Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Ambrose

A mbrose couldn't remember the last time he'd tried to make a good impression, but he was pretty sure it started with being early, so on Saturday night he arrived outside the restaurant in George Street, The Rocks, a whole fifteen minutes before Liam had said to meet him there. Then, because he felt awkward standing outside on the street, he sent Liam a text saying he'd meet him inside at the bar.

He went inside and ordered a Coke.

The restaurant was nice. It was small but upscale, with soft lighting and a classy marriage of new fixtures inside a very old heritage setting. It didn't have the harbour views of the place that Liam worked at, but the plates being brought out from the kitchen were impractically large and square, and the portions were small and delicately arranged, tiny little towers of food, so Ambrose was sure the prices were just as exorbitant.

He sat on a stool at the bar and sipped his Coke. His phone buzzed, and he checked his messages. It was from Liam, saying he was running a few minutes late, but he'd be there soon. Ambrose didn't mind. He'd already been paid half upfront.

He glanced around the restaurant, and accidentally caught the eye of a short, round, red-headed woman sitting at a nearby table. She saw that he was holding his phone, and picked hers up and waved it at him, in some secret signal that Ambrose completely failed to comprehend. Then she pushed her chair back, ignoring her companions, and bustled over to him.

"Hello," she said brightly, her sparkling green eyes wide and curious. "You wouldn't be Ambrose, would you? Liam's Ambrose?"

"Oh, yes." Ambrose said, standing. "That's me."

He held out his hand to shake, and she bypassed it completely and hugged him.

"I'm Fiona," she said once she let go. "Fiona Connelly, Liam's mum. You can call me Fiona, or Fi, or even Mum, but don't tell Liam I said that, because he already thinks I'm overbearing." She hooked her elbow through his. "Now come and meet the family!"

Ambrose didn't even have time to grab his Coke before he was being swept over to the rest of the Connellys.

"This is my husband, William," Fiona said, gesturing to a tall man with dark greying hair who looked like an older version of Liam and appeared to be about halfway through a very successful transition into a silver fox. "He goes by Will. And his father, Billy, Liam's grandad."

Billy was in his post-silver fox stage of life, given the way the lights shone on the top of his bald head. He looked to be in his mid-seventies, but there wasn't a hint of frailty about him, and his grip, when he shook Ambrose's hand, was as solid as his stocky build .

"Nice to meet ya," he said with a grin. "You can call me Grandad Billy. Everyone else does."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Ambrose replied.

"And Liam's sisters," Fiona said. "Bridget, Neve and Riley."

The two oldest were gorgeous and dark-haired like their father and brother. The youngest one was a redhead like her mother. They were stuck on the other side of the table, so Ambrose had to make do with waves and a chorus of hellos.

"And this is Orhan, Bridget's husband," Fiona said. "And their adorable little one, Balian."

"Hi," Orhan said, jiggling a surprisingly chill baby in his lap. Orhan was good-looking, with hair as dark as ink, cheekbones to die for and black-rimmed glasses that made him look like a sexy librarian. "Great to meet you."

"Oh, and Marcus should be here soon," Fiona said, as though Ambrose had any clue who that was.

"Marcus is my boyfriend. He's an investment banker, and he works some crazy hours," Neve said. "He's running late, but I'm sure he'll make it." She reached for her glass of wine.

"Oh," Ambrose said, his head still spinning a little from the rapid introductions. Winemakers and investment bankers. He was out of his depth here, but at least everyone seemed nice. He took a seat next to Fiona. "That sounds really interesting."

"It's super boring," Riley the teenage redhead said. "You don't need to be polite."

Ambrose leaned over the table and said, in his loudest stage-whisper, "I know, but I'm trying to make a good impression."

The Connellys all roared with laughter, except for the chill baby, who just sat in his dad's lap and continued to be chill. Even Neve laughed, so Ambrose didn't feel too bad about disparaging her absent boyfriend's career choice.

A waiter brought Ambrose's Coke and set it on the table.

"Thank you," Ambrose said, fighting his first instinct, which was to upend the contents of the glass all over everything. Wow. Being a professional bad boyfriend had really ruined him when it came to nice restaurants. A dress code and some softly playing classical music, and that was apparently enough to jumpstart his Pavlovian response to be a total dick. He'd have to watch that tonight. And in the future, if he ever wanted to go on a date with anyone for real.

"So, Ambrose," Fiona said, showing him a brilliant smile. "Tell us all about you . Where are you from? What are your plans for the future?"

