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“What?” Bryce furrowed his brows at Cole’s question, his grin not dimming.
He leaned in close and replied, “Got me off so that I wouldn’t be freaking out about meeting your parents.”
Bryce barked out a laugh and wrapped his arm around Cole’s shoulder in a bro-hug. “No, but call it a happy coincidence.”
They rounded the corner into a large indoor-outdoor room with the furniture pushed to the side and two groups of joined tables surrounded by an assortment of chairs and stools. Kids played in the pool and the adults mingled, walking between groups of people, some sitting, some standing.
A slim man with salt-and-pepper hair, who only reached Cole’s shoulder, made his way over to them. “You must be Cole,” he said with a smile that was uncannily similar to Bryce’s. He extended his hand and Cole gripped it, surprised at the strength there. “I’m his dad. Everyone calls me Mal.”
Cole swallowed hard, the nervous butterflies erupting in his belly. So much for not being freaked out. “Nice to meet you, Mr Flaharty,” he squeaked. “This is for you.” He held out the gift bag with the bottle of wine he’d bought. The older man barked out a laugh, the same laugh as Bryce, and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Jenny’s going to like you, but please don’t call her Mrs Flaharty. Doc or Jen only or she’ll rouse on you—she always says that Mrs Flaharty is my mother and they never got along.” He leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “My mother thought she corrupted me.” With that, he turned and yelled out, “Jen, we have another guest.”
He looked to Bryce wide-eyed, and his lover chuckled, his arm never loosening his grip around Cole’s shoulders. He steered him to the kitchen where a blonde-haired woman with a generous bosom and an apron around her waist that said “I’d rather be reading” was lifting a monstrous turkey out of the oven.
“Shit, Mum, let me help.” Bryce stepped forward, reaching for the steaming tray, and was met with her back when she spun agilely.
“No,” she snapped, her tone a clear warning. “It’s hot. Bryce, when are you going to learn that you can’t just grab things straight from the oven.”
Cole stopped short, watching the exchange between them. He’d thought that there was a familial resemblance between Bryce and his dad, but he was the spitting image of his mum.
Bryce rolled his eyes and grinned mischievously. “At least one more time, Mum.” He went back to Cole and nudged his shoulder with his own while his mum put the tray down on a thick timber board. “Mum, I’d like you to meet Cole.”
Tossing the oven mitts she’d been wearing to the side, and wiping her hands on the apron, Bryce’s mum sauntered over with a smile that lit up her features. Holding her hand out to shake, she exclaimed, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cole. Thank you for celebrating with us.”
“No, thank you, Dr Flaharty.” He screwed up his nose, wincing at how Bryce’s eyes widened. “Mr Flaharty told me to call you Doc. Sorry if I got it wrong.”
She snorted out a laugh and closed her other hand around their combined ones. “Jen or Jenny is fine. Same with Mal. We aren’t at all formal.”
He nodded, still a little awkward and unsure of what to say. It was a good thing he’d brought an icebreaker. He held out the bottle of wine. “This is something small to say thank you for having me today.”
She took it, gushing about how sweet he was. It was the least he could do given he didn’t even know them.
His mum shooed them out of the kitchen and Bryce guided them around the outskirts of the conversations, introducing Cole to all the important people in his life—his brothers and their partners, his aunts and uncles, cousins and friends—and Cole marvelled at how friendly everyone was, and at how much they laughed together. Everyone was smiling like one of those TV special happy families. Truth be told, he’d never been more envious. He’d once had that himself. But it was stolen away, ripped from him before he could appreciate just how incredible it was.
“You’re frowning again,” Bryce whispered conspiratorially.
“Just thinking.” He left off who he was thinking about. He didn’t need to drag Bryce’s mood down. Bryce’s expression softened, his smile sad. He leaned in, pressing their shoulders together in a pseudo hug, one that Cole wanted to sink into.
The big guy might always be smiling, but he was perceptive too. Or maybe he’d opened up enough to Ava and Bryce that they could read him.
“Yo, Bryce, your other friend’s here,” his brother called out, motioning to the lounge room where a woman was depositing some presents under the tree.
Ten
Ava
A
va knocked on the door of the unassuming house in the suburbs. It was probably thirty years old. Single storey, the warm grey bricks and dark roof contrasted. Set in a tropical jungle-like garden, there was every kind of palm tree she could imagine, flowers in all colours of the rainbow and lush grass. She walked up the drive, hearing the party out back—laughter and loud talking, kids’ happy squeals, and Christmas carols.
Ava blew out a breath. This was it.
Nerves fluttered around in her belly. It wasn’t normal to meet the parents of the man she’d had a one-night stand with, much less a threesome. But here she was.
She pressed the doorbell and waited.
When the door swung open, Ava plastered on a polite smile. But it wasn’t Bryce who appeared. His brother, perhaps, or another relative. The blond man who greeted her looked vaguely familiar, but she struggled to place him. “Hi.” He was holding beer bottles and had a bottle of wine tucked under each arm. “I’m Levi. Guessing you’re Bryce’s friend. Sorry, I’d shake your hand but—”
