Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Seb
As I finish doing inventory in the feed room, one of the world’s most boring jobs, I’m thinking about the fact that I’ve never been in a relationship that’s as much fun as this one.
And isn’t that sad? It’s not even that Jack and I spend a lot of time doing overtly “fun” things.
For three days a week, we don’t even see each other.
But I still can’t wipe the smile from my face.
When we’re together, everything seems better.
Is it because I’ve always been so focused on my long-term career plans and never given anyone else the chance to make me feel this way?
Or is it because I’ve never been with Jack before?
I’m almost afraid of the answer.
One thing that’s definitely new to me is sexting and late-night video calls.
I’ve always seen my phone as a practical thing.
Sure, other people have phone sex, but no way could it be as good as the real thing, right?
So what’s the point?
There’s a point.
A good one.
A very good one.
So good, I went online and bought a little stand for my phone so I can be hands-free…
or rather, hands-on.
So now, nearly three months into our relationship, I can look back on my past fears and laugh.
Why did I ever wonder if this would be a mistake?
Being with Jack is the best thing I’ve ever done.
A little voice in the back of my head is even singing stupid songs about love .
Which, to be fair, I’m pretty sure Jack feels the same, because sometimes he looks at me like I’m the best thing in the world and seems about to say something, but doesn’t, and then he’ll look like a wounded puppy.
I’m getting close to just saying it so Jack can, too, and won’t ever look that way again.
I finish marking the list and check to see what needs to be reordered, making a separate list of those items and quantities.
I need to have a quick chat with Chris about class scheduling for next year and then head back to my office to handle the ordering and make up the timetable.
If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to sneak in my lunch outside on the terrace before this afternoon’s visiting garden club arrives.
My phone rings, cutting through the ordinary sounds of the stable, and I yank it out of my pocket, hoping it isn’t something that’ll derail my day.
It isn’t.
“Hey,” I answer, my voice all soft.
A year ago, I mercilessly teased a friend for sounding that way, but now I get it.
“Hi, babe,” Jack says.
“Having a good day?”
It’s only been a few hours since we texted, but I still love that he asked.
“Yeah. You?”
“Sarah says I’m completely useless,” Jack announces cheerfully.
“Probably because I spent ten minutes grilling her on what I should buy you for Christmas.”
I freeze.
Oh, fuck. I normally Christmas shop by raiding the gift card stand at Woolworths, but presents for a boyfriend are supposed to be personal, aren’t they?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I don’t suppose I can call and grill her on what I should buy for you?” I say, trying to make it sound like a joke but kind of meaning it.
Jack laughs, and I’m not sure sure if that means I succeeded or failed.
“Since she told me I was on my own, I’m gonna say no.” Damn.
“But that’s not what I was calling about.”
Right.
I push down my sudden Christmas gift fear.
Maybe I can ask Mum or my sisters for tips.
They’re all in happy relationships.
“I realized this morning that we never worked out our plans for the ball.”
I blink.
What? “The ball?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m normally there on a Saturday, but obviously we need to be in town. Do you want to come up on the Friday, or do you want me to come as usual on the Thursday, and then we’ll drive up together the Saturday? And then maybe stay here for a few days after and head back to the Vale together midweek?”
Suddenly, I can’t breathe.
Jack’s been talking about the Tarrant Foundation Annual Charity Ball for weeks—months, really—but it never occurred to me that I’d have to go.
After all, what the fuck good would I be at a ball?
A charity ball? I don’t have thousands of dollars to donate, I hate getting dressed up, and schmoozing to the sound of orchestra music is not my thing.
Although Jack mentioned that a local singer/songwriter made big is going to provide the entertainment, so maybe there won’t be orchestra music.
Or at least not much.
But still.
“I… ah… the ball. Right.” Could I sound any more stupid?
“You okay, Seb?” Jack sounds concerned, and that cuts through my panic.
“Fine. Sorry. Distracted. Um, I’ve been thinking, do you really want me to be there? I mean, you’ll be working, and I don’t want to… distract you,” I finish weakly.
Silence.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Jack finally says, because he’s not an idiot and any fool could see through my excuse.
I close my eyes and gird my loins.
“No, I want to,” I lie.
But is it really a lie?
Because I want Jack to be happy, and if my presence achieves that, then that’s what I want.
“I, um, just… I’ve never been to a ball before. I mean, aside from the ones at uni, and they were really just piss-ups.” There, that’s true.
Jack laughs, and the fist that was clenched around my heart slowly releases.
