Love on the Rocks

Love On The Rocks -- 35

This story contains sexual situations between males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. If you are under 18 years of age you are probably not legally allowed to read this story. This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the web sites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author.

A dozen scenarios were dancing in my head as I made my way to Verandah to meet Max. Had Ty fallen in a heap? Did he want to sue me? Was I being fired? Were Frank and Dot OK? My stomach was in knots by the time I reached the door of the restaurant and I leaned against a wall for a moment, breathing deeply to calm myself.

I squared my shoulders and walked into the busy eatery, instantly spotting Max sitting in a window seat, studying the menu. I made my way to him and we shook hands. He waved for me to sit down.

"I needed to book somewhere new," Max smiled. "I think the staff at the Glass Brasserie were getting suspicious. Naïve young lawyer being wined and dined constantly by the hot senior partner. It wouldn't be good for your career ..."

Despite my consternation, I chuckled. God love Max for keeping things light.

"I wouldn't want them think you were a geriophile," he chuckled.

I smiled. "What's so urgent?"

"Relax," Max smiled. "The company is feeding you and keeping you watered again. Order a drink."

"I don't want a drink."

"You'll need one. Order something strong."

The waiter appeared and without thinking, I asked for a gin and tonic. "I'll have the same," Max told him.

"What's going on, Max?" I asked, anxious to be put out of my misery.

"Mike, I have some great news for you," Max grinned, before frowning. "And I have some not so great news for you too."

"Let me have the bad news first," I sighed.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"The record company has cited breach of contract. They're giving Tyson Hill 48 hours to respond before they suspend his contract and seek recompense."

I whistled. "That's no real surprise Max. I saw this coming."

"Vince Cometti called me."

"And?"

"He wants you to meet with him and Ty and the record company's legal counsel tomorrow."

"You told him `no', I hope?"

"Of course I did but he wouldn't buy it."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I told him you were on suspended leave, and I'd be representing Tyson."

I raised my eyebrow.

"He went nuts. He insists that you're the only one that can resolve this and he's insisting you be called back from leave."

"He can't do that! Max? Please?"

"Here's the thing, Mike," Max began, as he fumbled with his napkin. "The record company has brought in Eddie Zaitman to act for them ..."

"Shit," I expelled. "He can be a cunt."

"You're the only counsel we've got who's been up against him before. Cometti knows that. So he's insisting it's you."

"You told him I wasn't available, right?"

"Of course, but the ultimatum is -- if you're not available to represent his client, as per his agreement with us, he'll appoint new legal counsel."

"He wouldn't!"

"He would, and he will. Mike, Tyson Hill's a valuable client. If we lose him suddenly, because of you, the other partners are going to start asking questions."

"This is why I wanted to resign, Max. I don't need this right now."

"I know Mike, but your resignation hasn't been accepted. You're on leave without pay, but if you turn up tomorrow and represent him I'll make you our consulting counsel, so you'll be paid well for the day."

I rested my forehead in my hands. "The money means nothing Max," I sighed. "I'm being screwed here. I'm being forced to do the one thing I don't want to do."

Max leaned across the table and looked at me closely. "I know how hard this is Mike. I was in the middle of the class action against EMI by those seven artists who were calling for audits when my two beautiful girls found out their Daddy was leaving their Mummy because he'd suddenly realised he liked men. It ain't easy, but you really need to do this, for your career, and to show me that you can separate the personal from the professional when the chips are down. I have no idea whether you love Hill or hate him right now, but you made a commitment to be his legal representative, and it's in crises like this that this firm prides itself on being able to deliver."

I slumped back in my seat, juggling stress and anger at the same time.

"The crispy duck salad with soy and sesame is supposed to be superb," Max deadpanned.

"What?"

"We need to order. The duck probably runs out quickly."

I stared at him and he shrugged, signalled the waiter and ordered two duck salads with sides of steamed vegetables and tomato, fetta and pesto salad.

"I feel like I want to refuse, Max," I said honestly.

"You can do that, son," Max agreed. "Tyson Hill will find a new law firm, we'll lose a five star client, and you'll be looking for a new job. You'll get a fantastic reference from me, of course. It's your call Mike."

I leaned back and gazed upwards, while Max busied himself buttering and eating his bread roll.

I sat up straight and looked at him. "You'll love the duck salad!" he enthused.

"Max, do you realise what you're asking me to do?"

"Yes Mike, of course I do, but you're not walking into anything confrontational. Tyson's a complete mess over what he's done to you ..."

"How do you know that?"

"I have your phone. I've spoken to his mum and dad, the youngest brother, and the other brother and his wife."

"Jesus!" I groaned.

"Someone had to. I didn't contact them, I just answered their calls. All they know is you're fine and you're on leave. They're worried about you. They don't say much because they don't know that I know ... but I get the feeling they've all given Tyson Hill a reality check."

"Shit!" I hissed.

"Oh look!" Max piped up as a waiter walked towards us. "Here's the duck salad!"

The waiter refreshed our wines and Max hoed into his salad while I picked at mine.

"You'll do it, won't you?"

I let out a long sigh. "What choice do I have Max? I don't want to do it, and I don't feel prepared enough to do it ..."

"Yeah, I figured that," Max cut in, as he reached for the satchel at his feet and extracted a thick file. "Here's all his contractual stuff. You need to read it carefully. Pay special attention to the media commitment clauses because that's what they'll zero in on, and cave as much as you feel you can. Go in strong on the record company's repertoire `approval' clause. It compromises the artist's integrity. Dessert?"

"No thanks," I groaned. "If I have to get through before tomorrow, I need to get cracking ..."

Max signalled for the bill. "I've booked the record company's board room from 2pm to 4pm. That gives ..."

"Can't it be in our board room?"

Max thought for a moment. "Sure."

"I'll just feel better if I'm in familiar surroundings."

"Two til four gives you half an hour with Cometti and Hill before Zaitman turns up. An hour's been allowed for the discussion, and then I've made sure you have a half hour at the end of it."

"Why?"

"Well, in case there are any aspects of the discussion and hopeful resolution that the client doesn't understand, you can clarify. Or maybe there might be something you and the client need to say to each other? Who knows? You go -- I'll settle the bill and have a coffee. You need to study."

I stood and shook his hand. "I'm not looking forward to this you know, Max."

"I know you're not son, but Max knows best."

"Can I use my old office in the morning to do briefing notes, and to call Vince?" I asked. "I don't want my mobile number out there right now."

"It's still your office, Mike," Max smiled. "I'm around tomorrow. If you need anything, just holler!"

I thanked him and turned to go when I suddenly remembered the start of the conversation. "You said you had some great news and some not so great news. What's the great news?"

"Oh yeah, I forget!" he laughed as his face lit up. "Australia won the decider in the tri-series final against Sri Lanka by 16 runs!!

I rolled my eyes and walked out the door, but I couldn't prevent the smirk. Max knew how clueless I was about cricket ...

