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“I’m joking, but Chris?”
“Yes, what is it?” Chris turned back.
“Nothing, just, good for you, man,” Brendan said self-consciously.
Chris grinned, nervous. “Thanks, here’s hoping he says yes.”
“He’s gonna say yes,” Brendan scoffed.
“We’ll see,” Chris murmured and headed out.
13
Joq meandered down Bourke Street, his mind turning over getting Chris a gift for this dinner tonight. Chris wanted to have a ‘special night’ and since Joq had done nothing to contribute to that, he thought a gift would be nice. Plus, he liked the idea of getting him something; he could imagine Chris’s grateful look no matter how stupid it was. It was tough because Chris could buy himself literally anything he wanted, so it had to be thoughtful.
He went into a shop, flicked through the ornaments and antiques when he found it.
It wasn’t much—a clan crest kilt pin—but it was the McLachlan clan, the insignia inscribed in a circle with a buckle, a dagger through the middle with Celtic or Gaelic symbols.
“Scottish heritage?” a woman said from beside him.
Joq cracked a smile—him?
She returned the smile like she’d been joking.
“My boyfriend. He’s a McLachlan.”
“Well,” she smiled warmly, “this is a thoughtful gift, then. We get them in from the St Kilda stockist, they get Scottish Chief approval or something. Accentuates the antiques a bit.”
Joq raised a quizzical eyebrow. She pointed at the price at the top of the stand. $49.95. Cheap. Probably a lot cheaper than everything else in the place.
But cheap or not, he thought Chris would get a kick out of it.
“I’ll take it,” he said.
“He’s a lucky man,” she replied with a grin and took it from him to gift wrap.
He stepped back onto Bourke Street, the package under his arm, and smiled into the sunshine. He couldn’t wait to give it to Chris at dinner, to see his appreciative grin even though it was probably cheesy. Chris had told him to wear a suit, said it was “about time we got dressed up and had a romantic night out,” and Joq was happy to oblige.
He was almost on top of him by the time he saw him.
George.
He was standing in the middle of the mall, a tiny newborn cradled in his big arms.
Joq’s brain couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. He’d blocked out all sport news for a year now. And while he oversaw the team at the stadium, he managed to do a lot more than he ever thought he could without taking in what was going on in that world. It helped he had Simo running things and he was able to skip most games, and all the Sydney games. Helped even more he could work remotely so much—his basic function was overseeing the technology, he hardly needed to go in at all.
So now he was seeing George—bigger than he remembered—holding a baby and he had no idea whose baby it was, what George was even doing shopping in Melbourne.
He was going to turn around when George looked his way. He seemed surprised, but then he smiled, friendly.
“Joq, hey,” he said.
“George, hi, thought that was you,” Joq replied feeling surreal.
George looked down at the baby in his arms. “This is Laine,” he said quietly, and his face was so heartbreakingly soft it made Joq want to look away. “My son.”
Joq’s brain short-circuited. He had a son?
