“Aye, well, that’s all I wanted to say. Oh, and thank you. Finn had a good time today. Hasn’t shut up about you all night.”
A ghost of a smile crosses her lips, there and gone so quickly I almost miss it.
“And that was a nice thing you did,” I continue, the words coming easier now. “Dropping in baking for Flora. Thanks for that. And obviously, if you go to the shops to buy anything, like ingredients for baking, I’ll cover all that. You just tell me how much I owe you.”
“Understood. Well, if that’s everything... good night, captain.” A hint of mischief curling her lips, she eases the door shut, like she’s having the last word. Which, of course, she is.
CHAPTER NINE
LACHLAN
The windscreen wipers battle the rain as I pull into our driveway. Another grey Scottish Saturday, the kind that makes you grateful for a warm house and nowhere to be. We’ve just been at the Pit—soft play with Struan, Douglas, and their bairns, our usual weekend ritual—and my ears are still ringing from the noise. A quiet afternoon at home will do me just fine.
“Right then, lad,” I say, switching off the engine. “What’s it to be? We could stick on a film, maybe build that Lego castle you’ve been on about, or?—”
“Can we ask Blair to join us?”
I blink, caught off-guard. Not the answer I was expecting. “Blair doesn’t work weekends, remember? She gets her own time.”
Finn unbuckles his seat belt but doesn’t move to get out of the car. Instead, he turns those big brown eyes on me. “But she’s probably lonely in the granny flat all by herself. And it’s raining, so she can’t even go for walks or anything.”
Blair’s second and third day with Finn went well, so she’s officially his nanny for the summer. But that doesn’t mean I want her encroaching on our weekend time.
“Blair’s a grown-up, Finn. She can take care of herself. Besides, I was looking forward to some time with just my boy.” I ruffle his hair. “Come on, let’s get inside. You’ll have to run—you don’t want to get soaked.”
We make a dash for the front door, and once we’re inside, I shake the water from my jacket while Finn kicks off his muddy trainers. Gus dances around us, thrilled to have his people home again.
“So,” I say, hanging my jacket on the hook by the door, “what’s it to be? A film? Lego?”
“Hmm...” Apparently, neither of those options are grabbing his interest. “Maybe we could build another fort?” he suggests finally, though his tone is flat and there’s none of the usual spark in his eyes.
“Aye, brilliant idea,” I say with more enthusiasm than he’s giving me. “We could make it even bigger than the last one. Enough room for you, me,andGus this time.”
“And Blair?”
There it is again. I bite back my irritation and crouch down to his level. “Look, son, Blair’s with you Monday to Friday. Weekends are when she gets a break, and when you and I get our time together. Just the two of us, like always.”
His brow furrows, like he’s trying to puzzle something out that doesn’t make sense. “Are you saying she only likes being with me because it’s her job?”
Christ. How do you explain to a six-year-old that the world is complicated, that people can care about you and still need to be paid to spend time with you?
“It’s not that simple, lad. Blair does get paid to look after you, aye, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy it. But even people who like their jobs need time off. And I like spending time with you too, you know. You’re my favourite person in the whole world.”
Finn considers this, chewing on his lower lip the way he does when he’s thinking hard. “Okay,” he says finally. “Can we still make the fort?”
“Absolutely.”
We build this one in the living room for extra space, but even as we gather supplies—blankets from the cupboard, cushions from the sofa, chairs from the kitchen—I can tell his heart isn’t in it. He goes through the motions, helping me drape the blankets and arrange the cushions, but there’s no excitement in it. No joy.
Twenty minutes later we’ve got a decent fort set up. Not bad, if I do say so myself. Gus has already claimed a corner as his own, circling twice before settling down with a contented huff.
“Right then,” I say, crawling inside and patting the space beside me. “What happens in here now we’ve finished it?”
But Finn doesn’t follow me in. He sits cross-legged outside the entrance, picking at a loose thread on one of the cushions.
“Finn? You coming in?”
“I think I’ll just go to my room,” he says quietly.
