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Stuart shook his head. “Nope.”
“When… like, how far… how long have you… oh fuck.”
Stuart laughed. “She’s about six weeks along. We haven’t told anyone else yet.”
“Fucking hell. Congratulations. Oh my god.”
“That about sums up my feelings on it too, yeah.”
Stuart’s face lit up, and Jack felt something primal inside him stir; something that wanted to curl around Stuart and Darcey and protect them.
He was going to be an uncle.
“Holy shit, I’m going to be an uncle.”
Stuart laughed again. “And a godfather, too, if you want to be.”
Jack nodded. “Yeah. Of course. Yeah.”
Never one to shy away from his emotions, Jack grabbed Stuart by his jacket and hauled him into a hug.
“I’m so pleased for you.”
“Thanks. It’s taken… a while. You know. To get here.”
Jack nodded. He’d known that Stuart and Darcey wanted kids, and after they’d gotten married three years ago, everyone had assumed it would be on the cards sooner rather than later. On Stuart’s stag night there had been teasing about a honeymoon baby, but the honeymoon had come and gone, and they’d all waited, and waited, for news.
He wasn’t the sort of person to pry, and the one time he’d asked Stuart about it—in the pub, naturally—Stuart had just said they were trying. Jack had decided to leave it at that. Another man’s fertility was none of his business, even if they were practically brothers.
The bell over the door jingled, and Jack pulled out of the hug.
“Good morning,” he called, and the older couple nodded their hellos.
He’d let them poke around a bit before offering to help.
Stuart settled back in Jack’s comfy chair, and Jack leaned against the counter to finish his tea.
“So,” Stuart said easily. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing as exciting as what’s been happening in your house, apparently.”
Stuart had to turn his laugh into a cough when the older lady wandered over and asked for help with the selection of build-your-own-vehicles, and Stuart stayed behind the counter, looking smug, as Jack put his tea down to help them.
He sold them a train and a helicopter from the collection, then took the dirty mugs back to the kitchen sink to be washed up later.
“The guy across the street is a total arsehole, by the way,” Jack said, once his customers had left.
“The book shop? I saw that.”
“Yeah. How dare he?”
“Open a book shop for a few of weeks?” Stuart raised a ginger eyebrow. “How does that affect you?”
“You know I want to convert upstairs.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t.” Stuart shrugged. “Think of it as market research. You can sit here all day and see how much extra footfall you get because of the competition.”
“I don’t need competition,” Jack said, aware that he was whining and not caring at all. “It’s tough enough out there as it is.”
