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“Oh,” he said at last, pushing the word out. “I mean, I guess.”
Grandad patted the fender again. “It’s also why nobody drives her but me. They wouldn’t appreciate her like I do. Some things are only precious to one person, but it doesn’t mean they’re any less precious.”
Ambrose was saved from having to answer by a sudden hammering on the tin roof as the rain started up again. “I guess we’re stuck here for a bit,” Liam said, glancing up.
“Nonsense. A bit of rain never hurt anyone, and we’ll have a nip of port when we get back to the house to warm the cockles. It’ll be grand,” Grandad Billy said. He shooed them out into the pouring rain with a giant grin.
As he ran up the mud-soaked driveway with cold water pelting down the back of his neck, Ambrose reflected that Grandad Billy was obviously a little bit of a bastard at heart, and Ambrose liked that about him. Then he remembered that he wasn’t meant to like him, that he wasn’t here to make friends. He was just playing a part.
The thought of spending any more time with the rest of the family and being deliberately obnoxious was suddenly unbearable.
“I don’t want to drink any port,” he said as they reached the safety of the porch. “I might just go back to the cabin for a bit, if that’s okay?”
Liam nodded at him. He looked confused as to why Ambrose had even asked. “Yeah, of course. Are you okay?”
No, I’m not okay. Because I like you, but I’m not really your boyfriend, he wanted to say. And I’m asking your permission because you’re paying me, remember?
Grandad Billy, though, nodded sagely. “Need a nap, do you? I’m not surprised. It can take it out of you, saving a poor babby from a snake.” He laughed heartily at his own joke and slapped Ambrose on the back with a wet palm, and Ambrose forced a smile.
“That’s me, the Steve Irwin of Pokolbin,” he agreed. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck in a vain attempt to stop the rain sliding down his shirt. “I’ll, um…I’ll see you back there.”
He turned and bolted for the cabins before he could hear Liam’s response.
Chapter Fourteen
Liam
It was several hours before Liam made his way back towards the cabins, loaded down with food from Mum because Ambrose had missed dinner. Mum’s attitude towards Ambrose had softened a lot after he’d ‘rescued’ Balian, and it helped that she was delighted with the prospect of helping to organise an October wedding. It took Liam a minute to remember that Mum liking Ambrose was the opposite of what they’d planned, and that he was meant to be all wrong for Liam. They’d probably have to work on that. The thought of Ambrose parading himself as a poor choice made Liam’s gut squirm uncomfortably for reasons he didn’t really want to think about right now, so he thought about Neve’s fiancé instead, which didn’t actually make the squirming go away.
Marcus was…
Well, Liam didn’t know how he felt about Marcus. He firstly didn’t understand why it had taken an engagement to meet him. Neve had explained that Marcus’s work kept him very busy, and Liam understood busy, okay? But he also understood family, and he was pretty sure missing your own engagement announcement was taking the piss. Then, over an early dinner of sandwiches and salad, Marcus had said, “You live in Potts Point, right? In Byron Hall?”
“That’s right,” Liam had said.
“Neve, sweetheart,” Marcus had said, “instead of looking for a place together, we should move into your family’s flat.”
Liam had blinked. “It’s not the family’s flat. It’s Grandad’s flat.”
Neve had laughed. “I already told you we can’t do that, Marcus. Liam lives there, and the spare room in the flat will be for Riley if she goes to Sydney for uni.”
Yeah, that too, but it was Grandad’s flat. He’d let all of them use it for uni because what was the point of it just sitting there otherwise? But they were expected to get their own places after graduation, not just assume they could go on living there rent-free.
Liam trudged unhappily through the rain, holding his umbrella tightly in one hand and the straps of the bag digging into the fingers of his other. He didn’t like Marcus. He didn’t feel right, as though he didn’t fit. Even Orhan, who’d once been shy and polite before the Connellys got their hands on him, had seemed to fit from the start. Hell, Ambrose fitted, and he wasn’t even meant to. But Marcus? He had edges that didn’t slot in with the rest of the family, let alone with what Liam thought he knew about Neve, and those edges grated.
He stepped up onto the porch of the cabin. The door was ajar, propped open with a shoe. Liam rolled his eyes and pushed the door open with his shoulder, kicking the shoe out of the way when he nearly tripped over it as he stepped inside.
Ambrose was curled up on the bed, hugging a pillow and snoring softly.
Liam moved past him silently into the little kitchen area and began to unpack the snacks. He wasn’t as quiet as he’d hoped—by the time he glanced at Ambrose again, Ambrose was yawning and stretching awake.
“Hey,” he said, his voice sounding muzzy with sleep.
“Brought you some food,” Liam said.
Ambrose sat up, blinking, and smiled slowly. “Yeah?”
“Sandwiches, mostly,” Liam said. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got some roast beef and chutney, some pulled pork and coleslaw, and some chicken and avocado.”
