During the afternoon, they got the final framework on the third floor finished, a day ahead of schedule thanks to a spell of fine weather.
“Trusses tomorrow,” Terri said as she and Andrew packed up their gear.
Being one of the few construction groups to do everything but site prep, electrical and plumbing was one of the reasons Andrew liked working with McGregor. It meant they were on the job for more than one step of the whole build. He got to see the houses grow from the foundation to a finished building, with subcontractors doing the wiring, plumbing and internal fittings.
“This one is going to be over before we know it,” Andrew murmured, more to himself than Terri.
She heard him though and stopped dusting off her thick work gloves. The expression she turned on him was shrewd. “Sheridan does know you, doesn’t he?”
Stomach clenching, Andrew shook his head. “He doesn’t.” Not really. He knew a name on an application, that was all.
Terri snorted. “Keep feeding me that shit and I’ll make you walk home. Come on. You’re not here just to earn some money like the rest of us. This is the third one we’ve worked on together and I’ve never seen anyone get so invested in the builds.” She paused and the silence was heavy with innuendo. “Except for the hands-on architects.”
“I’m not an architect.” After three months of not even talking about it, he’d had to say it twice in one day. Maybe the third time was the charm and it would feel right then.
“Did I say you were?” Terri tucked her gloves away, picked up her esky and sauntered off towards her car, leaving behind a definite air of I’m-on-to-you.
Andrew’s stomach sank as he followed, convinced she was going to grill him on the ride home. But the closer they got to Labrador and the longer Terri didn’t push the matter, the worse Andrew felt. It wasn’t until they were bypassing some of the coastal traffic by taking Olsen Avenue and they drove by the hospital that Andrew understood the sickening sense of dread wasn’t about Terri prying.
Brian’s shift were ten hours, which meant he would be home not long after Andrew got there, and that . . . that didn’t feel good. For the first time in years, Andrew didn’t want to see Brian. Didn’t want to hear about his day, didn’t want to share in his joy in doing what he loved. And he could only blame himself for that. He couldn’t even share it with Elle and James and their insistence he be the best man, because he’d known it was coming. They all had. They’d barely even needed to announce it, except that maybe Troy had really thought he would be asked. Andrew had still let it get to him though.
“Drew! Million bucks for your thoughts.”
Terri’s finger snap more than the words caught Andrew’s attention. He flashed her a guilty look, then studied his work boots.
“You okay?” Terri asked seriously. “You’ve been kind of quiet today, and that’s saying something.”
“I’m fine. Just had a few drinks last night.” And told his best friend he loved him. Not even in a drunken “I love yous guys” way. A real hearts and rings kind of way. He’d be bloody lucky if Brian ever spoke to him again.
Terri grunted and instead of continuing straight ahead to Labrador, turned up Napper Road.
“Where are we going?” Andrew asked.
“My place. You’re clearly in need of therapy.”
“And I’ll get that at your place?”
“No, but the demons possessing my spare bedrooms will convince you that you do.”
Andrew laughed. “Does Mike know you call the kids that?”
“He’s the one who nailed the crosses to their doors.”
Terri’s partner, Mike, was an amazing chef and their kids, while energetic and loud, were good young people. Andrew liked spending time with them so agreeing was no hardship. Especially if it put off seeing Brian for a bit longer.
“Fuck.” Brian pulled his car into the driveway and waved at Elle. She was sitting on the front step to his and Andrew’s townhouse. She stood and waved back, smiling though it looked strained.
Tired and strung out from his first shift in accident and emergency, Brian really didn’t want to have to deal with anyone tonight. Especially not Elle. Hadn’t she done enough already?
He clicked the automatic garage door control and eased the Jag in once it was open. Elle trailed along after, tapping at her phone screen.
“How was your first day?” She put the phone away when he got out of the car.
Exciting. Disappointing. Fulfilling. Draining. “Good. Long, though. I’m not up for much tonight.” He leaned against the car and longed for the couch, a cold drink and a moment to process everything he’d seen, heard and shoved his hand into today.
She gave him an understanding smile. “I bet. This won’t take long. I meant to ask last night and it kind of got lost in everything else, but you know I would love to have the Jag as my wedding car, so . . . yes? No? Maybe?”
Relieved that was all she wanted, Brian nodded. “Sure. Of course. Might be a bit of a job getting a puffball dress into it but we’ll manage. I’ll be your driver, even.”
“Oh, thank you!” Elle threw her arms around him in a brief but tight hug. “You’re the coolest Jag owner there ever was. We’ll pay for any cleaning or detailing you want, of course. Before and after. And I’m planning sleek and sexy, not puffball.” She ran a hand down her curves and Brian agreed sleek would be perfect, and the white would be amazing with her Aboriginal heritage. “But James needs you as a groomsman so I was thinking my cousin Tyson could drive it?” She batted hopeful lashes at him.
It wasn’t like Brian was anal about who drove his car, but he sort of was. “We’ll see?”
“He offered to do test drives for you if you want.”
Not wanting this to drag out any longer than absolutely necessary, Brian said, “Fine.”
“Great. I’ll message him.” Out came the phone and tap tap went her thumbs. “I’ve been trying to reach Andrew all day and he hasn’t answered. I was worried about him last night. He hasn’t drunk that much in ages.”
“He hasn’t drunk anything at all since being diagnosed. And they’re not allowed to have their phones on them on the site.”
“I know, but usually he messages me during his lunch break or when they’re finished for the day.” Elle waved at the entrance to the house from the garage. “And he’s not home yet. Have you heard anything?”
Andrew should have been home an hour or so ago. Brian pulled his phone out of his satchel and turned it on. First day jitters—and post-last-night-freak-out—had made it easy for him to ignore his phone all day. He hadn’t wanted to piss off the doctors he was working with, and certainly hadn’t wanted to hear from Andrew. Not until he was ready to face him. Which he wasn’t sure about even now. It was almost a relief to realise Andrew wasn’t home.
There were no messages from Andrew. No missed calls. No forwarded memes. Nothing. It wasn’t like they always messaged throughout the day. A lot of the time they didn’t. But today’s silence felt weird, like there was this potential going ignored, or it was a building tension before a storm.