Chapter Twenty-Eight

TRACY INSISTED on Daniel coming over for a meal, so I drove us there with only a brief warning to him as we got out of the car.

“Our mums don’t know anything about us. Okay?”

He didn’t appear shocked at the news.

Tracy welcomed Ambrose back “home” as if he’d been gone for a month, not eight days. My mother was already tucked into a chair at the kitchen counter with a glass of white wine in front of her. I’d had the whole day to ponder the “did my father help buy my house” scenario and was still unsure what I was going to do about it.

At the end of the meal, when Tracy found out Daniel had spent the previous night on my couch—which begged the question of where did Ambrose sleep—she insisted he stay with her.

I was dispatched to make the twenty-minute journey back to my house and pack up Daniel and Ambrose’s gear and return it to Tracy’s. It felt sad and wrong to strip my little house of Ambrose’s clothes, but I stuffed them into some bags and drove back.

And then I was made to stay too.

Remember when I said I could rob a bank and no one would notice? Well, I’d probably get stuck robbing the bank because the conversation would go like this:

Bank Teller: How can I help you today, sir?

Me: This is a robbery. Give me all your money.

Bank Teller: I’m sorry, I can’t do that for you. Would you like to open a new account with us instead?

Me: Oh. Okay. No problem. Sorry to bother you.

Ambrose told me I was staying, Daniel backed him up, and that was the end of the argument.

Daniel sacked out in a guest room near Ambrose’s bedroom. Tracy’s other guest room was actually a pool house, but we didn’t bother with that. Apart from none of us wanting to go out there, Ambrose and I preferred our shared bed, and Daniel knew it.

I made breakfast for four the following morning, and Ambrose dropped me in it. It was a huge drop and a huge bucket filled with yucky stuff too.

“Daniel’s leaving to go back to Melbourne tonight. He has work tomorrow morning. And I have to head back too, probably Tuesday. The coach is getting antsy about my recovery. Apparently I’m not taking care of myself, and the team doctor wants to oversee.”

“Oh. That’s a shame, Ambrose. I thought you’d be around for a little longer.” Tracy was disappointed.

“I’ll be back when the season’s over—about six weeks if I can swing it. And I’ve asked Shane to come and live with me in Melbourne, so I’m hoping he’ll come over and check it out. Then we can come back in September and pack up his place.”

The statement was so unexpected that I froze and stared at Daniel across the table. He was frozen too, and flicked his eyes between Ambrose and Tracy without turning his head.

I wasn’t game to look at either Ambrose or Tracy. I could feel the tips of my ears burning. I had a mouthful of egg but was afraid to swallow lest I choke on it. Why the hell did Ambrose not give me any warning? And why was he coming out to his mother now?

“Oh. Why would you want Shane to live with you?” Tracy’s tone was puzzled.

“Because I like him, I miss him, he keeps me focused, and I want him to come.” From my peripheral vision, I saw Ambrose push another forkful of bacon into his mouth. Dan’s gaze finally hit mine and held. He widened his eyes slightly and raised his brows as though he were asking me a question. Was it “Did you know about this conversation?” Or was it “Are you okay with him putting it in those terms?”

I felt my face slowly morph into a wince. It was awkward. No, I didn’t know about the conversation, and it didn’t really sound romantic, did it? But actually I was okay with that. I liked Ambrose too—and missed him. I did want to go to Melbourne. Could I take the gamble?

There was a heartbeat as Tracy digested the information. I chanced a look and wished I hadn’t. She was looking at me with a questioning expression. She probably could see the red ears I was sporting and was trying to figure out why.

Finally she said, “You boys always had a special relationship Elaine and I could never figure out. You two were so different, yet….”

Then suddenly I could see a certain knowledge enter her eyes. There was no outrage or shock, just more of a could-this-really-be-true?

“I haven’t said I’ll go,” I said quickly. I didn’t know who I was talking to, Ambrose or Tracy.

Ambrose put down his fork. “Oh, come on, Shane. What do you have here that you’re holding on to so tightly? A job you hate? A future that’s devoid of anything interesting? You have no boyfriend, and nothing to look forward to. And you have to admit that both of us have been miserable.”

“But—” There had to be a but in there somewhere. “But what future do I have with you? What do I get in Melbourne that I don’t get in Perth? I’m still in the same boat over there. Only I have no job and nothing to look forward to.”

Ambrose shook his head. “No. You’ll be with me, and we’ll be making a future for ourselves. Together. Like we should’ve always been. I should’ve had the courage ages ago to tell you. We’re happier together. I only have a couple more years of football in me at the most. Then we’re going to do stuff together. Because you know you’ll come with me. And you’ll end up having fun. But if you’re left in your lonely house, you’ll never do it. I have plans—big plans. And in all of them, you’re with me.”

Was Ambrose really declaring this all in front of his mother and Daniel? As though it were obvious and he were annoyed he actually had to verbalize it?

And then I realized something. That was Ambrose.

He didn’t view love and relationships and even sexual orientation like I was used to people talking about. I was used to reading books where grand gestures and definitive statements made it romantic, even if the couple still had to figure out how they were going to make it work. The love I had seen was with my friends—the dating, the dizziness of new beginnings, the anguish of making the declaration of love. Perhaps it was Ambrose’s lack of a father figure or maybe our joint lack of fathers in general that made our relationship different.

We already knew we could live together. We were like a pair of comfortable old slippers. And we’d been together most of our lives—twenty-two years and counting. Our relationship had already endured. I didn’t need the grand gestures. I was uncomfortable in the spotlight.

The declaration was pure Ambrose. Let’s just get it over with so I can go back to football. And yes—even his mother and best friend being at the same table was Ambrose too. He wasn’t one for shame or secrets.

