Finn jumps off his seat and walks over to the cork board, reaching for the photo of him and his mum. “Now we just need to?—”
“Whoa, hold on. The frame needs to dry first. If we don’t let the glue set properly, all your beautiful shells will fall off.”
“Oh.” Finn’s shoulders slump. “How long does it need to dry?”
“A few hours at least. Let’s wait until your dad gets home, then you and him can put a photo in. That photo or a different photo...”
I really don’t want to be accused of overstepping again.
“Okay.” Finn is clearly disappointed but he doesn’t argue. Instead he studies the frame critically. “Do you think Da will like it?”
“Your dad is going to love it. You made it with your own hands, and that makes it incredibly special. Now, let’s go do something else while we wait for your masterpiece to dry.”
We’re in the backyard when Gus’s ears prick at the sound of a car in the drive. He barks once, sharp and eager, before tearing off around the side of the house. Finn bolts after him, yelling, “Da!”
I gather up the scattered toys—plastic dinosaurs, a ball Gus slobbered half to death—and drop them in the storage boxes by the back door. By the time I step into the kitchen, Finn is already tugging Lachlan through from the hallway, Gus dancing around their legs.
“Here it is!” Finn announces, pointing at the table. “A photo frame for Mum’s picture. Blair helped me make it!”
My stomach tightens.Here we go again.
Lachlan studies the decorated frame, then his eyes flick to me. I can’t read his expression, so I jump in before he can say anything.
“We made a photo frame,” I clarify. “There isn’t a picture in it yet, and it’s up to you what goes in it. But Finn was very keen to decorate it and make it look nice, and... well... I didn’t want to discourage his creativity.”
The silence stretches. Finn looks between us, his enthusiasm dimming as he picks up on the tension.
Lachlan steps closer to the table and runs his fingers along the frame’s shells and sea glass. “You did a brilliant job. It’s beautiful, Finn.”
Finn brightens instantly. “Really?”
“Really.” Lachlan goes over to the cork board, takes down the photo, then carefully slides it into the frame. “There. Perfect.”
Finn beams. Then, hopefully, he asks, “Can I make more? For other pictures?”
“Aye, if you and Blair want to make more frames, go right ahead. It’d be nice to put up a few more photos around here. Make it less like a show home.” He throws me a look as he says this last bit, quoting my own accusation back at him, but there’s a teasing curve to his mouth. He’s not mad at me. For once.
Lachlan glances toward the window. Outside, late-afternoon light spills across the water like melted gold. “I know from this amazing frame that you’ve already been to the beach today, Finn, but fancy another stroll?”
“Aye!” No hesitation. In Finn’s world, no one in their right mind would say no to more beach time.
Lachlan looks at me. “Blair? Would you like to come? No pressure,” he adds quickly. “Only if you want to.”
My stomach gives a funny little flip. It’s as though last night’s argument never even happened.
“Okay,” I say uncertainly. “That sounds nice.”
Minutes later, the three of us are crunching across the pebbles while Gus hurtles after the stick that Finn keeps throwing for him.
After a few more tosses, Lachlan says, “Finn, take Gus down to the water and play fetch with him there. But stay where we can see you, aye? I want to have a grown-up chat with Blair.”
“Okay, Da!” Finn whoops and charges off, stick in hand, Gus galloping beside him.
Lachlan and I stand there for a while, saying nothing, just watching Finn shriek with laughter while Gus acts like every toss of the stick is the best thing that’s ever happened.
Then Lachlan runs a hand through his hair. “Blair, I... Christ, this is hard.”
I wait. Not going to throw him a lifeline, but not twisting the knife either.
