After a few more attempts, I give up and set the guitar aside.
I sit in the quiet and stare at the wall that separates my house from hers.
Just a few inches of plaster and brick. But right now it feels like an ocean.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
STRUAN
The Pit is heaving.
Every screech, every thud of small bodies hitting foam, every parent’s weary “Be careful!” bounces off the walls and rattles around my skull like loose change in a tumble dryer. Sunday soft play wasn’t part of the original plan, but the rain’s been hammering down since yesterday morning with no sign of letting up, and there’s only so much kids’ TV a man can take before he starts losing the will to live.
“So let me get this straight.” Douglas leans back in his plastic chair, arms folded, looking far too pleased with himself for a man trapped in the Pit on a Sunday. “You shagged your client. Who also happens to be your neighbour.”
“Wait a minute—” I start, but Lachlan cuts me off.
“Bold move, Struan. Very bold.”
Blair’s mouth twitches, like she’s trying not to laugh.
“It wasn’t like that.” I take a sip of truly horrific coffee. “She’s not my client anymore. Nothing happened while I was working for her.”
That’s technically true. The dry-humping-on-my-back-step incident occurred after hours. And in my own garden. So... aye.
“Flora said your mum walked in on you naked,” Lachlan says, one eyebrow raised.
Bloody Flora. Don’t know whether it was my mum or Ainsley’s who couldn’t hold their tongue. Either way, Flora—Lachlan’s neighbour—found out, and naturally she mentioned it to Lachlan. So here we are.
I suppose it’s just a bit of banter. A bit of good-natured teasing. Only it really fucking stings.
Of course, I’m hardly going to say that to them. So instead I smile sheepishly and say, “Aye, well,thatbit is true.”
At this, Blair can’t contain her laughter. It bursts out, and she holds Lachlan’s shoulder to keep from doubling over. He looks at her with this soft expression that twists something in my chest.
Because that’s what I want.
Not the casual hook-ups I’ve been coasting on for years. Not the empty house that greets me every Sunday night after I’ve dropped Isla home.
I want someone who stays. Someone like?—
I shut that thought down hard and drain the rest of my coffee.
“Da!” Isla appears at my elbow, face rosy from the climbing frame.
“All right, princess? Having fun?”
She gives me a small smile. She’s been a bit off this weekend. Turns out she overheard the call Sophie and I had earlier in the week. The one where I was a complete dick.
Yesterday she offered to cancel her paddleboarding course because she didn’t want it to upset me. I felt about two inches tall.
“Can I sit here for a minute?” she asks.
“Course you can.” I pat the chair beside me, and she swings herself onto it. “So, what’s the chat from the soft-play frame?”
“Logan says there’s a secret tunnel at the top, but I couldn’t find it.”
“Oh, aye? Well, maybe it’sreallysecret. Or maybe Logan’s just winding you up. You’ve been coming here for years. Pretty sure there’s not a secret tunnel you don’t know about.”
