Chapter 29 #2
From across the yard, I feel his gaze before I see him.
Sebastian showed up around midday after finishing up at the station.
I’d left earlier to run last-minute errands—potato salad, candles, you name it—so I hadn’t seen him much until now.
He’s talking to Xavier near the grill, head tilted, with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers.
The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, forearms flexing as he talks.
I shouldn’t notice the way my body still remembers him—every graze, every thrust, every breathless moan that wrecked me the other night.
But I do. Especially because we haven’t had sex since then.
I hate the part of myself that’s been waiting for him to make the first move again.
Not because I don’t want him, but because I don’t want to be the one who pushes.
I don’t want to come off too eager, too forward, too much. I’m spiralling, clearly.
And to make matters worse right now, Sebastian starts to walk over, pausing briefly to pat Bradley on the back and dodge a stray Nerf bullet. I glance down at Teddy, but he’s distracted by his juice box, casually picking at the sides of the cardboard box.
“Hey,” he murmurs when he reaches me, close enough that his arm brushes mine, bare skin grazing bare skin.
“Hey.”
He nods toward Teddy, who’s now humming to himself and lining up cucumber slices like traffic cones. “You’ve got a shadow today.”
“Jealous?”
He lets out a quiet scoff. “A little. My own kid doesn’t even want to hang around me lately.”
“I’m just more fun, that’s all.”
“More like trouble.”
“That too.” I wink. “But I’m the one who should be jealous. He gets juice boxes and pizza slices with the crusts peeled off. Where’s my VIP treatment?”
His laugh is like gravel stirred in honey. “You want me to peel your crusts, too?”
Something about the way he says it makes the words sound a lot dirtier than they have any right to be.
My eyes narrow. “You offering?”
He dips his head, voice a low rumble meant for me alone. “If I start with your food, I’m not stopping there.”
My cheeks heat instantly, and I bite back a laugh, because what else am I supposed to do when my skin is tingling, my stomach is doing somersaults, and I’m surrounded by my entire family?
I glance around quickly, trying to act normal, even though I feel anything but.
No one’s near enough to hear, not even Teddy. Then I spot Zoe.
She’s sitting at one of the trestle tables beneath the string lights, mid-conversation with Imogen and Mum, but what rattles me is that her eyes are on me. My stomach knots. I shift a step away from Sebastian, and his brow quirks slightly.
“Something wrong?” he asks, his voice lower now, more cautious.
“No,” I say too quickly.
Before he can press, Teddy tugs at my arm, sticky fingers curling around my wrist. “Olivia?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Can we go find the bubbles?”
“Of course.” I ruffle his hair and force a lightness into my voice. “Let’s go pop some magic.”
Sebastian doesn’t say anything as I turn, only watches as I press a rushed goodbye into the air and hurry off with Teddy’s small hand in mine, the heat of his words still echoing under my skin.
By seven p.m., the kids are officially partied out. And by partied out, I mean five rounds of What’s the Time, Mr. Wolf, face painting with Amelia, a dance-off to ‘Let It Go’, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Bradley, and one very aggressive game of hide and seek where I was, of course, the seeker.
Every. Damn. Time.
I’d say I kept this party afloat, thank you very much.
I mean, who else was going to keep the kids entertained while the adults drank beer and avoided responsibility?
Pros and cons of being the only single, childless aunt in a sea of breeding couples.
I’m not complaining. Maybe I am complaining.
My body hurts. Everything fucking hurts.
I’m more exhausted than the time I mucked out the horse stalls, cleaned the chicken coop, and refilled the goat’s water trough while trying to avoid Kevin, the little cunt.
We’re mid-goodbyes when Sebastian nudges my shoulder gently with his.
“Wanna come for coffee?” That’s all it takes.
Teddy perks up. “Can we watch a movie?”
Sebastian laughs, ruffling his hair. “Sure, bud. If you make it home awake. You look buggered.”
Teddy shrugs, clearly too tired to argue, and Sebastian’s eyes flick back to mine, just for a second.
But it’s enough. Laced with heat. That simmering, unspoken kind that I recognise now.
I realise I haven’t responded to him. I grin, throwing Teddy a wink.
“How could I say no to coffee and a movie?”
Teddy’s out before we even hit the main road home.
His head lolls against the seatbelt, lashes fanned across flushed cheeks, one hand still curled around the empty juice box like he’s guarding it with his life.