It was a restless walk back to my apartment. Part of me was furious with Vince for playing the hand he did, dragging me back into possible conflict with Ty. Part of me understood that he was looking out for Ty's interests. For 12 months I'd been Ty's lawyer and Vince wanted someone who knew his client well. Vince is an arsehole.

I stopped and bought takeout Chinese, assuming I'd be hungry later as I pored over paperwork. Back in my new space, I sighed when I looked at the unpacked bags, flopped down on the couch and flicked open the file Max had given me.

For the next six hours, I immersed myself in Ty's Heads Of Agreement and his long form contract with the record company, making copious notes in the margins. It was almost seven when I stopped to take a leak and realised how hungry I was. I heated up the Chinese food, poured a glass of wine and flicked on the ABC news.

I allowed myself a half hour break, and spent the next two hours stretched out on the couch trying to work out my line of attack. I tried to keep Eddie Zaitman's modus operandi inside my head as I worked out any `ducks and weaves' I might need.

I finally closed the file at 11:30pm, had another glass of wine and watched some mindless television before turning in.

Again I had trouble sleeping. My legal strategising gave way to apprehension about tomorrow's meeting. In my legal guise, I felt confident; Zaitman was a tough old bastard but I had no doubt I could rise to the challenge. It was knowing I'd be face-to-face with his company's top selling artist that was unsettling me.

Through the early hours I slept fitfully, dozing and then suddenly waking in panic. Would Ty be hostile? Would he be remorseful? Would we be left alone at any point? If so, what would be said?

I eventually nodded off and had unbroken sleep until seven. For a while I lay in bed in half sleep, feeling cosy and happy and very aware of the throbbing insistence of my morning wood, a reminder of how long it had been since the boys in the engine room had had a workout.

As every male does, even when barely compos, I wrapped my hand around it for reassurance, just as a baby seeks the comfort of a pacifier. As I dreamily started to stroke, my mind conjured up images of Ty; his dazzling smile, his beautiful eyes, his hearty laugh, his soft curls ...

The rigidness of my cock was matched by the tautness in my stomach as I tried to block those images out. My erection deflated as my mind started to focus on the day ahead and how difficult it would surely be.

I tried burying myself as deep as I could under the doona but I couldn't shut out the dread I felt. I sighed and threw back the covers. In the bathroom, I got rid of the whiskers and showered. I picked out my best suit, matched it with a Ferragamo shirt and a Zegna tie and pulled on a pair of Armani boots. If I was going to be a lamb to the slaughter, I wanted to be sure I was a well dressed one.

I had no idea how I'd handle being in Ty's company again, nor whether I'd have the opportunity to say the things I needed to say to him. Even if I did, would I be able to bring myself to say them?

I fired up my laptop, inserted a blank CD and burned a file I'd thought about whilst in the shower. I packed everything I needed into my briefcase and headed out into the city for an early breakfast. There was no pleasure in my meal; I was eating only to settle my stomach.

I fixed the bill, grabbed a coffee to go and headed to the office. Thankfully Max had ensured my car park access was reactivated and after parking, I took the lift to the 21st floor. It was early and fortunately few staff members were around. I got settled in my office, turned on my computer and started to transfer my handwritten notes into an agenda document.

I looked up when I heard a knock at my door and through it walked Max. "You're early," I smiled, knowing full well that Max was hardly ever in the office before eleven.

"Yeah, well, things to do ..." he shrugged, but I knew he'd made the effort just to give me a bit of support. He looked at the papers spread out on my desk. "How did you go?"

"I'm across it all, I think," I replied. "It's a watertight contract and I can't find any major loopholes, so it's going to have to be compromise. I just hope I can come up with something to make both parties happy."

"And you?" Max asked. "How are you doing?"

"How do you think I'm doing, Max?" I asked.

"Well, you turned up," he smiled. "That's a good start ... and you're wearing a nice tie."

I couldn't help the smirk. "It's a Zegna."

"I know."

"Did you think there was a chance I wouldn't turn up?"

"Not for a minute. I know this is difficult for you Mike, but you've always been the consummate professional. It's the reason I hired you."

I sighed. "Here's me thinking all these years that I got the job because I was so cute ..."

Max grinned. "Holler if you need a hand," he said, as he closed the door behind him.

I spent an hour finalising my agenda and glanced at my desk clock. It was gone nine, time to make the call. I stared at my phone for a while, put it on speaker and punched in the number.

A receptionist answered, so clearly business was good. "Vince Cometti please."

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Michael Stewart."

"Where are you from Mr. Stewart?"

"Turner, Minchell and Davis."

I grimaced at the irony; the on-hold music was "Open Letter To You" from Ty's last album. A few seconds went by before the call was picked up.

"Mike?"

"Hello Vince," I replied flatly.

"Mate, I'm real sorry to have to do this to you, but this is serious shit and you're the only one who can save Ty's arse. Nobody else knows him, or the contract, as well as you do."

"Let's just get on with it."

"Hang on. Talk to me. What's with the whole disappearing act? Ty's a cot case ..."

"I'm not here to discuss Ty and me, Vince. I'm here to represent the company's client, at your insistence."

"Mike, I thought we were mates? I need to know what's happened between you guys. Ty's a complete mess ..."

I couldn't help myself. "What about me, Vince? Does anyone care how this has affected me?"

"Yeah, Ty's whole family for a start ..."

I was shocked. "Scott promised me he wouldn't say anything."

"He didn't. Ty told them himself. Just before he started to unravel."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. Vince continued, "He wasn't looking for sympathy and he certainly didn't get any. He got such a shellacking from his family that his Mum rang me and asked me if I'd fly up. You should've seen the way his brothers ripped into him, especially the middle one, and his Mum was in a state. As for your brother, he really let Ty have it."

"Shit!" I thought. I hadn't considered Steve's reaction, and I wondered if he still had a job.

"The only real support he got was from his Dad, who spent most of the time I was there trying to find out what had made him treat you the way he did ..."

I wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor, but Vince ploughed on. "He pulled himself together enough to be able to fly home with me. You've never seen someone drive so fast when we got to Sydney. Then when we got to the house and he realised you'd gone ... man, it nearly made ME cry."

It was several seconds before I could speak. "We need to discuss business, Vince."

Vince sighed. "You can ignore me all you like, Mike, but I'm gonna say this anyway. I've said it before -- you're the best thing that ever happened to Ty and, mate, he loves you. He really fucking loves you. He knows what he did to you and he's eaten up with regret. He'd be telling you this himself but he's had no way of finding you. You just disappeared without a trace."

"I had to Vince," I said evenly. "We really need to discuss what's going to happen in this meeting."

"You won't talk to me about this?"

"It's really nothing to do with you, Vince."

"You're right, but I care about Ty and I care about you. I just want you to give him another chance ..."

"I'm going to try a stalling tactic with the record company," I said, and I heard Vince sigh. "I'll dangle a carrot that will hopefully satisfy them until the contract's due for renewal. They'll make money, but Ty will have to agree to quite a lot of things he's refused up til now."

"How's it gonna work?"

