“So next time, she is on her fucking own for dinner. No wonder she is still single,” I grumble to him as I drop down into one of the outdoor chairs and take a large gulp of my beer. In my head, I’m wishing it was something much stronger.

“Says the man who is also single, stubborn, and as cantankerous as it gets most days.” Flynn sits down in the chair next to me as Nic turns around and leans on the railing, with Rem beside him.

“You two finished bickering like a couple of schoolboys? Fuck, how did your mother put up with you both?” Nic is smiling because he knows as much as we do that we still love each other, and in five minutes, all will be forgotten.

“She shipped the annoying son to the other side of the world so she didn’t have to put up with him,” I say, changing my tone to a joking one so Flynn knows I don’t mean it.

“You wish. I left on my own accord to get away from the constant praise of the golden boy in the family, Forrest. I got to play up all I liked, and Mum had no idea what I was doing, and it was awesome.” Looking proud of himself, he holds out his hand to fist bump with Nic as the smiles on their faces tell me they are remembering the time they spent together in Sydney being playboys.

“Oh, please, we all know you are the little golden boy.” Having had enough of this debate that we get into all the time, I change the topic because I know Flynn’s brain flicks from one thought to another easily with a distraction. “Moving on, anyone up for a trip to the Grand Prix in Las Vegas at the end of November?” I watch all their eyes light up for a petrol-fueled boys’ trip away.

“I’m in,” Rem says.

“Obviously.” Flynn looks at me like he can’t believe I even had to ask.

“That’s a given.” Nic lifts his beer in the air to acknowledge he is keen. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to watch the young Aussie guy kick their butts.”

“Plus, it’s Vegas, baby!” Flynn chimes in.

“Great. Got a guy I used to work with who is now working for the Maclaren team, and I was messaging with him last night, and he said he could get me box tickets if we were up for it.

“The only way to do a Grand Prix is in that kind of style, I would say, but Brother, couldn’t you have got us into the Ferrari team pits instead? Orange is not my color and red is much better for my complexion.” Flynn smirks and is back to his joking self.