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Ambrose opened the door a crack, letting in a shaft of light. “Jack’s here.”
Harry flung the blankets off. “Wha’ time’s it?”
“Almost midnight,” Ambrose said. “Do you want me to buzz him up, or tell him to fuck off?”
“No, let him up.” Harry stood and shuffled to the door. He pulled it open all the way and blinked in the light from the hallway. Then, when everything was still blurry, he went back for his glasses. He tugged his T-shirt straight as he stepped out of the room, and wrinkled his nose at his pyjama pants, which had cartoon monsters on them. He had no idea what was appropriate attire for a middle-of-the-night serious talk with his boyfriend, but probably not this. His heart raced and his chest clenched. What was Jack going to say? Would he want to end things between them because Harry had no idea what he was doing? Maybe Jack was fed up with his naivety. Maybe he wanted a boyfriend who was casual and relaxed instead of weird and needy. Maybe he wanted a boyfriend who knew how to do more than exchange kisses and handjobs and who didn’t run off when he was upset.
Ambrose had returned his phone before they’d gone to bed and Harry had listened to Jack’s voicemails—a string of apologies and weirdly, an offer to get pizza—but he hadn’t replied, because he honestly didn’t know what to say and he’d fallen asleep while he was still figuring it out. Maybe giving Ambrose his phone had been a bad idea, and Jack was here because he was pissed at the lack of response and wanted to tell Harry in person.
There was a knock at the front door and Harry took a deep breath before opening it. At least if Jack was dumping him, he had the decency to do it face to face.
A furry brown face wearing lopsided round glasses greeted him. Harry blinked, confused, and the—bear, it was a giant stuffed bear and it was adorable—was lowered, and Jack’s face came into view. He looked like shit, and at least as miserable as Harry felt. So why was it that just the sight of him made Harry’s mouth curl up into a smile?
Jack broke the silence. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah.” Harry stepped back and Jack thrust the bear at him.
“This is for you. It’s, um. It’s an apology.”
Harry held the bear at arm’s length and examined it. It was definitely an olive branch. A very large, very bear-shaped olive branch. The part of Harry that was romantically inclined wanted to melt, but the more cynical part of him couldn’t help but wonder if the bear was in lieu of an actual apology. And maybe it was because it was late and he had a sugar hangover, but the cynicism won out. “Oh, you get all your one-night stands stuffed toys?” he muttered and felt like an arsehole as soon as he said it.
Jack’s hangdog expression was heartbreaking.
“Excuse me.” Tristan squeezed past Jack. “He tried to make me wait in the car.” He wandered off towards the living room. “Ambrose, hi!”
Ambrose raised his eyebrows. “Hey, Tris. Why are you here again?”
The roar of blood in Harry’s skull as he stared at Jack drowned out whatever Tristan’s answer was.
“Harry,” Jack said, then stopped and swallowed. He cleared his throat and began again. “Harry, would you please be my plus one to Mia and Tate’s wedding this weekend?”
Harry’s jaw dropped.
“Because you’re not a nobody,” Jack said. “You’re somebody. You’re my somebody, and I want you to meet my family as my boyfriend.” He gave a crooked grin but it wavered, as though he wasn’t sure of himself. “Just, maybe don’t tip water over my dad this time?”
Harry stared, mouth open, until a fingertip landed on his chin and snapped his jaw shut and Tristan said, “Just say yes. I can’t take it when my puppies are sad.”
“Fuck off, Tris,” they both said at once.
Tris fucked off.
Jack took a hesitant step forward and cupped Harry’s cheek gently. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was a selfish dick and I never should have lied about you. Forgive me?”
Warmth blossomed in Harry’s chest at Jack’s touch, and he felt a flutter of hope that maybe this wasn’t hopeless after all, that maybe Jack was doing the right thing. “I thought your family hated me and we had to wait till after the wedding?”
Jack shrugged. “Is it even a wedding if there isn’t some kind of drama?”
Harry looked at his toes. “I don’t want to be drama, Jack.”
Jack caught his hands. “It’s okay. Mia’s going to tell Mum and Dad everything beforehand. They’ll know you’re not really a terrible person.”
Harry met his gaze, his heart flip-flopping in his chest. “But, won’t that ruin her wedding?”
Jack gave another lopsided grin. “She doesn’t give a shit. She’s going to tell them about the baby as well. May as well hang for a sheep as for a lamb, right?”
“I’ve never understood that saying,” Tristan said. “Ow!” He glared at Ambrose and rubbed at a spot on his ribs. Ambrose just hooked a hand in his collar and dragged him off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving them alone.
Harry ignored them, too busy searching Jack’s face and finding nothing but sincerity there. “You really did fuck up,” he said, “but so did I. I should have stayed and talked to you, but I was upset and I needed to get it figured out in my head first, or I would have said the wrong thing. But I should have told you that, instead of not saying anything at all.”