This was the part where Ambrose usually would have lied, but he stomped down on the urge just in time. "Oh," he said. "I'm living in Newtown right now, for uni, but I grew up in Macquarie Fields." He gave them all a moment to judge him for that and was almost surprised when it didn't happen. "My mum still lives there. I have one sister. She lives in Brisbane now. She's an accountant."

He wasn't even sure why he was mentioning that, unless it was to give himself some respectability by proxy. Fiona showed him an encouraging smile, urging him to continue.

"I'm studying Drama," he said.

Her face lit up. "Oh, I love the theatre! I'm always telling Will we need to come down for more shows, but he hates them, don't you, Will?"

"Hate is a very strong word, Fi," Will said. His expression was stern, but he couldn't hold it. He sighed and gave an apologetic shrug. "Yeah, sorry, Ambrose, I hate the theatre."

"What do you hate about it?" Ambrose asked curiously .

"The seats are uncomfortable, and there's no popcorn," Will said.

Ambrose raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so it's not the shows you hate, it's the actual theatre itself."

"If they can put armchairs in cinemas, they should be able to put more comfortable chairs in theatres," Will said. "And allow popcorn."

Ambrose was fascinated and delighted. Where had Will Connelly been that his arse had objected so strongly? He was about to ask, when suddenly he became aware of movement over his shoulder. He glanced over and saw Liam approaching at a rush, looking wide-eyed and frantic as he realised that Ambrose had already met his family.

"Hi, babe," Ambrose said with a grin, patting the empty seat beside him. "You made it! What was the hold up?"

"Oh," Liam said, sitting down heavily. He looked rumpled and flustered. "My study group ran late, then when I finally got out, my bike had a flat tyre." He looked around the table suspiciously, then back to Ambrose. "I see you've met everyone."

"Yeah," Ambrose said, and beamed at the Connellys as they beamed back at him. Liam's hand was resting on the table, so he reached out and took it and threaded their fingers together. Liam, to his credit, didn't flinch, but his fingers twitched against Ambrose's, and Ambrose squeezed them. "We haven't got to your embarrassing childhood stories or the baby pictures yet, so don't worry."

Liam shot him a panicked glance, so Ambrose squeezed his fingers again.

"Your father was just telling Ambrose his thoughts on the theatre," Fiona said to Liam with a bright grin.

"Oh, Jesus," Liam mumbled .

"No, he's got a point," Ambrose said. "I'd go to a theatre with comfy armchairs. Who wouldn't like that?"

"And popcorn," Will added.

"And popcorn," Ambrose agreed. He liked the Connellys, he was surprised to realise. He'd been expecting them to be at least a bit stuck up—they were wealthy and owned a winery. If Ambrose were wealthy and owned a winery, he'd be stuck up, and he'd enjoy every minute of it. But the Connellys were nice and warm, and Ambrose was sitting at a table with three generations of what was clearly a welcoming, loving family, and it felt good. It ached a little, but it felt good too.

He didn't even feel as though he had to act—he wanted to make a good impression for once, which meant that through the course of the evening he brought every ounce of charm he possessed to the table—which turned out to be a considerable amount, if the pleased glances and soft smiles Liam was giving him were anything to go by.

It worked, too. The Connellys loved him, although Ambrose suspected they would have loved anyone who'd turned up as Liam's date. The mysterious Marcus hadn't appeared yet, despite Neve sending a string of texts, which meant that all attention was on Ambrose, not that he minded in this case.

They were just so friendly and warm, and the way they interacted so naturally, clear affection layered over sarcasm and cheekiness, spoke of years of familiarity and love. And they didn't treat Ambrose like an outsider—they just pulled him right into the middle of their conversations like he'd known them his entire life, too.

By the time dessert came, Ambrose wished he had.

Grandad Billy cleared his throat and caught the eye of a waiter .

"Oh, no," Bridget said fondly. "He's going to do one of his toasts!"

"Yes, he bloody is," Grandad Billy said without any heat. He pulled his reading glasses out of the top pocket of his button-up shirt and perched them on his nose as he scanned the wine list. "Have you got the Shiraz? The Connelly Cellars Shiraz?" Then he looked around the table. "The Shiraz, everyone? Oh, Ambrose, what do you prefer? Now, it has to be Connelly Cellars, of course."

"I…I honestly don't think I've ever bought a bottle of wine that cost over ten bucks," Ambrose said. "So I have no opinion."

"Except for the ‘Don Paragraph' you ordered last week," Liam said softly, his lips twitching.

Ambrose's face heated up. He elbowed Liam in the side.