I stared at him. I needed to make a decision. Say no to the man my heart couldn’t forget to love in all those years? I remembered what Jamie said about not being able to tell your heart to stop beating.

And it was kind of romantic to pack up your whole life and simply move to Melbourne.

“Do you love me?”

The words slipped from my mouth, and I was horrified. I wasn’t into begging for affection. And nothing between Ambrose and me had ever suggested we were into whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears. But I needed to know, even if the answer was no.

Dan made a scoffing noise, and it distracted me.

All eyes turned Daniel’s way.

“Oh, sorry. That was such a dumb question that I couldn’t help myself.” He waved a hand. “Please. Continue.”

I was offended, and it took a lot to offend me.

“No,” I said. “Please, you continue. What part of my question was dumb?”

“Only the first four words,” Daniel said happily.

I narrowed my eyes. “There were only four words.”

Daniel’s eyes danced in response. “Oh. I guess the whole question was dumb, then.”

“Elaborate,” I demanded.

Daniel shot a look at Ambrose, who was sitting there with a little grin on his face. With a nod of permission from Ambrose, Daniel turned back to me.

“I’ve known Ambrose for nine years. And in those nine years we’ve had to do a lot of things just because Ambrose loved you. I don’t know how many bookstores we’ve passed and Ambrose just had to drop in and have a look around in case there was something Shane would like. Or the time where we stood in line for two hours surrounded by teenybopper fans just so he could get an autograph on some poster for you. The shirts he saw and would say to me, ‘Do you think Shane would like that?’ Or the times he would ring me up and say, ‘Hey. I bought Shane this figurine off eBay and need to drive out to Bendigo to pick it up. Do you feel like a trip?’”

A feeling of ice started to run through my veins. I knew exactly which present Daniel was speaking of in each of those scenarios. Why had I never seen that Ambrose did that for me?

But Daniel wasn’t finished.

“When we were playing together, Ambrose would come off the field and head straight for his phone. ‘I just want to see what Shane says’ was a refrain Sean and I heard a lot. The other one was ‘When Shane comes to visit, we should bring him here’ after we’d visited a nice restaurant. I used to hate you.”

I was taken aback. “Hate me? Why?”

“Because Ambrose would always talk about you coming to visit, and you never did. I used to think you were a really big arsehole.”

Ambrose choked on air. “What?”

Daniel turned. “Yes. Sean and I both thought this Shane guy you talked about all the time was some arsehole who was leading you on and lying to you. But then, as time went on, we realized you hadn’t really asked him. I remember the day you said you thought Shane would love that South American–style restaurant that opened over in Albert Park. So I asked you if you’d even invited Shane to come and visit, and do you know what you said?”

Three people at the table all held their breath waiting for his answer.

“You said something like, ‘Yeah. Shane knows he can come and visit me anytime.’ It was then I understood. You’d never specifically asked him to come and visit because you wanted him. It was more an open invitation. It was then I asked myself whether you even realized how much you loved him.”

I was watching Ambrose’s face, so I caught the guilty look. Ambrose dropped his eyes and looked infinitely sad for a moment.

“Why didn’t you say anything to him?” Tracy asked suddenly.

It was Daniel’s turn to look guilty. He bowed his head and muttered, “You can’t come out while playing footy. Not if you want to keep playing.”

Tracy’s exclamation shocked us all. “That’s utter bullshit.”

“Mum.” Ambrose’s word was a warning to calm down. But Tracy was on the warpath. Something that was important to her only son was in jeopardy, and Tracy would knock heads, work three jobs, or threaten school principals when it came to Ambrose.

Tracy turned to her son. “Don’t you ‘Mum’ me. What utter shit is this that you can’t come out while playing footy? If you’re gay, then that’s bloody fine, and you can do whatever the hell you want. They try and sideline you, I’ll have Elaine on the case, and they’ll be up in front of the courts on discrimination before they can say the words ‘legal proceedings.’”

“Mum,” Ambrose tried again. “For a start I’m not gay. I like both men and women, so you settle down on that score. But secondly I knew what Dan meant. He didn’t mean the team would sideline me for coming out.”

Dan rushed in to defend his club. “Hell, no. I meant that the media scrutiny would be bloody and fierce. There’s no way you could concentrate on a football career with every camera in the state waiting to catch you out. There’s already enough shit that flies around from the crowd at times about you being indigenous. You don’t want the double whammy.”

“Exactly,” Ambrose said. “Not to mention there would definitely be some guys in the club who would have strong feelings about it, so they’d start acting funny, and next thing you know the club would have a real issue on their hands.”

“And everyone’s worried about ‘The Issue,’” Daniel said, using his hands to indicate the quotes, “and no one is playing football.”

“And I just want to play football and not deal with that crap.”

Ambrose’s sentence summed him up. Ambrose just wanted to play football.

How many times had I heard that in my life? “Algebra’s dumb, Shane. I just want to play football. I don’t need to clean my room. I just want to play football. I hate summer when there’s no games on. I just want to play football.”

Daniel and Ambrose grinned at each other, the friendship between them obvious.

Maybe another man would be jealous, but I wasn’t, because Ambrose loved me. I was finally coming to see, recognize, and accept that Ambrose would be with me.

Tracy cleared her throat. “Well, now. Water under the bridge. So the big question remains, Shane, are you going to move to Melbourne?”

I noticed how no one asked me if I loved Ambrose. Maybe I was too obvious. Maybe he was too loveable, and no one could possibly see how I wouldn’t love him.

“I just have one more question before I say yes. And it’s a big one. I’m really sorry, Ambrose.”

I leaned forward and made sure his attention was focused on me. Then I asked, “Do you have a spare room in your house? Is it big enough for all my books?”