When we reach the beach, we kick off our shoes. The sand is soft beneath our feet, the air carrying that familiar tang of salt, only today it tastes sweeter somehow. The breeze teases Blair’s sundress and tugs at her blonde hair, half clipped up but already coming loose. I have to shove my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching out and tucking a loose lock behind her ear.
“Look, Da!” Finn shouts from ahead. “I can see forever!”
He’s not wrong. The beach stretches endlessly in both directions, dunes rising and falling behind us, sea grass swaying in the wind. A few families are scattered in the distance, but we might as well have the place to ourselves.
“My God,” Blair says. “Back home in New York, a place like this would be packed on a day like today.”
“Aye, well. That’s why I live here and not there.” I shoot her a half-smile. “Not a big fan of crowds.”
“You don’t say? And here was me thinking you were a people person.”
I smirk. Then, spotting a pair of black and white birds picking their way along the shoreline, I point them out to Blair. “Oystercatchers. Listen.”
Their sharp, piping calls carry on the breeze, and Blair tilts her head to catch the sound. “Beautiful view, dramatic birdsong... you’re really spoiling me, captain.”
We spread the blanket near the dunes, far enough from the tide line to stay dry but close enough for Finn to dash between us and the water without me worrying. The idea is that he and Gus might play by themselves for a bit, but of course, Blair and I haveonly just sat down when Finn unzips my rucksack, rummages about, and pulls out a ball. “C’mon, you two! Let’s play!”
So, up we get again, and we have a fun game of catch for a few minutes—until Gus intercepts the ball midair and races off with it in his mouth. We all chase after him, Finn shrieking with delight, Blair’s dress flying, me trying hard to focus on the dog and not that dress.
We get the ball back—slobbery but intact—but now Finn wants to head down to the water. He yanks off his T-shirt without a second thought, and I throw Blair a wry smile before tugging mine off too, stripping to just my shorts. I give Finn a five-second head start before chasing him to the shore. When I catch him, I hoist him up onto my shoulders and race through the shallows, Gus splashing alongside us. Finn whoops, his arms spread out like wings, and Blair’s laughter carries across the beach as she cheers us on.
I run a hundred metres or so before turning and racing back again, then I haul Finn down from my shoulders and dangle him over the water. He squeals, kicking his legs, trying to cling to me.
“Nooo, Da, don’t you dare!”
I grin and plonk him straight in.
He goes under with a splash and comes up sputtering, hair plastered to his forehead, laughing so hard he can barely breathe. Then, with a battle cry, he launches himself at me, skinny arms locking round my stomach.
“Got you now!”
I let him knock me backwards into the surf, water closing over my head. When I surface again, he sits on my chest like he’s just slain a monster, triumphant grin splitting his face.
“Victory!” he crows.
Once he’s milked the moment for all it’s worth, Finn finally clambers off my chest, water dripping from him in streams. Gus shakes himself beside us, spraying both of us with even more. Ihaul myself up, wringing out my hair and shorts, and together we make our way back up the beach.
Blair’s been watching the whole spectacle, amusement written all over her face. She’s sitting on the blanket, arms wrapped round her knees, sundress fluttering in the breeze.
When Finn gets close, he grins wickedly and holds out his dripping arms. “Wet hug!”
Blair lets out a mock scream and scrambles to her feet. “Don’t you dare, mister!”
Finn barrels after her, giggling, while she races across the sand, laughing and protesting the whole way. Gus thinks this is a great game and tears after them, barking like mad.
I stay where I am, watching, chest still heaving from the run and dunking. And it hits me.This.This is what’s been missing. Laughter. Joy. The way Blair makes everything lighter, makes even an ordinary Saturday feel like a holiday.
Blair, with Finn not far behind, doubles back to the blanket, snatches up a towel, and whirls to face him. “Now I’m going to get you!”
Finn turns tail and runs, but Blair catches him, wraps the towel around him, and squeezes him tight. “One hug, just as requested! Only I get to stay dry.”
He squeals, wriggling, then finally surrenders, turning to face her and grinning as she gives his upper half a quick rub dry. They make their way back to the blanket together, Finn now swaddled like a burrito.
I unpack the rucksack: sandwiches, juice cartons, fruit, and the flapjacks Flora dropped round earlier despite her broken wrist. Blair picks one up, takes a bite, and closes her eyes in appreciation. “These are incredible. How on earth did she make these with her arm in a sling?”
“Stubbornness, mostly,” I reply. “Woman’s got more determination than sense sometimes.”
“Her empire biscuits are my favourite,” Finn chimes in. “I can’t wait till her arm’s better so she can make them again.” He licks his lips in anticipation, earning a chuckle from Blair.