For the next 40 minutes, I outlined my strategy to Vince, who saw wisdom in a lot of it but had reservations about some aspects of the plan. We discussed a new album, the song he'd written with Daniel Keneally, future tour plans and a publicity schedule.

By the time everything had been talked through, Vince was feeling much better. "Do you think it'll work?"

"It had better work," I said. "If it doesn't, Ty's in deep shit."

"Well if anyone can pull this off, it's you mate," Vince said gratefully. "Seriously, thank you for doing this, Mike. I know it's hard."

"I'll see you at two," I said before disconnecting the call. I sat with my head in my hands for a while, trying not to think of what Vince had told me about Ty and his family. So much was at stake with this afternoon's meeting and I needed to stay completely focussed on avoiding litigation. I realised this was going to be even harder than I had first thought.

I had one more phone call to make to be sure I would be able to discuss all areas of negotiating with confidence, and then I leaned back in my chair with my feet on my desk, thinking through the order of points I needed to make. Once they were clear in my head I started jotting them down in brief note form.

There was a knock at my door and at my invitation Max walked in a sat on the arm of the chair opposite me. "How did it go?" he asked.

"If Ty's prepared to agree to it all, we might have a reasonable chance," I replied. "If not ..."

"Everything else was OK with the call?"

"I told Vince I didn't want to discuss me and Ty."

"If it's any consolation, I reckon Tyson's copped it from all sides."

"That's no consolation at all, Max," I sighed.

"Seeing the meeting is in our boardroom, I can sit in if you want me to?"

"Thanks Max," I smiled. "This is something I just have to deal with on my own."

An hour passed in what seemed like a couple of minutes and right on two, Max knocked on my door. "They're here and they're seated," he said quietly. "You OK?"

I nodded but said nothing. I stood up, straightened my suit and snapped my briefcase shut. I squared my shoulders before patting Max on the back and walking from my office to the boardroom. I stood outside the door and took a deep breath before steeling myself and walking in.

I hoped my face didn't register my shock when I saw Ty. He was slumped in his seat, his head hanging down. He was unshaven and had lost weight. He looked up as soon as I entered the room and his voice sounded hoarse when he said, "Mike, I can't tell you how sorry I am for what I've done to you. I want you to know ..."

"There's no time for this now Ty," I said. I flashed on the fact that I had cut him off when he needed to talk, just as he had done to me so many times recently. However, we needed to stay on track for the meeting. I had limited time to determine if Ty was agreeable to negotiation or if he was going to dig his heels in.

Trying to avoid looking directly at him, I got stuck right in. "You have two options Ty," I told him. "You can reach agreement with them which will involve some compromise on your part, or you can stick to your guns and they'll likely cite breach and suspend your contract. It's possible you'll have to pay back any monies unrecouped from your advance, and it could affect your publishing advances too. What do you want?"

"I just want you," he replied softly.

"Be serious Ty!" Vince cut in.

"I am being serious. I'll give all of the money back and never sing another song if you'll just love me again Mike ..."

My shoulders slumped and I let out a sigh. "I never stopped loving you Ty," I said. "But this meeting is not about me, or us. This is about your career and right at the moment it's hanging in the balance because you signed a legally binding contract that comes with obligations you haven't been meeting."

Ty went to speak but I held up my hand. "Before the meeting starts, I need you to know what I'm proposing to the record company, and you need to agree to it before their lawyer walks through that door."

Ty remained silent, looking at the floor, so I quickly outlined the main points I would be covering. I didn't get through them all before my mobile registered a text message. I checked; it was Max letting me know that Zaitman was waiting.

"Shit!" I exclaimed. "Zaitman's here." I looked at Vince and Ty. "Any questions?"

"Sounds good to me," Vince enthused. "Ty?"

"When can we talk about you and me, Mike?"

I picked up my mobile and called Max. "Send him in."

The door opened and Trish ushered in the record company's Grim Reaper. "Hello Eddie," I smiled as I shook his hand. "Good to see you."

"Stewart," he nodded, as I introduced him to Ty and Vince. They were seated facing each other, so Zaitman and I took seats at opposite ends of the table.

Zaitman was not a man given to pleasantries. "The company is concerned that your client is refusing to deliver product in line with contractual obligation, and failing to cooperate in the active promotion of existing product which as I'm sure you're aware was agreed to in Clause 7 (c) and (d)."

"Tyson has actively promoted all his product," I countered. "He has done two national tours on the back of his two studio albums, in-store CD and DVD signings, radio, television and media interviews and every one of the photo sessions the company has asked him to do."

"He has met some of his obligations, certainly," Zaitman agreed. "However, several key media opportunities have been lost because your client has not been willing to fulfill them."

"My client has always been willing to make himself available to media when his music is the focus of the interview. He has the right to decline to pose for magazine front covers which require him to be photographed in nothing but swimming trunks. He is selling his music, not his body."

"Agreed," said Zaitman. "However, he would not commit to taking part in panel' and quiz' show programs that the company believes reach his target audience. These programs did not require him to wear a swimsuit, they merely required him to be the artist `Tyson Hill'."

"The contract clearly stipulates reasonable' media requests and my client is entitled to be the arbiter of what a reasonable' request is," I countered.

"Your client is refusing to deliver product for a new album in the genre the company has requested," Zaitman said, employing one of his trademark `change of subject' moves designed no doubt to catch me off guard.

"My client has done no such thing," I argued. "He was signed on the strength of the material on Love On The Rocks' and while the contract allows the company some say in repertoire, it does not specify that the artist needs to continue writing anthemic music' in order to fulfill his obligations."

"Stewart, be reasonable," Zaitman snapped. "Love On The Rocks' was the biggest selling domestic album of its year. Your client showed unwillingness to stay with that formula for the second album, and Hill Songs' did not sell nearly as well as the first album."

"They both got to number one, Zaitman. Second albums have a long and noble history of failing to match the sales of an album that becomes a phenomenon. Alanis Morrisette sold 33 million copies of Jagged Little Pill', and the follow-up didn't sell even a third that many. Gabriella Cilmi's Lessons To Be Learned' went to number one, the follow-up barely scraped into the top 20. I could go on ..."

"All the same, the relatively conservative sales of `Hill Songs' leads the company to believe that for the third studio album, the artist should return to the style that launched him."

I laughed. "Conservative sales? It was the second biggest-selling album of the year after Adele's `21'. It was the biggest-selling Australian album of the year. It won awards and it topped all magazine readers' polls. Yeah, Zaitman, it was a real flop!"

"I'm not going to play games with you, Stewart," he replied. "What are you offering?"

"OK, here's the deal. There's one album to go. My client will deliver you a Greatest Hits album, with ..."

Zaitman snorted. "Playing the `Greatest Hits' card isn't gonna get you out of jail free!"

"Are you suggesting my client doesn't warrant a Greatest Hits' album?" I asked. "He's had seven hits, six of them number ones. The company has released Greatest Hits' compilations by artists who`ve had two Top 40 singles!"

"We want a third studio album."

