He nods.
“Does it take a lot of planning?”
He leans back against the chest of drawers. “Bit of a steep learning curve at first. It wasn’t in either of our families, so me and Soph had to figure it all out from scratch. Soph is Isla’s mum, by the way. Anyway, once we found the rhythm of it, it got easier. As long as we plan ahead, Isla can do pretty much everything other kids do. Maybe with a bit of extra thought, but close enough she doesn’t feel left out.”
His smile turns wry. “At least, not because of her diabetes. Having to come to Ardmara at weekends when her pals are having sleepovers in Bannock? That’s a whole other story.”
“Ah,” I say. “There was drama tonight?”
“Och, nothing major. She was a wee bit put out, but we’ve got a plan now. She’s going to host her own sleepover, next weekend hopefully. Crisis averted.” He drains his tea and sets the mug down. “Anyway, back to it.”
“Is there anything I can do? I promise I won’t undo your hard work.”
That earns me a half-smile. “I’m almost done, but if you like, you can take the wrapping off the mattress.”
So I do. We work in comfortable silence, him turning the Allen key with practised ease, me wrestling with industrial-strength plastic. My mind wanders—to “Soph”. He said her name so casually, like they’re still a good team. Clearly better co-parents than me and Danny ever managed. Which isn’t saying much.
A stupid knot twists in my stomach. Envy, maybe. Not of Soph specifically—I couldn’t care less about Struan’s romantic history—but of what they’ve managed to build. A functional partnership. Two parents who actually show up for their kid.
“That’s the frame done,” Struan announces, pulling me from my thoughts.
Together we hoist the mattress onto it. As soon as it’s in place, I flop down onto the bed with a grateful sigh, stretching my arms wide.
“God, this feels amazing.Somuch better than that air mattress.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before I realise what I’ve done. I’m lying sprawled across a bed, Struan Walker standing over me.
What the hell is wrong with you, Ainsley?
I scramble upright, smoothing down my hoodie like that’ll restore some dignity. “Thank you, Struan. Really.” I gesture at the bed. “If it wasn’t for you, this would still be in pieces. Or out the window.”
He smiles that disarming half-smile. “No problem.”
I think he’s going to go. But instead, he steps closer.
My pulse stutters.
“You’ve got something in your hair.”
His fingers brush my temple, gentle as he plucks free a bit of polystyrene packaging caught in the strands. He flicks it aside.
But he doesn’t step back.
His eyes meet mine, and the air between us thickens. Shifts. Warmth spreads through me, a prickling awareness that starts at my scalp and travels down my spine.
Step back, I tell myself.Step back right now.
But I don’t move.
Why am I not moving?
His gaze drops to my mouth, and for a moment, just a moment, I think he’s going to?—
Peals of laughter echo from across the landing.
I jolt backwards, the spell shattered. Coming to my senses, I snatch up his jumper and thrust it at him.
“Here,” I blurt, my voice far too high. “You should—I need to start Lily’s bedtime routine.”
