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Ambrose inhaled deeply as well and let out a tiny groan. “Fi, you’re a goddess among women.”
“That she is,” Will agreed, giving her a fond look. “Now eat up, the lot of you.”
Liam couldn’t help sneaking glances at Ambrose as they ate. His hair had dried into a soft mess of sticky-uppy bits and stray curls on the nape of his neck, and it should have looked silly, but no, Ambrose was still stupidly attractive. In fact, the scruffiness somehow made him even better looking, which Liam felt was patently unfair—except he didn’t really mind, because that unfairly attractive man was his boyfriend. And this time it was for real.
Epilogue
Three months later
“Iwish I didn’t have to work tonight,” Liam said. He looked like a sad little matchgirl as he gazed at Ambrose and Tobermory who were curled up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket.
“You don’t have to work for hours yet,” Ambrose said. He lifted the edge of the blanket. “Get in here and snuggle with me.”
Liam sat down beside him, pulling the blanket over his body and putting his arms around Ambrose. Tobermory grumbled as they squished him.
“How did your audition go?” Liam asked, curling his fingers around Ambrose’s.
Ambrose wrinkled his nose. “Good? I think so, anyway. Who even knew the Arts Council was still a thing? This time next month I could be driving around in a van, rocking up at primary schools and scaring young children with song and dance numbers about stranger danger.”
Liam laughed.
“Like, I don’t know,” Ambrose said. “Is the smartest way to teach kids to be wary of strangers really by encouraging them to play along with weirdos in costumes who ask them their names and give out lollies? Seems counter-intuitive to me.”
“But it’s a paid gig,” Liam said.
“It is a paid gig,” Ambrose agreed. “And Jeanette, she wrote the songs, has some really good connections with the local theatre scene too. She’s crowd-funding to make her first short film, and she reckons I’d be good in it.”
Liam’s face lit up. “That’s fantastic.”
Ambrose drew a breath. “I mean, maybe nothing will come of it. But who knows?”
Ambrose still didn’t like to think too hard about what would happen if he didn’t make it as an actor. Because while on one hand, the last few months had taught him that he wasn’t a total fuck-up and things could always turn around, on the other, he still didn’t have a backup plan. Liam said he didn’t need one, but that was because Liam was his biggest fan and he seemed to think it was inevitable that Ambrose would eventually get his big break. Ambrose was a hell of a lot more jaded than Liam, but it felt nice to have someone on his side who, unlike Mum, wasn’t actually delusional. And meanwhile, the Arts Council gig, which he was pretty confident he would get, was money for jam, plus an entry on his resume that wasn’t over a decade old. He’d take it.
And, even without a plan, for the first time in his life, contemplating a future where he didn’t make it as an actor didn’t scare the fuck out of Ambrose. Because there were other things in life that were just as important. Like Liam. Like being around people he loved—Liam, again, Harry and the Connellys—who loved him in return, and who didn’t care if his face wasn’t on the cover of TV Week, as long as he was happy.
So he didn’t have a plan, but that was okay. Everything was, surprisingly, okay. It was more than okay, really. It was great. Ambrose was loving his life right now, and not just because he’d moved out of his shitty share house and into an apartment with harbour views and a cat. Although that didn’t hurt, of course. And the hot, nerdy boyfriend who knew way too much about soil and grapes and would tell Ambrose about them until Ambrose threatened to smother him with a pillow was a definite added bonus.
Said hot, nerdy boyfriend snuggled in closer. “Even if this doesn’t come to anything, there’ll be other chances,” he said, echoing Ambrose’s own thoughts, “and there’s no rush. You’re still at uni. You aren’t meant to have it all figured out yet.” He leaned in and kissed Ambrose, long and slow, and Ambrose responded eagerly. It was the kind of kiss that could easily have turned into something more if Tobermory hadn’t started making that low, angry caterwauling noise that meant he was going to claw someone soon if he didn’t get his space on Ambrose’s lap back.
Liam sighed and pulled away, giving the cat space. “I still can’t believe my cat likes you better than he likes me.”
“In fairness, I’m an absolute catch, and Tobermory’s an excellent judge of character,” Ambrose said. The cat meowed his agreement and started kneading Ambrose’s lap, sharp claws digging in and making Ambrose glad of the protective layers of blanket. Just because Tobermory liked him didn’t mean Ambrose wasn’t sporting an impressive collection of incidental scratch marks. The ones on his backside were mostly healed, but it had been one hell of a shock and an absolute mood killer to have Tobermory suddenly sinking his claws into Ambrose’s naked arse while he was balls deep in Liam.
They’d laughed about it pretty hard afterwards, but they were also careful to keep the bedroom door closed now.
Ambrose was just debating whether there was time for him to coax Liam into bed for the afternoon when his phone buzzed where it was sitting on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with the word Mum.
For once it didn’t fill him with a low-level dread, and he tipped the protesting cat to the floor so he could take the call.
“Hey, Mum, what’s up?” Ambrose asked, and it was more of a relief than he liked to admit to know he didn’t have to brace himself. Her last trip to the hospital had resulted in Isadora coming down to stay for a couple of weeks and taking charge of the whole situation. Her application of polite but persistent pressure had resulted in Mum seeing a different doctor and getting a reassessment and adjustment of her medications, as well as finally agreeing to see a therapist, and all those things combined meant that she was on her way back to being her old self. Or rather, her new self—Ambrose didn’t think he’d ever really known his mum when she wasn’t a mess, to be honest. The road to recovery wasn’t linear, he was painfully aware of that, but it really did look like she’d finally turned a corner. She still loved recalling her glory days, because that was part of who she was, but she was trying her best and taking her meds and she seemed happier. That was all Ambrose could ask for.
“Ambrose! How did the audition go?”
“Pretty well, I think? They asked when I’d be available, so that’s a good sign, right?”
“It’s a very good sign,” she said, her voice alight with excitement. “I’m sure they’ll hire you. After all, excellence is in your genes!”
Ambrose rolled his eyes, but at the same time he was glad his mum’s meds hadn’t dampened her personality down to nothing, the way some of them did. “Well, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear. Did you need anything?”