"The contract does not specify studio'. The third album my client will give you will be a compilation of his seven smash hits, supplemented with one demo' recording of Angels On High' with a country' feel, an acoustic version of one of the anthemic hits of my client's choice, two never-before-released `live' performances, and one brand new track that my client has written with a teenage cancer sufferer, to raise awareness of leukemia. It's an anthem."

Instead of dismissing my offer, Zaitman pondered for a moment. "Are they prepared to do whatever it takes to promote the single, and the album?"

"Within reason, of course," I assured him. "Both my client and his co-writer will agree to all reasonable media requests."

Ty looked up from the floor and for the first time, contributed to the discussion. Looking at Zaitman and not at me he said, "I'm really sorry, but I don't feel comfortable about using Danny to sell records ..."

I cut in with, "I spoke with Daniel Keneally and his mother this morning and Daniel is more than happy to undertake a media schedule to promote the song providing he is in good health, which at the moment he is."

Turning to Zaitman I added, "There's hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of feel-good publicity, right there."

Zaitman scratched his beard. "There would need to be a `Greatest Hits' tour to support the album."

I looked at Vince, who nodded. "My client will commit to a tour," I said.

"The cancer kid should be part of it."

From the corner of my eye I saw Ty bristle. I said, "We obviously can't commit a youth with health issues to the demands of a concert tour, but he could be part of the concerts using prerecorded footage."

"That could work."

For the first time, I relaxed a little. It seemed like the strategy was working.

"A tour and an album mean major media," Zaitman tossed in.

"My client will undertake the same media schedule as he has on previous tours. He'll do the Today Show', Sunrise', The Morning Show', The Circle', `7pm Project" -- all the usual."

"He'll be required to take part in My Generation' and Dancing With The Stars', as well as `Kenny Best Tonight'."

I gave it my best shot. "My client is agreeable to doing My Generation' and similar styled quiz shows, as well as any news and current affair programs, and he will also appear on children's television if required. He will not be a contestant on Dancing With The Stars' because he can't dance, and `Kenny Best' remains declined."

"'Kenny Best' is what brought this to a head," Zaitman smirked. "The company made a big-budget television campaign of the Tyson Hill catalogue, tailored to that program."

"'Kenny Best' is non-negotiable," I insisted.

"Then we have a problem," Zaitman replied.

Ty said something so quietly we all looked at him quizzically. He looked up briefly and repeated, "I'll do it."

"You're agreeing to `Kenny Best Tonight'?" Zaitman asked.

"Yes," Ty said.

I was surprised, but I didn't let it show. "In addition, my client will give the company first option on contract renewal."

"That option will include an album of `anthems' if required by the company?"

"Repertoire will be negotiable and my client will retain the right of veto."

"That will possibly not suit the company."

"If you pass, then my client can offer his repertoire to another label. Let's wait to see what the `Greatest Hits' compilation does, as well as the new single."

"If the `Greatest Hits' release does not meet sales expectations, then the first option will give the company the right to dictate repertoire."

I made an exaggerated sigh. "That could well coincide with my client calling for a full accounting of digital sales to date. An audit of royalty statements for physical sales would probably reveal minor discrepancies, but I think there'll be a major anomaly in digital download accounting. My client's contract guarantees a royalty of 18% of digital sales and this has been accounted, minus deductions for packaging. I'm itching to ask a judge what packaging deductions apply to a product that is basically thin air!"

I had him then, and he knew it. Ty was losing out on income because his record company was applying packaging deductions to his digital sales. He'd forfeited a small amount of income as a result, but I traded it off against what he stood to lose if he had to fight the record company in court.

"I'll come back to you once I've reported to the company," Zaitman said tersely.

"Thanks Eddie," I replied. "Tyson is ready to start recording the song he wrote with Daniel Keneally, so there needs to be a discussion about a budget and a producer. The bonus material for the `Greatest Hits' package will be available on a reference CD for the company as early as Monday."

Zaitman closed his briefcase. "Always a pleasure, Stewart," he said sarcastically. "An even greater pleasure gentlemen," he added, extending his hand to Vince and Ty.

I waited until he'd left the boardroom before I expelled the air trapped in my lungs. "I think that might have worked," I exclaimed, looking at Vince.

"You were fucking awesome!" he responded.

"All part of the friendly service," I said as I packed up my paperwork.

"Now, can we get this stuff settled between you two boys?" Vince jumped in. "It's time to kiss and make up!"

Ty looked up expectantly. "Please Mike?" he asked. "Can we work this out?"

The moment I dreaded had arrived. I took some breaths before turning to Vince. "You need to disappear Vince," I said firmly. "I need to talk to Ty alone."

Vince seemed momentarily displaced before he took the hint and started to get up.

"Before you go," I said, "you both need to understand that any follow-up from today's meeting will be handled by Max Minchell."

Vince looked surprised. "Why?" he asked. "He agreed that you'd represent Ty?"

"Just for this one meeting," I replied. "I've taken leave of absence and I'm not sure I'm coming back to Turner, Minchell and Davis."

"What?" Ty exclaimed. "You're leaving your job?"

"Mike, what Ty did was appalling," Vince implored, "but surely you guys can work this out? ..."

I could feel myself perspiring and my mouth was dry. "Vince, I need to talk to Ty in private. Please?"

Though he was shocked, Vince didn't take his eyes off me once as he shuffled out of the room. For the first time since he'd punched me in the mouth, I was alone with Ty ...

Despite the amount of time I had agonised over what I would say to Ty, I found myself suffering performance anxiety. I needed to speak but the words wouldn't come. I looked at him briefly, found myself lost in his sad, beautiful eyes and had to look away.

"Mike," Ty said softly, breaking the silence. I looked up. "I'll do anything to make this right."

I sighed. "I'm not the right guy for you, Ty," I said. "This can never work."

"Of course it can!" he implored. "We're perfect for each other. There aren't enough words to tell you how sorry I am for what I did to you, and I will never do it again. I promise you. I'll do anything. I'll get counselling, we can see someone together even?"

"Ty, I'm standing in the way of your career. That's clear to me now."

"No you're not, Mike. I'll give up my career if that's what you want. Honestly, I will."

"I don't want you to give up your career," I smiled. "You had a dream as a little boy and the dream came true. This should be the best time of your life."

"It means nothing to me without you to share it with me."

"You were at the top of your field before I even met you, Ty. Twelve months down the track with me, and you've been threatened with a lawsuit. That's gotta tell you something."

"I can do something else. We can focus on your career and I'll just ... find something else to do. Please Mike, this can't end." He sounded desperate.

"Ty, I have to think about my own life, too," I said gently. "With what's been happening lately, it's really been driven home to me that I'm on my own. I can't talk to anybody about us, except for your family and my brother. I had lot of mates when I lived in Melbourne and they've all wanted to keep in touch but I've let them all go. I can hardly have them come and stay with us in Sydney and say, `by the way guys, Ty's my partner, but hey please don't tell anyone'."

"I brought all this up months ago," Ty replied. "I said I was sick of living a lie, but you agreed with Vince that I should keep up a façade."

