“Well, I do. Two friends, actually.”
“Who?”
“Ellie—and you, of course.”
The smile that spreads across Finn’s face could power the entire town.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LACHLAN
I push through the front door, shrugging off the day’s tension, braced for the usual chaos of boy and dog hurtling towards me like I’ve been gone a year instead of a day.
Nothing.
“Hello?” I call, tossing my keys onto the hall table. The clatter sounds too loud in the silence. No thunder of paws on the floorboards, no shout of “Da!” Strange. Gus never misses my homecoming. The daft beast has an internal clock set to four on the dot.
I wander through to the kitchen and stop short.
Christ.
Dishes piled in the sink. Flour dusted across the work surface. What looks like cookie dough welded to the side of my mixer.
Baking? That sure as hell wasn’t on today’s schedule. A tea towel lies crumpled on the floor, and something sticky is smeared across the table.
I run a hand through my hair, jaw tightening. Really? I don’t want to come home after eight hours of running a ferry to find my kitchen looking like a bomb has gone off.
Muffled voices drift down from upstairs—Blair’s, mostly, doing some sort of theatrical performance by the sound of it. I follow the noise up to Finn’s room, where his door stands ajar.
Through the gap, I can see them settled in the corner on his beanbag. Blair’s gotZogopen across her lap, and she’s putting on quite the show. Big booming lines for Madame Dragon, squeaky ones for the pupils, even a croaky growl when Zog takes a tumble. Finn’s in stitches, actual tears on his cheeks.
And there’s Gus, the traitor, lying on his back with his legs in the air while Finn rubs his belly. The dog’s in absolute heaven, a happy grumble rumbling through the room. Well, that explains why he didn’t come running when I got home.
I find myself leaning against the doorframe, oddly transfixed. I’ve read that book to Finn a hundred times, but never like this. I just... read it. Normal voice, normal pace. Gets the job done, and Finn enjoys it well enough. But watching him now, gasping for breath, it’s clear this is something different.
Then Blair glances towards the door and spots me, and just like that, the magic stops.
“Oh! Hi.” She closes the book, a little flustered. “We were just?—”
“Finishing up,” I say, stepping into the room. My voice comes out sharper than I intended, but the kitchen downstairs is still fresh in my mind. “Finn, how was your day?”
“Brilliant!” He bounces on the beanbag. “We went to the park and I saw Logan and Rosie, and we got top hats from the Lighthouse Café, and Blair does the best voices ever, and?—”
“Sounds like you had quite the adventure.” I look pointedly at Blair. “Though I noticed the kitchen isn’t quite how I left it.”
Her face falls. “Oh God, yes, I’m so sorry. I-I’ll go do the dishes right now.”
The apology is immediate and genuine, but I’m already wound up. I’m probably overreacting but I can’t seem to stopmyself. “No, you won’t, because I’m only paying you until four. Besides, when I get home, I want to be able to relax in my own house with just me and my son and my dog.”
Something flashes in Blair’s eyes, and for a second I think she’s going to give me both barrels. Her mouth opens and I brace myself.
But then she swallows whatever she was about to say and nods stiffly. “Of course. I’ll make sure to keep things tidier tomorrow. That is, assuming I haven’t already lost the job?”
“No,” I confirm. “But you’re still very much on trial.”
Gus finally gets up and pads over to me, nudging at my leg with his nose. I ignore him for now. Not the time for behind-the-ear scratches and a chat about his day.
“Right. Well,” Blair says, standing and smoothing down her jeans. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”
