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Ambrose
Ambrose couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried to make a good impression, but he was pretty sure it started with being early, so on Saturday night he arrived outside the restaurant in George Street, The Rocks, a whole fifteen minutes before Liam had said to meet him there. Then, because he felt awkward standing outside on the street, he sent Liam a text saying he’d meet him inside at the bar.
He went inside and ordered a Coke.
The restaurant was nice. It was small but upscale, with soft lighting and a classy marriage of new fixtures inside a very old heritage setting. It didn’t have the harbour views of the place that Liam worked at, but the plates being brought out from the kitchen were impractically large and square, and the portions were small and delicately arranged, tiny little towers of food, so Ambrose was sure the prices were just as exorbitant.
He sat on a stool at the bar and sipped his Coke. His phone buzzed, and he checked his messages. It was from Liam, saying he was running a few minutes late, but he’d be there soon. Ambrose didn’t mind. He’d already been paid half upfront.
He glanced around the restaurant, and accidentally caught the eye of a short, round, red-headed woman sitting at a nearby table. She saw that he was holding his phone, and picked hers up and waved it at him, in some secret signal that Ambrose completely failed to comprehend. Then she pushed her chair back, ignoring her companions, and bustled over to him.
“Hello,” she said brightly, her sparkling green eyes wide and curious. “You wouldn’t be Ambrose, would you? Liam’s Ambrose?”
“Oh, yes.” Ambrose said, standing. “That’s me.”
He held out his hand to shake, and she bypassed it completely and hugged him.
“I’m Fiona,” she said once she let go. “Fiona Connelly, Liam’s mum. You can call me Fiona, or Fi, or even Mum, but don’t tell Liam I said that, because he already thinks I’m overbearing.” She hooked her elbow through his. “Now come and meet the family!”
Ambrose didn’t even have time to grab his Coke before he was being swept over to the rest of the Connellys.
“This is my husband, William,” Fiona said, gesturing to a tall man with dark greying hair who looked like an older version of Liam and appeared to be about halfway through a very successful transition into a silver fox. “He goes by Will. And his father, Billy, Liam’s grandad.”
Billy was in his post-silver fox stage of life, given the way the lights shone on the top of his bald head. He looked to be in his mid-seventies, but there wasn’t a hint of frailty about him, and his grip, when he shook Ambrose’s hand, was as solid as his stocky build.
“Nice to meet ya,” he said with a grin. “You can call me Grandad Billy. Everyone else does.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Ambrose replied.
“And Liam’s sisters,” Fiona said. “Bridget, Neve and Riley.”
The two oldest were gorgeous and dark-haired like their father and brother. The youngest one was a redhead like her mother. They were stuck on the other side of the table, so Ambrose had to make do with waves and a chorus of hellos.
“And this is Orhan, Bridget’s husband,” Fiona said. “And their adorable little one, Balian.”
“Hi,” Orhan said, jiggling a surprisingly chill baby in his lap. Orhan was good-looking, with hair as dark as ink, cheekbones to die for and black-rimmed glasses that made him look like a sexy librarian. “Great to meet you.”
“Oh, and Marcus should be here soon,” Fiona said, as though Ambrose had any clue who that was.
“Marcus is my boyfriend. He’s an investment banker, and he works some crazy hours,” Neve said. “He’s running late, but I’m sure he’ll make it.” She reached for her glass of wine.
“Oh,” Ambrose said, his head still spinning a little from the rapid introductions. Winemakers and investment bankers. He was out of his depth here, but at least everyone seemed nice. He took a seat next to Fiona. “That sounds really interesting.”
“It’s super boring,” Riley the teenage redhead said. “You don’t need to be polite.”
Ambrose leaned over the table and said, in his loudest stage-whisper, “I know, but I’m trying to make a good impression.”
The Connellys all roared with laughter, except for the chill baby, who just sat in his dad’s lap and continued to be chill. Even Neve laughed, so Ambrose didn’t feel too bad about disparaging her absent boyfriend’s career choice.
A waiter brought Ambrose’s Coke and set it on the table.
“Thank you,” Ambrose said, fighting his first instinct, which was to upend the contents of the glass all over everything. Wow. Being a professional bad boyfriend had really ruined him when it came to nice restaurants. A dress code and some softly playing classical music, and that was apparently enough to jumpstart his Pavlovian response to be a total dick. He’d have to watch that tonight. And in the future, if he ever wanted to go on a date with anyone for real.
“So, Ambrose,” Fiona said, showing him a brilliant smile. “Tell us all about you. Where are you from? What are your plans for the future?”
This was the part where Ambrose usually would have lied, but he stomped down on the urge just in time. “Oh,” he said. “I’m living in Newtown right now, for uni, but I grew up in Macquarie Fields.” He gave them all a moment to judge him for that and was almost surprised when it didn’t happen. “My mum still lives there. I have one sister. She lives in Brisbane now. She’s an accountant.”
He wasn’t even sure why he was mentioning that, unless it was to give himself some respectability by proxy. Fiona showed him an encouraging smile, urging him to continue.
