was a rack of vibrators right next to Wei. If the vibrators were kept on the front counter, what the hell was out the back?
Wei looked Jack up and down and gave a nod of approval. “You do pick the prettiest boys, Tris.”
“Excuse you, I’m the pretty one. He’s a tradie ,” Tristan said. “And anyway, we’re not here for anything sexy.”
Wei blinked slowly, as though she was having trouble processing that sentence. “You’re not?” she asked finally, looking as off-kilter as Jack felt.
“Nope!” Tristan said cheerfully. “We need a giant apology bear because Jack fucked up.”
Jack wished Tristan wasn’t quite so eager to point that out to everyone. Wei though, just nodded. “One dickhead boyfriend special coming up. Follow me out the back.”
She headed towards a mysterious curtained doorway that was tucked between a display of fleshlights and a wall of butt plugs, and Jack followed her. Tristan trailed behind, making admiring noises at the displays. Jack wanted to tell him that he could shop later, but he realised that if he did, Tris would definitely take him up on it, and Jack didn’t really fancy spending the evening listening to Tris extol the virtues of different brands of lube. Not that he had anything against lube—he was one of its biggest fans—but all he really wanted to do right now was buy a bear and go and make up with Harry. He still hadn’t heard anything back, but Tris had assured him that Harry was prone to turtling when he was upset, and not to take it personally.
Jack reminded himself that Harry was new to all this, and he was allowed some time to turtle, especially when Jack was mostly to blame. Mia was right—he could have lied and given Harry a fake name for Mum’s benefit. Hell, he could have told Mum it was new and none of her business, even though if he’d done that he’d be hearing about it until at least Christmas. But mainly, he should have realised that Harry would be hurt by Jack pretending he was nobody at all, and been prepared to suffer Mum’s nagging and guilt trips. Because Harry was worth it.
So it wasn’t fair to blame this whole mess on Harry overreacting. Not when Jack was the one who’d overreacted to his mum’s questions to start with and pretended Harry didn’t matter, when he very much did. He should have done a lot better and put Harry’s feelings above his own.
He only wished he’d figured all that out before he ended up trailing through a sex shop at eleven p.m. with Tristan, and staring at a picture on a box of a blow-up sex doll and thinking of his sister’s rockmelon boobs and wondering if they looked as ridiculous. Okay, so he was taking that one to his grave.
“Okay,” Wei announced as they stepped through into a back room. “Here’s everything!”
Jack blinked around the room in surprise. It looked like Valentine’s Day had crawled back here to die, or possibly spawn. So many hearts. Battalions of stuffed animals. Garish pink bows. Horrible figurines of kittens that said ‘You’re purrfect.’ It was the antithesis of a sex shop.
Wei grinned at the look on his face. “Makes your eyes burn, doesn’t it? I’ll leave you to it. I’m going back out the front to the leather.”
Jack couldn’t blame her.
“Okay,” Tris said, clapping his hands together. “I was here the other week—one of the queens needed a pink babydoll nightie—and I saw the best bear.” He strode towards the end of the room. “Here he is!”
The bear was at least half Tristan’s height. It was brown and soft, and it was wearing glasses and a tie. Holy shit. He was right—it was perfect. It was possibly even Harry in teddy bear form. His glasses were a little bit askew, and Jack resisted the urge to straighten them like he sometimes did with Harry’s. He bit his lip instead, his chest tightening, and nodded.
“Yeah, okay, this was a great idea.”
“I told you. I’m brilliant at relationship stuff. Are you getting anything to go with the bear?”
“Like what?”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “We’re in a sex shop, Jack. Pick something. Harry’s such an innocent puppy that literally anything will rock his little world.”
It was probably stupid, but Jack felt a flare of possessiveness. He wanted to be the only one rocking Harry’s anything. “No,” he said firmly. “We’re sticking with the bear.”
Tris grinned. “Maybe later then. Tell you what, I’ll get you two a gift basket for Christmas.”
“Please don’t.”
Tristan flashed him a smile he didn’t trust for a second, then clapped his hands again. “Okay! Let’s go and pay for this, and then take it to Ambrose’s place. Traffic should be light at this hour, at least!”
Jack took the bear off him, and they headed for the front counter to pay.