"I still believe that, Ty," I explained. "I'd never ask you to come out for my sake, and as you know, being the centre of media attention is the last thing I want for myself. At the same time I'm just there, hovering anonymously in the background and when you're off touring, it's just George and me. I have no friends."

"You can come on tour with me, you know I've always wanted that. You could come and work exclusively as my lawyer. Vince mentioned that ages ago and you know I can afford it."

"Ty, it can't work. It's a painful realisation for me, but I know it's true. You need to really focus on your career and step up to the plate with the new recordings and the tour. And I need to get back on track and figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life."

Ty buried his face in his hands and I suspected he was crying. "Please Mike," he pleaded. "Please don't let this happen. I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the world. I just want the chance to make everything right again. I don't even want to think about my life without you."

Again I was lost for words. I felt numb. Ty stifled a sob and look up at me pleadingly, his cheeks streaked with tears. "Mike?"

I wanted to be sick, but I summoned the courage to say what I had to say. I looked directly at the beautiful man I had innocently believed would be my `happy ever after' and said, "I'm sorry Ty, I really am, but ... it's over."

The two words that a month earlier I would never have thought I would ever have to say, hung in the air, and the only sound in the room was Ty's strangled sob. I lifted the lid of my briefcase, picked up the unmarked CD and dropped it in the middle of the table. Ty looked at it and looked back at me but I was unable to hold his gaze. I reached into my pocket. I swear I have never heard a louder noise than the `clink' that sounded when I placed my Point Piper door key on the table next to the CD.

Ty put his face back in his hands and I stood staring at the table for a few seconds before picking up my briefcase. Hard as it was to keep my bottom lip from quivering, I managed to say, "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Ty. I really am."

Without another word I turned and walked quietly out of the room.

I felt tears welling in my eyes and I was aware that Max was standing at his secretary's desk talking. I couldn't face walking through the office to the lift, and as I turned towards the fire stairs Trish called out, "Mike, are you alright?"

I saw her start to move towards me but Max stopped her. I heard him say, "Leave him be" as I pushed open the door and hurried down the stairs. By the time I reached the basement, tears were blurring my vision. I shut myself in my car and sobbed.

As I started the engine and buzzed the garage door open, all I could think about was Ty playing the CD I'd burned for him ...

"Love is why I came here in the first place / Love is now the reason I must go / Love is all I ever hoped to find here / Love is still the only dream I know ..."

I drove back to my apartment and walked in, dropped my briefcase on the couch and climbed into bed, still in my suit. I tried to will myself to sleep but I couldn't, so I curled up and tried to shut out the replay of the last few hours that was on high rotation in my head.

There I stayed until about seven, when my doorbell rang. Assuming it was someone buzzing the wrong apartment I ignored it until it became persistent. I got up, trying not to be annoyed, and opened the door to find Max waiting with a large pizza and a six-pack of Crown Lager.

He looked at me and smiled. "Hugo Boss would be very upset if he knew you used his suits as pyjamas," he chuckled.

"Yeah, sorry. I couldn't be bothered changing.

"Curled up in a ball, eyes squeezed shut I expect. I bought us some food."

"Thanks Max. You wanna serve it while I go change? Everything should be in the kitchen. I don't know, haven't had time to check what's what."

I went into my bedroom, shed my business clothes and threw on tracksuit pants and a tee shirt. By the time I was back in the lounge, Max had put food on plates and had knocked the tops off two beers.

"I'm actually quite hungry," I said as I munched a slice of pizza. "Thanks Max. You're a mate."

"Speaking of mates, it didn't go too well with Tyson I gather?"

"No."

"You shut him down?"

I winched at the words. "Yep."

"I had a call on your mobile from Vince Cometti. I think he was hoping you'd answer, but he asked me if there was anything I could do to ensure you'll continue the legal stuff for Tyson, and asked if I could arrange a meeting between you and Tyson as soon as possible."

I sighed. "And? ..."

"I told him that you were on leave and couldn't do anything until you return in three months."

"What did he say?"

"He said something in Italian and I don't think it was very flattering."

Max and I kicked back and ate pizza and drank beer through the usual prime time nonsense, and even saw `My Kitchen Rules' through to the end. The segment on desserts made me feel guilty.

"I should be doing dessert," I shrugged at 8:30. "I haven't even unpacked the groceries. I can offer you a banana? Or a pear?"

"No, no," said Max, glancing at his watch. "I've gotta get home and feed the cat! I just wanted to make sure you were OK."

"Thanks Max," I said, for the umpteenth time. "For the food, and for keeping an eye on me."

"Nah," he said dismissively. "You're young. You can look out for yourself. I have a vested interest in you. I want you to come back to the company. Go get some sleep. Call me if you wanna talk."

I saw Max to the door, cleaned up our dinner plates and empty beer bottles, and finally unpacked the groceries. When the apartment was sorted, I called Steve. He was relieved to hear from me and he filled me in on the confrontation he'd had with Ty. In turn, I let him know what had happened today.

"Please don't say anything to anyone, mate?" I urged.

"Of course, Mike," he assured me. "He deserved a shellacking for what he put you through, but ... calling it quits? Are you sure that was the right thing to do? You guys were like, well, you know ..."

"Yeah," I said after a while. "This is best for both of us."

Steve told me that Lachlan and Ellie had returned from their honeymoon and were preparing for the arrival of the twins. Lachlan, he said, had caught up with what had been happening and had torn strips off his older brother.

"This hasn't been a good week for Ty, mate!" Steve chuckled. "Or for you. You OK?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I assured him.

"Hey, I can take some leave," Steve enthused. "I could come and stay with you in Sydney. We can go out drinking and then we can do the bars. You know, gay bars even. Find you something hot!"

I laughed. "I don't do bars. Or locker rooms. Or saunas."

"Then how do you meet someone?"

"I go on holidays and wait until some rock star knocks on my door," I replied, smiling inwardly at the memory.

"You want me to come and hang out with you?"

"Thanks for the offer mate, but no. I'll be OK."

Much later in the evening, Dad called. I filled him in on the outcome and he surprised me by commiserating; Dad was usually more of a "good riddance to the fucking bastard" kind of guy.

"You OK?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm doin' real good!" I laughed. "I'll be OK, Dad. I've been down this road before. It hurts way more this time, but I'll be OK."

"I think you did the right thing Mike," he said. "He meant that much to you?"

"He meant to world to me, Dad," I said quietly. "This is really hard ..."

Indeed, the next three weeks were terribly hard. I had no established pattern to follow, no job to go to each day, no sense of purpose and worst of all, no Ty to come home at night. Just a lonely apartment.

Max rang every day to say `hello' but of course I knew he was also checking to see whether I'd lost the plot.

I needed to stay as busy as I could. I joined a gym close to my apartment so I could exercise every day. I ran, swam, used the treadmill and ignored the seemingly endless parade of married guys and their subtle signals. There were as many Mr. Marrieds on the prowl here in Castlereagh Street as there were in the Grand Apartments gymnasium complex.