"Oh, we'll have to teach you then, won't we?" Grandad Billy said. To the waiter, he said, "We'll get the bottle of Shiraz, thanks."

"I'll stick to my water," Bridget said.

"Oooh, anything you want to tell us, Bridget?" Fiona asked excitedly.

"Yes, Mum," Bridget said. She cleared her throat. "Everyone, Orhan and I have been waiting for the right time to tell you, and well, here goes." She drew a deep breath. "I'm on antibiotics for vaginal thrush and I'm not supposed to have alcohol with them."

Riley dissolved into wild giggles as Fiona's eyes widened. William put a hand over his face.

"Oh, Jesus," Liam said, meeting Ambrose's gaze. "I'm so sorry."

"Are you kidding?" Ambrose asked. "That was hilarious!"

Neve's phone buzzed, and her face got a pinched look for a split second as she read the text before her brow smoothed and she said, "Marcus is stuck in a meeting, and he isn't going to make it after all."

"Oh, isn't that a shame! We came down specially to meet him. And you said there was news?" The naked hope was clear in Fi's voice.

"Well," Neve said, "not that I can top Bridget's announcement, but Marcus said to go ahead without him, so…" She leaned down and pulled her handbag into her lap. She opened it and dug around inside for a moment, before pulling her hand out again. A ring with a shiny diamond sparkled on her finger. "Surprise!"

"Oh!" Fiona exclaimed, delighted, then leapt up from her chair and bustled around to the other side of the table to give Neve a huge hug from behind. "My baby's getting married!"

Neve beamed. "And Marcus is really sorry he couldn't be here tonight, but we were hoping that we could come up next week for the Easter long weekend, and he can meet everyone then?"

"Well, of course he can!" Fiona said. "Bridget and Orhan are already coming up for the weekend anyway. Liam? You'll come, won't you?"

"We can give you a lift," Orhan offered.

"Oh, okay," Liam said. "I think I can get the time off work."

Fiona clasped her hands together happily. "And you, Ambrose?"

Ambrose blinked. "Um…"

"Have you been to the Hunter Valley?" William asked. "It's beautiful country."

"We can do a wine tasting," Grandad Billy said. "We'll work our way through the catalogue!"

"That's dangerous," Orhan said with a grin. "I don't even remember my first trip to the winery because of you and your ‘only wusses spit instead of swallowing'."

"I've said the same thing myself on more than one occasion," Ambrose said before he could stop himself. "Spitters are quitters."

It took a moment for it to click for Grandad Billy, but then he roared with laughter. He was wiping his eyes with his linen napkin by the time the waiter returned and couldn't even check the label on the wine bottle when it was presented to him.

"Liam," Grandad Billy managed at last, pointing a finger at his grandson. "This one's a keeper!"

"With that attitude, he sure is," Bridget said, and raised her water glass in his direction.

Ambrose grinned back at her.

"So, you'll come to the winery for the long weekend?" Fiona asked.

"Oh," Ambrose said, shifting his empty dessert plate as the waiter moved around the table and filled the wineglasses. He didn't dare look at Liam. "I'll have to see if I can get time off work on such short notice."

A long weekend with the Connellys sounded like an absolute riot, but at the same time Ambrose would have bet his left testicle that Liam really didn't want him there. An answer like the one he'd just given Fiona would give Liam some wiggle room, and let him break it to his family later in the week that his new and awesome boyfriend Ambrose wouldn't be joining them.

"Ah!" Grandad Billy exclaimed, lifting his wineglass. "Come on, settle down, you lot. Don't make me ding my fork on a glass."

The Connellys fell slowly silent .

Grandad Billy got to his feet. "Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking…"

"Dad," William said, and rolled his eyes. "Every bloody time."

"Hush, you." Grandad Billy cleared his throat. "Well, here we all are again, which doesn't happen as often as I'd like now most of you kids have left the nest. And I know I say this every time, but we should all do this more often." He raised his glass. "To old sweethearts and new ones, to the future, and, as always, to family. Sláinte."

"Sláinte," Ambrose echoed with the rest of them, and took a drink of his shiraz. And even though the evening was winding down now, and everyone would soon be leaving, Ambrose found himself wishing the night could last forever.

He glanced at Liam, and Liam quirked his mouth in something that was almost a smile. This time his hand was steady when Ambrose took it.

Afterwards, standing out on the narrow street, Ambrose felt almost tipsy, even though he'd only had one glass of wine. He realised it was because he hadn't laughed so much in ages. He was still buzzing with the endorphins, and his cheeks ached a little. It felt weird when Liam opened his wallet and handed him a hundred dollars, because Ambrose hadn't been performing tonight at all. He'd just been hanging out with the Connellys, having fun.

