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Mia sighed. “Have you talked to him?”
“No. I came home from work and he was gone. I’ve messaged him a bunch but he hasn’t replied, and I don’t want to turn up on his doorstep like some weird gaslighty boyfriend who goes over there to tell him he shouldn’t be upset. He should be upset. I’m a shit boyfriend.”
Mia’s silence was telling.
“You are!” Tristan said brightly from the doorway.
Jack twisted around. “How long have you been eavesdropping?”
“Since your phone rang.” Tristan smiled. “Hi, Mia!”
“Is that Tristan?” she asked, then yelled, right into Jack’s ear, “Hi, Tristan!”
“Put her on speaker,” Tris demanded, then sat down on the couch beside Jack. He tugged the hem of his kimono down. “Is this a boyfriend intervention? Because I have lots of things I want to say.”
“Have you ever even been in a relationship?”
Tris rolled his eyes. “Lots. Hundreds, probably.”
Jack sighed. “Have you ever been in a relationship that lasted longer than a night?”
“Excuse you, it’s about quality,” Tris said. “Not longevity. And trust me, I don’t get any complaints.”
Well, that was weirdly true. Maybe he actually knew more than he let on.
“So, I’ve been around the block a few times,” Tristan said. “And so have you, Jack, because, well, look at you. And you too, Mia.”
“I am the family slut,” she agreed. “Before I met Tate, anyway.”
“Can you stop saying that?” Jack groaned.
“Absolutely not,” Mia said.
“Stop stealing Jack’s slutty thunder,” Tristan said.
“No! That’s not the reason!” Jack slumped back on the couch. “Jesus.”
“I just like making you confront your internalised slut-shaming,” Mia said. “It’s good for you, and entertaining for me.”
Jack sighed. “Can we get back on track? I was going to tell Mum and Dad I’m dating Harry after the wedding, which was always the plan, remember?”
Mia hummed thoughtfully.
“I love all this drama,” Tristan said. “It’s very exciting. It’s like a little soap opera, isn’t it?”
“You’re not helping,” Jack said.
Tris grinned. “Oh, were you under the impression I was here to help?” He cackled. “No, I’m here to offer opinions. And my opinion is that yes, you’re a shit boyfriend, but that Harry will probably forgive you if you make some grand romantic gesture, because that boy is a literal puppy and you’re his catnip.” He screwed up his nose and brushed a wispy blond curl off his face. “Mixed metaphor, but you get what I’m saying.”
Jack wasn’t sure that he did. “What kind of gesture?” At this stage he was open to suggestions, even if they did come from Tris.
“Harry has learned everything he knows about romance from romcoms,” Tristan said. “Maybe you should chase him to the airport?”
“Why would he be going to the airport?”
“Probably just flowers then,” Tristan said. “And a big teddy bear.”
Jack shook his head. “Flowers won’t cut it. We already did that.”