I kept at it because I was losing the excess weight that living the good life had caused, and the exercise was also helping me stay in a positive frame of mind. Typically, I had something to eat after my workout, walked a few blocks and then spent the afternoon listening to music, reading novels, watching DVDs; pretty much everything I could think of to stop my mind wandering to Ty.

It worked well except when I was confronted with the still of each night. Sliding into bed and missing that magic moment when I would wrap my arms around the man I loved. My sleep was often fitful and every morning I woke feeling sad that Ty's head wasn't resting on my chest.

It was difficult, and I was missing George like crazy, but I felt I was keeping on top of it. I couldn't be bothered cooking for one, so mostly I got takeaway or ate out. Reading my book or the newspaper over a lazy pasta at a quiet table was a good way to fill in a two hour gap.

Once each week I had dinner out with Max. It was casual and enjoyable, and Max would give me updates on things he thought I'd want to know. Without any pressure, he kept me abreast of what was happening at the office, the new employees and new clients. He would then casually let me know the conversations he'd had when he answered my work mobile.

He'd pretty much spoken to everyone, but not once to Ty. Scott had rung several times, anxious to know that I was OK. Frank and Dot had called and knowing they weren't able to speak to me, sent their love. Lachlan had also rung a few times, trying unsuccessfully to convince Max to give him my contact details. Dear George had phoned too, checking on how I was getting along. I felt touched by the love and care, and guilty at the same time that I had seemingly shut these beautiful people out of my life.

Max got me talking about my feelings one evening, and when I expressed my remorse about Ty's family, he convinced me that I should make contact only if and when I reached a point where I was truly ready to let go and move on. The guilt aside, I was always pleased to learn what had been happening in the lives of these people about whom I had come to care so much.

Scott had finally made a decision and allowed Simon Miller back into his life. They were taking things slowly, and each weekend Simon would make the trip from Toowoomba to Stanthorpe and stay at a local motel. I felt proud of Scott when I learned these weren't just weekend trysts. Each weekend he and Simon saw Andrew Wall together and the former minister lent them his ear and his guidance as they talked through their issues.

Over our most recent meal, Max let me know that Ellie was now overdue and that her specialist was concerned that there could be complications in her delivery. The decision had been made to bypass Stanthorpe Hospital and admit Ellie to Mater Hospital in North Sydney. Having already arrived in the city, the twins were expected any time.

This exciting news created its own problem for me. How much I wanted to see them and to see the babies, but I was scared to just turn up `out of the blue'. The barb from Ty about "worming my way in" still stung. Besides, Ty being Ty, it was probable he would be a constant presence at Ellie's bedside so it was out of the question.

"Send flowers?" Max offered helpfully.

"That's a bit clichéd, Max," I sighed. "These are people I love. Colleagues send flowers."

"Well if you think of a better idea, let me know," Max replied. "Let's have the tiramisu."

My fourth week started with a hot date with Mr. Hoffman; an early morning rendezvous to have my broken tooth replaced with an implant. He was his usual jovial self and after anaesthetising my whole face and putting a screw in my jaw, he relieved me of a four figure sum and sent me on my way. I bypassed the gym, needing instead to lie down for a while.

I flicked on the TV, undressed and slid into bed. I snoozed but my mind was processing the news of the day as seen by the `Today Show'. My eyes opened when, towards the end of the program, I heard them throw to an ad break with a tease -- "coming up next, rock star Tyson Hill reaches out to help a young cancer sufferer." I cringed for Ty, knowing this was not something he would want to do, but at the same time I was relieved that he was holding up his end of the bargain with the record company.

Through the ad break I wrestled with whether or not to watch the segment. A man who was moving on wouldn't put himself through it, but if he was a lawyer he'd probably watch it in case something went awry and Max brought it up over dinner. Yes, that's why I had to watch it.

I sat up and got comfortable as the ad break ended and the program resumed with a throw from the male host. "Welcome back to `Today'. Top Aussie rocker Tyson Hill is gearing up for the release of a new album and the first taste of it will be a special song co-written with a young man battling cancer. Here's Kate Ritchie with more."

The camera panned to the program's showbiz presenter. "It's great to have you back in the `Today' studio, Tyson Hill."

The shot widened to show Ty sitting on a couch, dressed in rock star black; black jeans, a black military-style shirt with silver buttons and epaulets, black suede boots and a thick black belt with a silver buckle. He'd lost some serious weight, but his face was relaxed and framed by a mass of black curls. Fuck he was gorgeous.

The interviewer fed Ty the questions and he responded enthusiastically, explaining how he'd come to meet Daniel and how together they'd written a song to hopefully empower other teenagers living with leukemia. Ty mentioned that he and Daniel had been in a studio in Sydney recording their song, `All You've Got To Give', and that not only had Daniel co-written it, but he also played lead guitar and sang harmony vocals.

Ty went into a detailed and very informed explanation of Daniel's illness, but I found it difficult to focus on what he was saying because I was too distracted by his disarming looks.

He discussed his forthcoming Greatest Hits' album with its bonus tracks, and confirmed that he would be touring Australia and New Zealand to promote it. The interview ended with an invitation for Ty to return to Today' to perform the song with Daniel after its release.

I knew if I stayed in bed, my thoughts would be consumed by Ty so I got up, redressed and headed for the gym. I changed into shorts and a tee and did 30 minutes of bench presses before heading for the bikes for another 30 minutes. I decided against having a swim and hit the showers to clean up. I was pleased to observe in the large mirrors that the regular exercise was starting to tone me up. Back in the locker room I dried off and started getting dressed when my mobile rang.

"Hey Max," I said as I sat on a bench in my boxers.

"You at home?" he asked.

"Nah, I've just finished a workout at the gym."

"So I guess you didn't see Tyson on the `Today' show?"

"I caught it just before I left," I replied.

"It was a good plug for the `Hits' album," Max noted. "I had a call earlier on your phone from a George Larson."

"Ah, dear George," I sighed.

"He's someone's relative I'm assuming?"

"No, George is our ... housekeeper," I explained, after trying to find an all-embracing title for everything George did. "Long story ..."

"He wants to get in touch with you. I told him that wasn't possible because you're on leave, but he was pretty persistent."

"Did he say what it was about? Is everything OK?"

"He didn't exactly say. He's in the city at the moment, and he says he'll be having lunch at the Bambini Trust Restaurant on Elizabeth Street from midday to 2pm, and if you show up, you show up. No problem if you don't."

"He hasn't got Ty with him?"

"No, he specifically said Tyson's doing press interviews all afternoon. You thinking of going?"

"I'd love to see George," I sighed. "But ..."

"Do whatever's right for you, Mike," Max said. "Dinner tomorrow night?"

"Sure."

"Let's say that little Chinese joint on Pitt Street, near Martin Place, 7:30?"

"Done."

I finished dressing and walked slowly back to my apartment. I was faced with a dilemma. In my heart, I was desperate to see George but my logical mind was warning me not to reopen a door that necessity had forced me to close.

