Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LACHLAN
Saturday morning, and the kitchen smells like cheat-morning indulgence.
Pancake batter sizzles in the pan while bacon pops and crackles beside it.
Gus sits hopefully beside me, nose twitching at every delicious smell, a thread of drool dangling from his jowls.
Finn’s at the table in his pyjamas, working on some elaborate drawing of what looks like a dragon fighting a pirate ship.
I stack the first batch of pancakes on a plate and start the next round, humming under my breath. Christ, when did I start humming?
“Fancy nipping round and asking Blair if she wants pancakes?” I ask Finn, reaching for two mugs from the cupboard.
He looks up, already pushing back from the table. “Sure.”
He hops down from his chair, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor, but slows halfway to the back door.
“Da?” Even in just that one word, there’s a careful note to his voice, like he’s testing the waters.
“Aye?”
“I was wondering... was Blair in the en suite last night?”
Shiiiiitttttt.
“Why do you say that?” I manage, buying myself time while my brain races. Christ. He’s six. Too young for this. Way too young.
“I thought I heard her,” Finn says matter-of-factly. “When I came into your room after my bad dream.”
Fuck.
I switch off the hob and draw a steadying breath. “You might’ve done,” I say slowly, turning to face him properly. “Tell you what. How about just us lads have breakfast this morning? You and me. And we can have a proper chat.”
Finn shrugs and wanders back to the table, resuming his drawing. As if he hasn’t just turned my world upside down with one innocent question.
I finish plating up the pancakes, hands steadier than they’ve any right to be, mind racing.
What do I say? How much is too much? And how little is too little?
Douglas and Struan already know. If I brush Finn off now and something slips out at the Pit.
.. no, better he hears it from me. Straight from his da.
I set his plate down and slide into the chair opposite him. “There you go. What do you think?”
He takes a massive bite. “It’s yummy.” He swallows, then brightens. “Do we have maple syrup? Blair says nothing’s better than maple syrup on pancakes. It comes from Canada. Did you know that? That’s where Blair was born, even though she lives in New York.”
So much for easing into this. He’s steered us right back to Blair. I’d rather have planned this conversation. Talked it through with her first. But here we are.
I cut into my own pancakes, buying myself another moment. “So, about last night...” I clear my throat. “Aye, you did hear Blair in the en suite, Finn.”
He looks up at me, fork suspended halfway to his mouth, waiting.
“You like Blair, right?” I say.
He nods decisively, no hesitation there.
“And I like Blair too. But sometimes when two adults like each other... that can turn into something more than being just friends.”
His brow furrows like he’s working through a tricky sum. “You mean like... wanting to kiss each other?”
Heat creeps up my neck. Christ, he’s sharp. “Aye. Like wanting to kiss each other.”
“And...” He tilts his head, studying me with those serious brown eyes that are so like his mother’s. “Have you kissed Blair, Da?”
My throat feels tight. “Aye. I have.”
Finn considers this, chewing thoughtfully. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the tick of the kitchen clock and Gus’s panting.
Finally, he nods. “Okay.”
That’s it? Just . . . okay?
I wait, expecting more questions, protests, confusion. But he just goes back to his pancakes like we’ve been discussing the weather.
“Do you have any more questions?” I ask.
He pauses mid-chew, thinking. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay. Well, let me know if you think of anything else. But Blair and I... we’re still figuring this out, all right? Nothing’s changed between you and her. She’s still your nanny, and she’s still going to be looking after you while I’m at work.”
Another nod, another bite. Then, around a mouthful: “I like it when Blair’s here. You smile more.”
His words catch me off-guard. I have to swallow hard before I can speak.
“She makes both of us smile, eh?” I reach out and ruffle his dark hair.
He grins, mouth sticky with syrup. “Aye.”
Well, that went better than expected. Much better. But now comes the next challenge, telling Blair that Finn knows.
A little while later, Finn, Gus, and I are outside the granny flat, Finn pounding on Blair’s door. My palms are damp, which is ridiculous. I’ve captained ferries through Force 8 gales, but telling a woman that my six-year-old knows we’ve been kissing? Terrifying.
Blair opens the door, looking a little puzzled. “Hi! Everything okay?”
I understand her confusion. The last three weekends, we knocked on her door bright and early, inviting her over for breakfast. Today we didn’t and she’s probably wondering why.
“Aye,” I say. “We’re going for a walk into town. Fancy joining us?”
She lights up. “Of course. Just give me a minute to get my shoes on.”
Soon we’re making our way along the path that hugs the shoreline.
The sky’s overcast, pewter clouds hanging low, and the sea’s choppy, white caps breaking against the harbour wall.
Gulls wheel overhead, their cries sharp on the salt air.
There’s tension in the weather that matches what’s twisting inside me.
We pass boats bobbing in the water. Mooring lines strain and creak, and Gus snuffles hopefully at empty fish crates. Finn skips ahead, fascinated by a boat unloading the day’s catch, silver scales glinting in the grey light.
Right. No more putting this off.
“So... when I was making breakfast, Finn asked me if you were in the en suite last night.”
Blair falters mid-step. “Oh. Wow.” She glances at me. “And... what did you say?”
“I was thrown by it. But I didn’t want to lie. So I told him, aye, you were.”
A beat of silence. Then a woman passing with a shopping bag calls, “Morning!” and leans down to ruffle Gus’s ears. Blair returns the woman’s greeting with an easy smile, but as soon as we move on, the smile falters. “What else did you say?” she asks quietly.
“I said . . . well . . .”
Christ, this is awful. I don’t know how to define this thing between me and Blair, yet now I have to tell her what I told my son about us? Awkward as fuck.
“I said sometimes, when two adults like each other, it turns into more than friendship. Kept it simple.”
Her expression doesn’t give much away. At last, though, she nods. “I think that’s okay.”
But there’s more to say. “He asked me if that means we’ve kissed. I said yes.”
Another pause. Ahead, Finn runs to the Fisherman’s Memorial, a bronze figure of a man hauling a net, face set to the sea. He circles the base, balancing along the edge as if it’s a tightrope.
“I know this complicates things,” I say. “I didn’t plan it. I just... didn’t want to lie to him.”
“Yeah. I understand that. It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
She lets out a quick laugh, maybe too quick. “Yes! I’m sure.” Then her smile slips again. “I just... don’t want Finn thinking I’m taking his mom’s place. And... you know, I’m only here for the summer.”
A knot tightens in my chest. “Aye. Adult relationships are a bit of a mystery to him, but I told him we’re still figuring things out, and he seemed to get that.”
“He is clever for six.” Her smile reappears, more certain now. “I think you did the right thing. Best to be honest with him.”
Her smile coaxes one out of me, and I blow out a breath. “Right, then. How about takeaway coffees from the Lighthouse Café? And a top hat for Finn while we’re at it.”
“Please! I had to have instant this morning. I hate that stuff so much.”
We collect our drinks and Finn’s marshmallow treat, then Blair and I settle on a bench at the play park while Finn runs off to join some other kids on the swings.
Our conversation moves on to lighter things as we watch him pump his legs, hair flying, then race over to the climbing frame and clamber up it.
Once the coffees are done and Finn is all played out, we head back to the house.
When we’re almost there, and there’s no one else in sight, Blair says, “If Finn knows we’ve kissed, presumably we can hold hands?” And without waiting for an answer, she slips her hand into mine. It’s warm, soft, and fits perfectly.
Up ahead, Finn glances back. His eyes flick to our linked hands, and for a moment he stares. I tense, braced for more questions.
Instead, he smiles—bright and uncomplicated—then turns and races on, Gus bounding beside him.
After that, my chest feels lighter with every step home.