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Dad joined them. “Cup of tea?”
“I’m good,” Jack said.
Dad sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “How’s the apprenticeship going?”
Jack wondered if this was an olive branch. “Really well. I’m going to take some courses at TAFE when it’s over, so that eventually I’ll be able to start my own business. But I think it’ll be good to stay where I am for a while, to learn as much as I can.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment, then Dad sighed again. “Jack, if I’ve ever made you feel that you failed to live up to our expectations, then I’m sorry.”
Jack jolted.
“And, even if I did,” Dad said, “those are my expectations, and I have no right to impose them on you. You’re your own person, and I’m very proud of that. It means we raised you right. We might have different definitions of success, but whatever you decide to do with your life, I’ll do my best to be happy for you, as long as you’re happy.”
Jack cleared his throat. “Thanks, Dad.”
His dad looked him up and down. “Although I have to say, I have concerns about your dress sense.”
Jack laughed. “This? It’s a long story.” Then he realised that maybe his dad needed to know it. “It’s Harry’s bad date suit. The zip on his good suit broke so I gave him mine, because he really wanted to make a good impression on you and Mum. It’s really important to him.”
Dad looked surprised, then impressed.
“Dad, I really care for him a lot. He’s special.”
“He must be, if you’re willing to go out in public wearing that.” Dad looked over to where Harry was now teaching the kids a clapping game. “Well, I’ll go and see if he wants a cup of tea, shall I?”
“Yeah,” Jack said, warmth spreading through him. “That’d be nice.”
There was dancing, after all. Mia in bare feet, and Tate wearing a grin as big as the universe. Mum and Dad. Aunt Cassie and Uncle Gavin, shuffling slowly in deference to his new hip. And Jack and Harry, hands held, swaying together.
“Oh,” said Harry, halfway through the song. “I forgot to say it before, what with everything.”
Jack raised his eyebrows.
“I love you too,” Harry said, and beamed.
Epilogue
Two months later
“Oh my God, it smells like a brothel in here. Somebody got some,” Tristan sing-songed.
Harry didn’t know what time it was, but the light was barely filtering round the edges of the curtain, so it was certainly too early for whatever the hell this was. He grunted and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow and hoping Tristan would get the hint. It didn’t work.
“Harry?” Tristan sat on the edge of the bed and prodded at him. “Wake up.”
“Nooo,” Harry grumbled. He hugged his bear tighter. He and Jack had gone out for Christmas drinks with Jack’s work last night. They hadn’t gotten in until two, and Jack had been tipsy and handsy, and that meant they’d played a whole different version of Oh come, all ye faithful. They hadn’t gone to sleep till after four. Whatever Tris wanted, it could wait.
Jack obviously felt the same. All that was showing of him was a blond thatch of hair poking out from under the top sheet. “Fuck off, Tris,” he mumbled.
Tristan huffed and pulled the sheet back, making Harry squawk and try to snatch it back. Tris might not care how many people saw his naked arse, but Harry was particular about who got to see his. “Wake up, puppies,” Tris insisted, then, when he got no response, sauntered over to the light switch and flicked it a few times. “Wake up!”
Trying to dissuade Tristan when he wanted something was like trying to dislodge a tick. A blond, stupidly gorgeous, tick. Harry groaned into the pillow then rolled over and sat up, the pleasant ache in his arse reminding him of what they’d done last night. He smiled despite his tiredness, because thinking about doing those sorts of things with Jack would always make him smile. He’d never understood the appeal of sex, right until he had, and now he was making up for lost time every chance he got. Jack joked that it might take years until Harry caught up. Harry hoped he was right. He’d probably never get enough of Jack—of his face, his smile, his laugh, his everything—and the fact that Jack felt the same still knocked Harry for a six sometimes.
He was dragged from his thoughts by the light switch continuing to flick on and off, and he sighed in surrender. “What do you want, Tris?”
Tristan smirked. “I wanted to give you your Christmas present, and I knew the only way I could be sure you two weren’t fucking was if I caught you while you were asleep. Hang on.”
He darted out the bedroom door.