"Thanks," he said, and tucked the notes into his pocket. Because it wasn't like he was going to have a moral crisis about it or anything either. He still needed to pay his rent.

Liam shuffled his feet for a moment. "Um, do you have a lift?"

"I'll get an Uber," Ambrose said.

"Yeah," Liam said, and shuffled awkwardly again. "Me too."

"It was fun," Ambrose said.

Liam ducked his head. "They're…they're a lot."

"They're great," Ambrose said. "They have this weirdly wholesome energy. They're like Mormons, only with less religion and more dirty jokes."

Liam laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I s'pose." He glanced at Ambrose. "They really liked you. Grandad Billy cornered me in the bathrooms and basically insisted I keep you."

Ambrose laughed and ignored the warm feeling he got in his chest from going on a date and not being hated at the end of it for once. "Grandad Billy's a character."

"He's a force of nature is what he is. So, next weekend? Would…would that be something you'd be interested in? Or are you busy, what with it being Easter?"

Ambrose's stomach flip-flopped. "Oh. Yeah. I don't actually have anything booked for next weekend yet. And I don't really do Easter, except to buy up all the half-price Easter eggs afterwards."

"Oh." Liam looked surprised, like he'd expected Ambrose to refuse. "We don't really do Easter either—Grandad says he has a moral objection to paying good money for hollow eggs, and we've never really been religious. Um, how much for the long weekend? We'd probably go up on Thursday afternoon and come back Monday morning."

"Five hundred bucks," Ambrose said, plucking a figure from thin air.

Liam scrunched his brow. "Your rates make no sense. Kelly said you charge four hundred for a single date."

"Yeah, but…" But tonight didn't feel like work. "But I'll be ge tting a long weekend at a winery, and your grandad has pretty much promised to get me totally smashed. I'm pretty sure I'll make up the difference in free wine."

"That still doesn't make any sense," Liam said hesitantly.

"Jesus." Ambrose wrinkled his nose. "Do you want me to charge you more?"

"No!"

"Then shut up and agree to five hundred," Ambrose said, and elbowed him.

Liam's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "It's just?—"

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "I can be charming for an entire weekend, if that's what you're worried about."

"Yeah, it's actually the opposite," Liam said. "The thing is, you were too nice, and now it's a problem. They weren't meant to like you so much that they'd enfold you in the Cult of Connelly, but now Grandad won't take no for an answer about the weekend, and how am I meant to break up with you when you're so perfect?"

Liam had a point. The whole point of this had been to fool Liam's parents, to give Liam some breathing space until he met someone he actually wanted to date, someone that wasn't Ambrose.

The thought of Liam—sweet, awkward Liam—on a date with someone else shouldn't have stung like it did. Ambrose pushed the feeling aside and concentrated instead on their problem. He'd never been accused of being too nice before, and it was distinctly unsettling—but also easily fixed. He shrugged. "I could just be…less of a decent person on the weekend? I'm sure I can give you a reason to break up with me later."

Liam's face lit up. "Could you? I mean we could pass tonight off as you being on your best behaviour, and then you could be a dickbag for the weekend."

A tiny part of Ambrose mourned the loss of a weekend of relaxing, of getting to be, well, himself, but he ignored it, the same way he ignored his NIDA rejections and the expiry dates on his acting credits. This was just another job, after all. "I can do that. By the end of the weekend, they'll hate me."

Liam at least had the grace to look a little uncertain. "Well, they don't have to hate you. They just have to see enough of you that they know you're completely wrong for me."

Ouch .

Liam had phrased that wrong, right? He'd meant they'd just have to see enough of the Pretend Ambrose to know that the Pretend Ambrose wasn't right for Liam Connelly. Not the real Ambrose. But of course Liam didn't know that tonight he'd got the real Ambrose. So Liam didn't mean anything by it.

"Sure," Ambrose said, and forced a smile. "A bit of a dick, but not a complete dick. Maybe three inches of dick. I can do that."

"Great," Liam said with a smile, then peered at a red Prius that hummed to a stop nearby. "This is me, I think. I'll text you later in the week, and we'll figure out if I'm picking you up from your place, or if you want to come to mine, or whatever."

"Sure," Ambrose said, his forced smile still plastered on his face. "We'll figure it out."

Liam got into the car, and it drove away.

Ambrose shoved his hands in his pockets and ignored the sudden strange ache in his chest and waited for his Uber to arrive.