Instantly sorry he’d pushed, Andrew’s hands curled into tight fists. “He really said that?” The anger at the implicit racism boiled in his veins.
“He really did.” The corner of James’s mouth turned up in a wicked little smile. “Mum gave him an absolute blasting for it. Me and Elle just sat there in awe. She called the pastor all sorts of things guaranteed to get her banned from just about any church anywhere. Then she’s all ‘love is love!’ and storms out. It was magical. Afterwards, Elle tried to tell mum that the ‘love is love’ phrase was for queer love, and mum didn’t care. She just keeps saying ‘love is love,’ like it’s the only possible answer.”
Andrew forced a chuckle. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have had to. Mrs. Rollins, James’s mum, was to all appearances a sweet, petite woman who never raised her voice. Andrew, James, Brian and Troy knew otherwise. She was a loving but firm mother, and fiercely protective of not just her own son, but his friends as well. However, things were far from normal now, for Andrew at least. Would Mrs. Rollins stand up and declare ‘love is love’ if Andrew came out to his friends and family?
“Anyway, mum likes the celebrant we chose, and she’s overloading Elle with ideas on how to decorate the Broadwater Chapel by the Sea.” James smiled, even though its edges were still touched with sadness. “It’s all good now. Right, let’s talk bach party. Where’s Brian? Should he be part of this?”
“He’s over at Carly’s.” Andrew concentrated on petting Archy’s belly, on the lookout for the inevitable switch from “yes, that’s it, slave, rub my tummy” to “how dare thou toucheth the sacred personage of thy betters?!”
“You two have a spat?”
The tone was joking but Andrew didn’t have the energy or heart to pretend.
“Yup.”
James sat back, surprised. “What about?”
The fact Andrew couldn’t follow through on his declaration of love. “Archy’s name.”
“You mean how it’s really Tolstoy.”
“It’s Archimedes.”
Archy looked between them, then batted at Andrew’s still hand.
“See, he responds to his name.” Andrew resumed his scratching.
“Only because you’re risking life and limb to pat his belly. Look, he’s Russian, not Greek or German.”
“Austrian.”
“Huh?”
“Schrodinger was Austrian. Not German.”
“Whatever. You know what you need?”
To not have messed up the best friendship he’d ever had by falling in love with Brian and then telling him that. “What’s that?”
“To get laid.”
Andrew laughed. Did he confess he almost got laid by his own hand, but Archy wank-blocked him?
“I’m serious, man,” James insisted. “It’ll do you the world of good. You wouldn’t care what Brian called the cat afterwards. I’ll introduce you to a couple of the girls on the ski team on Sunday. Maybe you’ll hit it off with someone.”
“I don’t think so.”
“No harm, right?”
“What about Brian?”
“Sure. I’ll introduce him around too. Not that it will do much good.”
Andrew looked up from Archy. “What does that mean?”
Shrugging, James took a swig of beer and then focused on the label. “Nothing.”
“No. You said it. It means something, so what?”
“Shit. Um, Elle swore me to secrecy.”
“James.” Andrew’s stomach churned. What the hell had Elle told him about Brian that had James so hedgy?
“Look, it’s not a big deal, right? If Brian’s gay it doesn’t change anything. He’s still our mate.”
Brian groaned in absolute ecstasy. “Fuuuuuck, yeah. Just like that. Don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” Carly said.
“Promise?”
She laughed and dug her fingers into his hair, continuing the scalp massage. “You’re a needy bitch tonight. Ready to tell me what’s going on with you and Andrew?”
“Too blissy. No bad stuff now.” Brian sagged against couch he sat in front of. Behind him, Carly was cross-legged on the seat, and on Brian’s lap was her dog, Noodle, a greyhound rescue who thought she was a lapdog.
He should have come here straight after work. Not gone home to get upset and say that terrible thing to Andrew. Crap, Brian needed to apologise, but just looking at Andrew made him all anxious and confused right now. He’d almost kissed him. Had wanted to kiss him and what the hell did that mean? Andrew said he was in love with him but acted like the idea of sex with Brian was weird. And Brian wanted to kiss him but wasn’t in love with him. He loved him, sure. They were best friends, had been for most of their lives. Andrew was . . . no, he wasn’t like a brother. Brian had brothers, two fairly older ones he’d never been close to. Bradley had been out of home, working in Perth when Brian was growing up, and John in high school, then off to uni in Canberra and now worked as a large animal vet in rural New South Wales. They didn’t really keep in touch. Andrew wasn’t a brother. He was better than that. More.
“Hey.” Carly’s soft prod to his cheek woke him up. “You’re tensing up again. Stop thinking bad thoughts.”
Brian groaned and forced his shoulders to relax. “Sorry. It’s not you or your fantastic massage skills.”
“I know that.” Carly slithered out from behind him and went into the kitchen. “I do, after all, have magic fingers. You’re just being incredibly stubborn tonight.”
Noodle lifted her head to watch Carly, then let it drop back into Brian’s lap. He scratched the top of her long, narrow head and she squirmed in deeper, sighing contentedly.
“How many carbs do you want tonight?” Carly asked as the enticing aroma of baked cheese came out of her kitchen.
“All of them.”
“No wonder you’re cranky with Andrew. If he didn’t let me eat carbs they’d never find the body.”
Brian chuckled but it was empty. It wasn’t carbs he was missing. Coaxing Noodle off him, Brian got up and set the table.
“Troy’s coming over.” Carly handed him another set of silverware over the kitchen counter.
“Of course he is. Probably smelt the food from his place.”
The twins had lived together when Troy first returned from Sydney, but the moment Troy had got the job at H2GO and started earning money, Carly had helped him find his own place. Or rather, she’d found it for him, conned James, Andrew and Brian into moving all of her brother’s stuff and when he came home that night, handed him the keys. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her brother, it was just that she preferred her own space. She needed her NHC—no human contact—days and Troy, despite most signs to the contrary, was human.
“Foooood!” announced Troy’s arrival just as Carly was dishing out tuna mornay and garlic bread. There was a skittering of nails on tiles as Noodle hurried to greet him at the door, followed by a lot of scuffling, snorts and happy yips.
“Hurry up or it’ll be cold,” Carly called over the noise.