These days I only come back to water him or to grab something I haven’t moved into Lachlan’s bedroom yet. I pretty much live in the main house now. But tonight I’ve got my weekly video call with my parents, and that’s still a granny flat activity. They don’t know about Lachlan and me, and honestly, I’m not sure what they’d think if they did.
I set my laptop on the little table by the window and call them. Within moments Mom and Dad’s faces pop up on-screen, both grinning from their kitchen in Staten Island, coffee mugs in hand.
“There’s our Scottish lass!” Dad beams. “You look well, Blair. Is that sea air working its magic?”
I laugh. “Either that or all the walking. Finn’s got more energy than a golden retriever—and I’ve been walking one of those too.”
“Gus, yes?” Mom says warmly. “So sweet. Go on, tell us about your week.”
We chat about the weather (gorgeous), the local food (I’ve developed a serious addiction to tablet, which is basically Scottish fudge), and my adventures with Finn. I find myself editing carefully, talking about our trips to the library and the beach, but leaving out the parts that might make my parents ask awkward questions about my living arrangements.
“And how’s everything else going?” Mom asks. “You seem so much more relaxed than when you first arrived.”
If I were going to tell them about Lachlan, this would be my opening. The perfect moment to admit he’s become more thanjust my employer. To tell them how he makes me laugh with his dry humour, how he looks at me like I’m something precious, how Finn has wormed his way completely into my heart.
But something stops me. The words won’t come.
It’s not that I don’t trust my parents. We’ve always been close, and I’ve never been one to keep secrets from them. But this feels different. Like Lachlan, Finn, and I exist in this perfect little bubble here in Ardmara, and talking about it out loud with my mom and dad might pop it.
Or maybe I’m just not ready to put words to whatever this is yet. Especially when I’ve no idea where it’s going.
“Everything’s good,” I say instead. “Really good.”
Dad adjusts his glasses. “And you’re still enjoying the nannying?” Then he quickly adds, “And that wasn’t my way of asking about jobs back in New York! I know better than to ask about that.”
I grin at his hasty backpedal. “Well, funnily enough, I heard from an old colleague today.” I tell them about Clara’s message and Nora Cartwright asking about me.
Both their faces light up.
“That’s encouraging!” Mom says, leaning forward. “Maybe there’s a chance for you to get back into children’s publishing after all?”
“I don’t have any details yet,” I say, trying to temper their expectations. “All I can do is wait and see if Nora even gets in touch.”
Briefly, I wonder why I’m telling my parents about Clara’s message when I’ve already decided not to mention it to Lachlan yet, at least not until I’ve heard from Nora herself. Maybe because they’re part of my New York life and Lachlan isn’t? I’m not sure I’m ready for those worlds to meet.
“Still, it’s exciting,” Dad says. “We both miss you, you know. This is the longest we’ve ever gone without seeing you.”
“I know. I miss you guys too.” And I do, I really do. But the thought of leaving here, leaving Lachlan, Finn, and Gus...
“How much longer are you acting as a nanny for this boy?” Mom asks.
“Well, he goes back to school on the fourteenth of August, which is...” I pause, doing the mental math.
“In a week,” Mom supplies helpfully.
A week.How did that happen? When I first arrived, six weeks felt like forever. Now, with Lachlan’s arms around me every night, and Finn chattering about otters and whatever else every day, time has somehow slipped through my fingers.
What happens in a week? When Finn doesn’t need me anymore? When Lachlan doesn’t need me anymore? We’ve been so caught up in the spell of this summer that we haven’t talked about... after.
Mom, Dad, and I chat for a few more minutes before saying our goodbyes. When I close the laptop, the granny flat feels too quiet, Gerald’s leaves stirring in the sea breeze drifting through the open window.
One week.
I need to talk to Lachlan. Tonight. We can’t keep pretending this summer will last forever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LACHLAN