I fight my own exhaustion in the passenger seat, knowing I’ll need every ounce of energy if coffee really means what I think it means.
Sebastian pulls into his driveway, kills the engine, and turns in his seat. For a long moment, he just watches his son, a quiet kind of love softening the sharp lines of his face. Then he unbuckles, slips from the car, and gently lifts Teddy into his arms.
When we step inside, he whispers over his shoulder, “Let me just put him down. I’ll be out in a sec.”
Good Lord, watching him in all his glory—broad shoulders, steady hands, quiet strength—does something to me. Every time. It’s unfair, really, how attractive he looks like this. In full dad-mode.
“Mummy put me to bed,” Teddy mumbles sleepily against his shoulder. My pulse skips. Did he just? Sebastian stills, a hand instinctively rubbing his son’s back.
“Shh, bud. We’re going to bed now. Daddy’s here.”
Teddy’s voice is louder this time, thickened by tears. “No. I want Mummy.”
The air shifts, and a muscle in Sebastian’s jaw ticks as he swallows. “Buddy, your mummy isn’t coming back, remember? Remember what I told you?”
“But I want Olivia.”
My heart stops. Just stops.
That… no. That can’t be what he meant. Can it?
Sebastian turns, exhaling shakily, and for the first time since I’ve known him, I can actually read his face.
It’s not that usual blank slate where I’m forced to decode him like some puzzle.
No, this time, it’s all there. Fear. Confusion, and something dangerously close to heartbreak, all tangled together in one sharp punch of emotion.
Teddy clings to him, crying harder, saying my name again and again until I can’t stay still. My feet move before my brain catches up.
“Hey, champ.” My voice wobbles, but I force a smile, stepping closer. “I’m here. Your dad’s going to tuck you in, okay? I promise I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He shakes his head, blinking away his tears. “No, I want you to read me a book. The one with the crocodile.”
Sebastian’s throat bobs as he looks at me, silently mouthing, he needs you, just as Teddy reaches out. Before I can even think, he’s in my arms—small body trembling, face pressed into my shoulder. I hush him without words, rubbing slow circles into his back as I carry him upstairs.
“Alright, you,” I say once he’s calmer. “Quick shower, then one story. Then sleep. Deal?”
He nods, already yawning. The shower is fast and warm, and I towel him dry before wrestling him into his pyjamas. By the time I put him to bed, his eyes are already half-lidded. When the book finishes, I brush his hair back, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Goodnight, Mummy,” he mutters, already drifting.
This time, I know it’s not an accident. I don’t know what to do with that, as it punches right through me. Sebastian is in the kitchen when I make it downstairs, leaning against the counter with his head bowed.
“He went out like a light,” I say, trying to sound casual, to cut through the heaviness.
He looks up, offering me a smile. “Thank you.”
I wave it off. “It’s fine. He’s just tired. Big day.”
“Yeah… you’re right.”
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach sink, because a part of me—the stupid, irrational, sentimental part—is hoping Teddy meant it.
That he didn’t just call me Mummy because he’s tired or confused.
God, the idea of being an actual mum never even crossed my mind before today. Sebastian’s voice pulls me back.
“The doctor said it would take time. For him to adjust. To trust again.” He swallows hard, and I see it in him—that weight he carries like armour.
“It wasn’t this easy two years ago. He had meltdowns almost every day.
Would run to the door, crying for her. Screaming.
Kicking. Nothing I did could stop it. And I…
fuck, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know he had autism.
I didn’t know how to help him. I didn’t understand what his safety net was supposed to be, let alone how to become one. ”
I step closer but don’t say anything.
“I worked with a paediatrician for a year. Every appointment. Every workshop. I read books, Olivia. Took notes. Changed the way I spoke, the way I moved, even the food I cooked. I tried everything.” He pauses again, staring at the countertop like it holds the words he can’t quite say.
“She left him,” he says finally. “His mother. She left him on my doorstep two weeks after his third birthday. Said she couldn’t do it anymore.”
Oh, God. Suddenly, that last barrier he’s always kept between us crumbles, just for a moment. “She said he was too much. That he cried too loud, clung too hard. And I didn’t understand it then. I just remember holding him, thinking… I’ll never let him feel like that again.”
My throat burns. “I see it,” I whisper. “Every day. You’re one of the best dads I’ve ever seen. He’s so lucky to have you.”
He shakes his head slightly.