Chapter 16 #2
My own untrustworthy stomach has settled enough for me to nibble on a piece of bacon, sitting back in my chair and grinning at him.
He cups his palms and brushes them over the table, gathering stray eggs.
Tipping them back onto his plate, he bends down to pick up the fork as well.
That done, he drinks the last of his hot chocolate.
With no other distractions immediately at hand, his eyes find mine again. I’ve never seen his face this red.
“I know you’re not messing with me, but it also feels like you might be messing with me,” he says. I shake my head.
“Not a chance.”
“I’m not still asleep, am I? Because I went to bed sniffing your pillow and thinking some thoughts that are pretty on par with this conversation,” he admits, grinning shyly.
I try not to feel too proud of myself for that.
I’m not an idiot, I know I’m good looking enough to do all right, and the accent certainly doesn’t hurt.
But looks can only get you so far, and the fact of the matter is I’m just not very interesting.
Nor do I have a lot to offer. Even when I was living in Australia, I mostly stayed to myself—I worked hard and enjoyed my job, before going home and enjoying my solitude.
Monthly calls with my sister was the highlight of my social calendar.
I met a few blokes I liked to surf with, and would occasionally grab a beer with some workmates, but none of those people were close enough friends to care that I’m now gone.
My circle here in South Carolina is even smaller— Parker, Nico and Anthony, and now Jack.
I’ve just turned thirty years old, and have very, very little to offer a partner.
Jack—young, smart, and handsome—should probably not be wasting time with me.
I contemplate saying all of that out loud, starting to feel like maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. Bloody hell, he’s not even old enough to drink yet. Stomach cramping, I realize he’s exactly ten years older than Parker and ten years younger than me.
“I’m probably too old for you, though,” I comment out loud. This is going to set a record for shortest relationship. To my surprise, Jack tips his head back and laughs.
“No you’re not. And anyway, I don’t want to date people my age. I tried it once, and it wasn’t for me.”
“Once?” I clarify.
“Yeah.” He flaps a hand through the air in front of him. “I messed it up, naturally. And I didn’t really enjoy it anyway. I was planning on not going on another date until I was thirty.”
“Well—”
“—but none of that matters now, because it’s you,” he rushes to continue. “I like you. I don’t care if you’re old. Which you’re not! You’re just older than me. But still young.”
“Good save, Jacko,” I comment dryly, chuckling. “Last week Parker asked if I was excited to retire in a few years, so I guess thirty is the new sixty.”
He laughs, looking relieved that I’m not offended by the reminder of how young he is.
I pop a small bit of egg in my mouth, chewing despite the rubbery, tastelessness of it.
I’m not a huge fan of eating on my best day, but add in a slightly uncomfortable adult conversation and I can pretty much count on nausea joining the party.
Sighing, I put the fork back down. Parker will finish it when he wakes up—he’ll eat anything, no matter how cold or disgusting it is.
“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Jack comments, more to himself than to me.
“Fair dinkum, neither can I,” I reply, and smile when he bursts into another fit of laughter. He looks at me, face caught in a you cannot be serious expression. I shrug, grinning. “That’s what we say in Straya.”
“Stop it.”
“Nobody does slang like the Aussies.”
“It’s like a whole other language,” he muses. “It’s kind of crazy that you have the accent, right? Because you weren’t born there, were you?”
“No, Vic and I were both born in Indiana. But we moved to Australia when I was two? Might have been younger, actually. Anyway—it was young enough that I was learning to talk, so I learned to talk like an Aussie.”
“What a blessing,” Jack comments, making me snort. “How long were you there, then? Must have been a long time.”
“Yeah, we moved back to America when I was seventeen, which was pretty awful. I went right back the moment I could. I’m more Aussie than American, no matter where I was born.”
“You love it there.”
“I do,” I agree. “But, I like it here, too. Maybe one day I’ll go back, but that’s too far down the road to worry about now. I’ve got to get Parker through school, first.”
“I would love to travel around one day,” Jack muses, excitement tinging his voice and a faraway look in his eyes as though he’s imagining it right now. “I always buy the travel guides when they show up at the thrift store. I don’t have one for Australia yet. I’ve got New Zealand, though!”
“Ah, the Kiwis. New Zealand is nice—I’ve only been there once for a holiday, but it was good.”
“You’ve traveled a lot, huh?” he asks, leaning over the table toward me, pushing his plate out of the way so he can cross his arms on the table.
“A fair amount, yeah. My dad’s work brought us to Australia, and we traveled a bit over the holidays.
” I shrug. I know I was lucky to have the opportunity to travel as a kid, but most of the trips aren’t good memories.
Bad parents at home don’t suddenly become good parents on holiday.
“I’d love to take Parker around, on his summer breaks.
Once I’m allowed to take him out of the country, that is. ”
I do a pretty good job at keeping the bitterness from my voice.
It pisses me off that I’m having to waste an incredible amount of money on this lawsuit; that I can’t even take Parker on a fucking road trip to Florida without reporting where we’re going.
He’s my kid, and the fact that I have to fight for that is ridiculous.
Leave it to my family to dishonor the last thing their daughter ever asked of them.
Speaking of the devil, the sound of a door creaking open halts the conversation. I turn my head, watching the doorway, and smile when Parker shuffles into view. His eyes are scrunched closed, hair a mess, and skinny white legs on display beneath the baggy-shirt-and-boxers ensemble he sleeps in.
“Morning, little buddy,” I greet him, holding out a hand to try and tempt him over to my side of the table.
I’m feeling pretty fond of the kid this morning.
He’s not one to dole out hugs, or say he loves you—I don’t even know if it’s because I’m his uncle, or if he was the same way with his mum and dad.
Sometimes, I get the impression that he doesn’t particularly like me at all, so last night was a bit of a relief for me.
I’m not out here trying to replace his parents, but I wouldn’t say no to a little more love passed my direction.
He slouches over to me, rubbing at his left eye, and flops down into the chair next to mine.
“It’s early,” he comments. I glance at the oven clock, which shows that it is not, in fact, early.
“Hungry?” I push my plate over to him, and stand up, putting a hand on his head to ruffle his hair. “You can finish mine, and I’ll make you something fresh.”
“Okay, thanks. Hi, Jack.”
“Morning,” Jack responds, before turning three separate shades of red. I smile to myself as I fire the stove back up and pull the bacon back out of the refrigerator. I guarantee he’s thinking about the fact that he and I are going to try and dip our toes into dating.
Which means, I suppose, that I’ll have to have the conversation with Parker sooner rather than later.
Glad that my back is turned to them, I stare down at the pan and watch the food cook.
Shit, what if he doesn’t want me to date Jack?
He made the comment about us being boyfriends, but his mind changes with the bloody wind—it’s entirely possible that, when I tell him, he’ll decide he’s not super chuffed about sharing my attention with someone else.
And, thinking on the topic of disclosing the relationship, Nico will need to know as well.
Even if Jack wants to play things close to the chest and not do a whole lot of public dating, he and I can’t have any sort of relationship beyond friendship unless Nico knows.
That’ll be a fun conversation , Vic chimes in happily.
I sigh, because it’ll probably be a lot of things, but “fun” is unlikely to be one of them.