For now, logical mind was in control. I dropped my gym gear in the laundry and headed out to the department stores with a list I'd made of things I needed, simple stuff like a good vegetable peeler, a wok, a tall vase, a decent pepper grinder ...

I spent a good 90 minutes wandering around Grace Bros., picking up items I needed. I only stopped because I wasn't able to carry any more bags. I walked outside the store on the north side and realised I was on Elizabeth Street. Surprise, surprise. Naturally, it would be good exercise to walk back to my apartment the long way. Like, past Martin Place for instance.

It was almost one when I found myself standing outside the St. James Trust Building. I gathered my thoughts and called on my inner strength before walking up the stairs to Bambini Trust. I didn't need to wait for someone to show me to my table; the lunch-hour workers had all gone back to their offices and there was George seated at the window, pouring tea from a pot.

I walked up behind him and was about to surprise him when, without turning, he said, "Hello Michael."

When George stood I grabbed him and hugged him. As I sat opposite him I asked, "How did you know I'd come?"

"I didn't," he smiled, "I smelled Viktor & Rolf. Cup of tea?"

"It's so good to see you George," I sighed.

"You're looking very well I must say, sir," he replied, as he pushed the teacup towards me.

"I've been going to the gym every day," I offered.

"I've been very worried about you, sir."

"I'm sorry George. I just don't know how to handle this. I don't know how to stay in touch with everyone after what's happened with Ty and me."

"We're all concerned for you sir," George said. "Mr. Hill has found himself very much on the receiving end of his family's disapproval."

"Every day I have this wrenching guilt about cutting everyone out of my life George," I admitted. "It's just that I can't hope to keep those relationships alive when Ty and I are no longer together."

George stirred his tea unnecessarily for a while before saying, "Every day I live with Mr. Hill's devastation, sir. I know what he did, I know how much he regrets it and I know how much he's suffering because of it."

I looked at my hands for a while. "Did he ask you to tell me this George?"

"Oh no sir, not at all," George assured me. "I just wanted to see you and make sure you're alright. There's just something I need to share with you."

"Yes George?"

"Do you remember when I told you about me and my partner all those years ago?"

"Yes, George. His acting career took off and you got sidelined so he could become a big star in Hollywood."

"It was me who ended it, sir," George said quietly. "I thought it was the best thing for his career, even though he didn't agree. I thought I'd just move on, but that never happened. I never did move on, because I never stopped loving him. Not one day has gone by since then when I don't wonder how things might have turned out if I hadn't made that decision."

I felt tears welling in my eyes. "I'm so sorry, George," I said. "You didn't make that decision because he'd shut you out of his life, or smacked you in the mouth though."

"That's true, Michael," George agreed pensively. "I just want you to know that I understand how you feel right now. I've been there. At the same time, I know how much Mr. Hill really loves you. I've known right from that first day at the Grand Apartment when he knocked on your door. I don't doubt you have good reason to walk away. I did the same thing, and 40 years later I still have my regrets."

I was about to reply when George's mobile registered an incoming text. "Excuse me, sir," he said, before checking his message.

"I'm sorry sir, I need to go," he said. "Ellie gave birth this morning and Mr. Hill wants me to meet him at the hospital straight away."

Despite my seesawing emotions, right now I was thrilled for Lachlan and Ellie. "Everything went OK?" I asked excitedly.

"Apparently, sir," George replied as he paid the bill. "Twin boys, 7 pounds 8 ounces and 7 pounds 10 ounces."

"Boys!" I laughed. "That's fantastic!" As an afterthought I added, "Poor Dot!"

George stood and buttoned his coat. "You're welcome to come with me, sir," he suggested hopefully.

I slumped in my chair. Much as I would love to see Lachlan and Ellie and their baby boys, I just couldn't face Ty. He had hurt me, and in return I had hurt him. Enough was enough.

"I'm sorry George ..."

"I understand sir," said George as he leaned down and gave me a hug. "It's been marvellous to see you. I hope we can do this again some time soon?"

"I'd like that George," I replied, as I tore a piece of tissue paper from my shopping and scribbled on it. "I've kept my new phone number private for obvious reasons, but I'd like you to have it."

"Thank you sir," George nodded. "It will go no further."

I stayed at the table and ordered a bourbon as I watched George hail a cab and head off to the hospital to share a magic moment that for the past nine months I had been so looking forward to.

I was again enveloped by sadness, confronted by the enormity of the decision I had made. I ordered a second bourbon, and a starter dish of figs with Waygu bresaola and goat's cheese. It looked magnificent but I was unable to enjoy it; my tastebuds, like my heart, were numb.

I had just paid for my meal and drinks when my phone alerted me to an incoming message. I opened a slideshow from George. No text, just a photo of Ellie sitting beaming in her hospital bed, holding two indescribably beautiful babies. Again, my eyes filled with tears. They should have been tears of joy ...

I had another restless night, wanting to sleep but with a mind that kept replaying the events of the past few weeks over and over, trying to resolve whether there was anything I could have done that might have changed this heartbreaking outcome.

I got up early, having had only snatches of sleep. I felt wretched; emotionally exhausted and full of regret that I couldn't reach out to a family that had been so kind and accepting of me. Every time I thought of how gracious and forgiving Lachlan had been a year earlier when I mistook him for Ty's long-lost lover, I wanted to curl up and howl. Here was I, so self-absorbed that I couldn't pick up the phone and congratulate him on becoming a dad.

I dressed and went out for an early morning breakfast. I flicked through a stack of latest issue glossies, surprised at how much publicity Ty was getting. Monique had started her campaign with hand-placed pieces about Ty and Daniel's musical collaboration, and she was building momentum about the forthcoming national `Greatest Hits' tour.

Many of the magazines used stock images of Ty supplied by his record company, but the latest issue of InStyle' had a cover shot that had been taken recently. Ty was wearing his usual front cover' grin, but two things struck me immediately; his face seemed so much thinner and his beautiful eyes looked vacant. The sparkle that usually lit up his face was missing.

I pushed the magazine stack to one side; why keep putting myself through this? I picked up a copy of the `Sydney Morning Herald' and waded through all the top stories. The resignation of Queensland Premier Anna Blight after the worst election result for Labor in 65 years, talks of weapons bans in the Middle East, and the listing of a property in exclusive Vaucluse for $14 million.

Sure enough, as I scanned the entertainment column, there was Ty. This time, he was named as a special guest at the upcoming Australian Film Institute awards where all performers were being asked to sing a movie theme that meant something to them personally.

After a couple of hours at the gym, I spent the day ticking chores off a list; I had the car serviced, bought a new pillow and looked for a present for my sister Lyn whose birthday was a fortnight away. I tried to think of it as getting things done but deep down I knew I was only filling in the gaps.

I stayed on auto-pilot until 7pm when I headed out to Mother Chu's on Pitt Street. I was surprised that Max -- a big meat eater - had picked a vegetarian restaurant but he was quick to assure me that I was going to be impressed. "They do stuff and you'd never know it wasn't meat!" he enthused. We shared an assortment of dishes, mostly gluten that tasted like chicken or duck, and a particularly tasty meal of Tempeh with snow peas, walnuts, cashews and vegetables.