“Believe me, there’s not that big a difference. Don’t be nervous, I swear it’ll be… well, maybe not fun, but we’ll have a good time anyway. Think of all the stuff we can get up to in the limo.”
I clear my throat, a little turned on by the thought.
“It’s less than a ten-minute ride from your apartment to the venue,” I remind Jack.
“So we tell the driver to go around the block a few times.”
It’s my turn to laugh.
“Maybe we can not traumatize that poor driver,” I chide.
“But I’m sure there are some offices or something at the venue that we can use.”
“I like the way you think, baby,” Jack says admiringly.
“We’ll need a break from all those blowhards at some stage. So, plans?”
“I’ll come up on the Friday,” I say, mentally rearranging my schedule for that week.
“Probably in the morning.” I’ll need to arrange a tux for myself too.
I’ve never had a tux before, since I just don’t attend events that require them.
Hell, if Jack and I stay together, is that going to change?
Should I look into buying one instead of hiring?
That’s a question for another day.
One thing at a time.
We wrap up the call, and I immediately dial another number.
“Hello?”
“Mum? Hi. How are you?” I say the words perfunctorily because she gets huffy if I don’t ask.
She laughs. “I’m well, thanks, Seb. Need something?”
Ouch.
“Why do you assume that? Maybe I’m just calling to say hi.”
“My beloved son, you call me every Monday and come for dinner every second Wednesday, but other than that, I only hear from you if you need something.”
That’s not true.
Is it? Oh my god, am I a bad son?
“I’m so sor?—”
She laughs again.
“Don’t be sorry. That’s more than a lot of my friends get from their sons. Now, what can I do for you? Is everything okay? Jack’s well?”
“He’s fine,” I say automatically, still low-key worried that I’m the bad egg of her three children.
One of my sisters has a baby, so I can’t compete with that, but I thought things were pretty even between me and my other sister.
“Uh, that’s actually why I’m calling. What should I get him for Christmas?”
There’s a little silence, and I pull the phone away from my ear to make sure the call hasn’t dropped.
“Hello? Mum?”
“I’m here. Just wondering why you think I, who’ve met Jack once, would know that better than you, his boyfriend.”
Uh-oh.
This isn’t going to go well for me.
“It’s not that, exactly. More that I’m not sure what type of gift it should be at this stage of our relationship. Like, am I thinking in the range of a skydiving experience, or something more sentimental?”
“Again,” Mum says dryly, “why do you think I know more about what stage your relationship is at than you?”
She might have a point there.
Clearly I’m losing at being a good son and at being a good boyfriend.
“I’ll have a think about it,” I concede.
“I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”
“I’m sure you will,” Mum says, clearly humoring me.
“But while I have you, let’s talk about Christmas.”
“Oh. Okay. Um… is it still lunch? I can do dinner if Simone has to go to her in-laws.” It’s easy for me to be flexible, since I don’t have in-laws to worry about.
“Actually, I was going to ask if lunch was a conflict for you,” Mum counters.
“Are you spending any time with Jack’s family? You know the traffic between here and Melbourne is horrible on Christmas Day.” She says something else, but I’m stuck on the whole “spending time with Jack’s family” thing.
Today is just one curveball after another.
“We haven’t talked about it yet.” Fuck, is this like the ball?
Does he assume that I’ll be going with him to his family’s Christmas celebrations?
There’s another very loud silence from Mum, and then she says, “Okay. Well, you know that Jack’s welcome to join us. In fact, I thought he was going to. So do your sisters—Tamara already bought him a gift.”
This is a nightmare.
“We just haven’t finalized things,” I manage to get out through my suddenly dry throat.
“I’ll let you know for sure in the next day or so.”
Mum chuckles, and I know I haven’t fooled her.
“I’ll let you go, then. I’m sure you have a lot to do still this afternoon.”
I somehow get through the end of the call, then stare at my phone like it’s a venomous snake.
Now what? How do I ask Jack if we’re spending Christmas together?
By text. Sneakily.
Seb:
Hey, forgot to say…
my sister already bought you a Chrissy present.
Just so you’re not blindsided.
She’s like that.
There.
That doesn’t say anything about when my sister will give it to him or where that will be.
He could think that Tamara plans to ask me to pass it along.
But hopeful?—
Ding.
I open the message.
Jack:
Thanks for the heads-up!
Would have been awkward if I showed up with just a family present and she had something for me.
I guess we’re spending Christmas with each other’s families.
The smile that takes over my face is completely unexpected.