13. 13

Joq meandered down Bourke Street, his mind turning over getting Chris a gift for this dinner tonight. Chris wanted to have a ‘special night' and since Joq had done nothing to contribute to that, he thought a gift would be nice. Plus, he liked the idea of getting him something; he could imagine Chris's grateful look no matter how stupid it was. It was tough because Chris could buy himself literally anything he wanted, so it had to be thoughtful.

He went into a shop, flicked through the ornaments and antiques when he found it.

It wasn't much—a clan crest kilt pin—but it was the McLachlan clan, the insignia inscribed in a circle with a buckle, a dagger through the middle with Celtic or Gaelic symbols.

"Scottish heritage?" a woman said from beside him.

Joq cracked a smile—him?

She returned the smile like she'd been joking.

"My boyfriend. He's a McLachlan."

"Well," she smiled warmly, "this is a thoughtful gift, then. We get them in from the St Kilda stockist, they get Scottish Chief approval or something. Accentuates the antiques a bit."

Joq raised a quizzical eyebrow. She pointed at the price at the top of the stand. $49.95. Cheap. Probably a lot cheaper than everything else in the place.

But cheap or not, he thought Chris would get a kick out of it.

"I'll take it," he said.

"He's a lucky man," she replied with a grin and took it from him to gift wrap.

He stepped back onto Bourke Street, the package under his arm, and smiled into the sunshine. He couldn't wait to give it to Chris at dinner, to see his appreciative grin even though it was probably cheesy. Chris had told him to wear a suit, said it was "about time we got dressed up and had a romantic night out," and Joq was happy to oblige.

He was almost on top of him by the time he saw him.

George.

He was standing in the middle of the mall, a tiny newborn cradled in his big arms.

Joq's brain couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. He'd blocked out all sport news for a year now. And while he oversaw the team at the stadium, he managed to do a lot more than he ever thought he could without taking in what was going on in that world. It helped he had Simo running things and he was able to skip most games, and all the Sydney games. Helped even more he could work remotely so much—his basic function was overseeing the technology, he hardly needed to go in at all.

So now he was seeing George—bigger than he remembered—holding a baby and he had no idea whose baby it was, what George was even doing shopping in Melbourne.

He was going to turn around when George looked his way. He seemed surprised, but then he smiled, friendly.

"Joq, hey," he said.

"George, hi, thought that was you," Joq replied feeling surreal.

George looked down at the baby in his arms. "This is Laine," he said quietly, and his face was so heartbreakingly soft it made Joq want to look away. "My son."

Joq's brain short-circuited. He had a son?

"Well," George looked up again and smiled, his face still caught with the expression he had for the baby, his hand moving in incremental sweeps up the infant's back as he rocked him. "Finn's the bio dad. We'll do mine next, but I dunno," he returned his eyes to the baby, "Laine's so perfect, we might stick with Finn," he glanced up and nodded his chin at the shop in front of him. "He's in there getting those onesies. He can't help himself, says good fashion has to start young," he chuckled so fondly it made Joq want to—he didn't know, hit him?

He was over this. He'd moved on. But as he stood there, heard his voice making small talk, he felt beneath his shock this incredulous anger as he told George how beautiful the baby was. Because unfortunately, he was. They were normally ugly at this age, but when this one's little eyes popped open and stared at the world around him with the startled, wide-eyed gaze they had, the eyes the disarming blue that was so recognisable, Joq had to concede, he was beautiful.

People were doing double takes, phone cameras out, and here was George, standing on the busiest shopping street in the country with his fucking newborn while his fucking husband shopped for their son a little ways away.

"Well, it's good to see you," Joq said because the words were just coming out.

"Yeah, you too," George smiled, friendly enough, but it was a media-approved smile, nothing personal in it, not a hint of acknowledging they'd been a fucking couple for over a decade.

The baby made a little sound and George focused back on him, hugged him closer to his chest with a palm that covered his entire back.

Joq caught the movement of Finn coming out of the shop and he had to get out of there.

"See you round, congratulations," he finished lamely and turned to head in the opposite direction.

"Thank you," he heard in that same detached voice, but he didn't miss the way it changed when he started talking to Finn, Joq still close enough to hear him asking what he got, his laughter, Finn's voice carrying with his reply, "You right with him? I need to check out those prams."

"Babe, we've already got a pram…" the unmistakable fondness; Joq could almost see it, Finn buying whatever he wanted, doing whatever he wanted, running all over the country with George and his fucking son in tow for all the world to see.

Joq glanced back. Finn had an arm around George's waist and George was leaning in to meet his lips in a gentle kiss, right there, in the middle of the street, their baby snug against George's chest between them, Finn's palm resting over George's on the baby's back.

Joq bumped into someone.

"Sorry, sorry," he gasped out.

His hands were shaking. He hugged the package under his arm and walked, unseeing, and had no idea where he was going. He just needed to get away, to calm the anger and hurt he could feel crashing around inside him.

He walked. He walked for so long that in the end he didn't even know how he got to the stretch of bay in front of his house. It was dark. He sat on the beach. His phone had been going on and off for a while. He continued to ignore it.

He just needed to calm down. He needed to be alone. He'd get under control and then he'd be normal again.