Max unobtrusively encouraged me to tell him how I was feeling, so over vegetables and rice, he copped an earful. I rambled about my feelings and Max, as always, sat and nodded wisely. I stopped at one point and asked Max bluntly, "Does any of this make sense to you Max?"

"I can't say I understand exactly how you feel Mike," he replied honestly, "because I've never experienced the kind of love you guys had. I'm here to listen and to sympathise. To make sure you're going to mend, so you can come back to work and make the company truckloads of money."

Aware that I'd dominated the conversation with my gloom, I asked Max how things were in his world, and for the rest of the night he talked enthusiastically about the cricket!

We said goodnight at 9:30 and I declined his offer of a lift back to my apartment, preferring to walk. As I wandered down Market Street I stopped outside a late-night florist and made a spur-of-the-moment decision. I bought the biggest bouquet of red roses I could find and hailed a cab.

"Mater Hospital in North Sydney," I instructed the driver as I climbed into the back seat. "It's on Rocklands Road I think."

The trip was quick and I was deposited at the hospital entrance, suddenly not so sure this was a good idea. I followed the signs to the maternity wing and looked for the youngest nurse I could find, knowing she'd not be quite as strict about visiting hours as the old timers.

"Can you tell me what room Eloise Hill is in?" I asked.

"I've just left her," she smiled. "She's in room 14."

"Does she have a lot of visitors with her?"

"She's had family with her all day," she replied, "but everyone's gone now."

I made my way to the corridor and found Ellie's room. I stuck my head in and caught her brushing her hair. She looked up, possibly expecting a nurse, and her face lit up. "Mike!" she shrieked. "Oh Mike. Thank you for coming!"

I walked to her bedside, put the flowers on her bed, and hugged her so hard I worried I might have cracked her ribs. She kissed me and stroked my cheek. "It's so good to see you Mike!"

"Congratulations Ellie!" I choked. "I'm so happy for you and Lachlan. I thought he might be here?"

"I finally made the nurse send everyone home," she grinned. "Lachie was going to be here all night otherwise!"

"He must be over the moon!"

"You have no idea, mate!" she giggled. "He's so excited I keep thinking he's going to pass out. I swear he'd breastfeed the babies if he could!"

"Everything went OK?"

"Yeah," she laughed. "I'd never say this to anyone else in the family, but I was seriously overdue and I couldn't wait to get the little fuckers out!"

We cackled and Ellie rubbed my arm. "How are you Mike?" she asked sincerely. "We've all been so worried about you."

I smiled. "I'm doing OK, Ellie," I sighed. "You know. Good days, bad days."

"I'm so shocked this has happened," Ellie said quietly. "The two of you were so incredible together, it was the kind of relationship Lach and I aspired to."

"I didn't expect this either, Ellie," I replied. "I feel like I haven't just lost Ty, I've lost a whole family."

"That's nonsense!" Ellie exclaimed. "You haven't lost any of us. Tyson got a right bollocking from everyone, let me tell you. All of us have been very unsympathetic where he's concerned. Well, Dot and Frank are looking out for him, but he got short shrift from Lachlan, Scotty and me."

A matronly nurse walked into the room and looked disapprovingly at me. "It's very late," she said sternly. "Visiting hours ended at eight."

I was about to apologise when Ellie cut me off. "Carol, this is my brother Mike," she said, squeezing my arm to reassure me. "Would there any chance you could bring the boys in so Mike can see them?"

"Not at this hour Eloise. They need their sleep."

"Please? My brother's flying overseas very early in the morning and that means he'll return to London without seeing them."

The nurse scratched her head and smirked. "I've got a feeling that's a crock, but I'm a sucker for a sob story so I'll bring them down. Five minutes, no more."

"If you weren't married, Carol," I grinned, nodding to her wedding ring. "I'd ask you out!"

Carol laughed. "Let's see," she smirked. "Top label clothes, ridiculously expensive shoes, manicured nails, no nose hair, and Viktor & Rolf! Honey, it ain't me you should be asking out. It's Eloise's doctor, Brad Callaghan!"

Ellie and I grinned at each other as we heard Carol chuckle down the hallway and in the next few minutes I tried to make Ellie understand why I was not available to Ty's family. Our heart-to-heart was interrupted when Carol returning with a double tub on wheels.

"Here they are!" she smiled. "One's awake, one's asleep. Let's keep it that way!"

As Carol strolled out I leapt up and looked in the tub, and there they were! Two exquisite newborns swaddled in rugs, one stretching and yawning, the other sound asleep.

"Ellie, they're BEAUTIFUL!" I sighed. They really were. Two tiny little lives with faces like cherubs, with tiny noses and tiny fingers and tiny toes. "Which one is which?"

"We haven't decided on names yet," she replied. "Well, we have, but we just want to sleep on it. They're easy to tell apart -- Lach has named them Awesome 1 and Awesome 2. Awesome 1 has that little mark on his forehead."

I gawked but didn't touch, so Ellie leaned in, scooped up the sleepy Awesome 2 and handed him to me. "He loves a cuddle," she smiled.

As I held him, two tiny eyes looked at me. He half-smiled and half-grimaced and then, with great aplomb, he exploded inside his little nappy. His Mother giggled. "So like his Dad!" she said, rolling her eyes.

"He's just fantastic Ellie!" I marvelled. "He's so ... small, and so perfect."

As I cuddled Awesome 2, I stroked Awesome 1 and in his sleep, his little hand grasped my finger and squeezed.

I lost myself for a while in my enjoyment of these little beings, but all too soon Carol was back. "Sorry Uncle," she smiled, "but it's time Humpty and Dumpty went back to the nursery!"

I handed her Awesome 2 and she tucked him into his tub before wheeling the new generation of Hill brothers back to their temporary home. I sat next to Ellie and held her hands. "I've never been gooey about babies," I said honestly, "but they're gorgeous!"

As I stood to leave, I leaned in and kissed her forehead. "One of the best things about this past year has been getting to know you," I said. "Stay happy! You've got yourself a great guy."

Ellie again reached out her hand and touched my cheek. "I wish everything was the way it was when I first met you guys," she sighed.

She seemed to hesitate before she continued, "Lachie says you're the best thing that ever happened to Tyson."

"Ty will be OK," I tried to assure her.

She nodded but in a distracted away as if her mind was no longer on what we were saying.

I was almost out the door when Ellie called softly, "Mike?"

I turned in the doorway and looked at her. She seemed to be struggling with what was about to come.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this," she finally said, "but Tyson's seeing someone ..."

Instinctively my legal façade kicked in and nothing registered externally. But inside, I felt like I'd been kicked in the guts ...

Always happy to have your feedback. marcusis32@live.com.au

FOOTNOTE: You can hear other versions of songs referenced in this chapter via the following links:

"Seasons Of The Heart": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kb6W58FVFPM