“I’m not?—”
“STWUAN!”
A small body barrels into my legs. I look down to find Lily beaming up at me, arms already raised in the universal “pick me up” gesture.
I glance over at Ainsley’s table. She’s watching, lips pressed thin, but she doesn’t immediately rush over to retrieve her daughter. So I figure I’ve got a minute.
“Hey, Lily.” I lift her onto my lap. “How’s things?”
“I went down the big slide all by myself!”
“Did you now? That one’s too big for me.”
Lily giggles, settling against my chest like she belongs there. And something in me softens, even as I’m aware of Ainsley’s gaze burning into the side of my head.
“When are we going to play Barbies again?” she asks.
“Well . . .”
“I liked it when you played Barbies with me. It was really fun.”
“Aye, it was.”
“Wait.” Isla appears beside us. “Da, you played Barbies with Lily?” She looks between me and Lily, something tight and unsettled in her face.
“He did!” Lily says happily. “And he did all the voices, and then he read me bedtime stories and got me to sleep.”
“You got Lily to sleep?” Isla’s brow furrows.
“Aye.” I keep my voice light. “Just as a favour to Lily’s mum. She had an emergency.”
“Stwuan is my Ardmara daddy,” Lily announces, patting my chest.
Isla folds her arms. “No, he’s not. He’smydaddy.”
“He can be my Ardmara daddy and your home daddy.”
“That’s not how it works, Lily!”
“But he likes me,” Lily says, with the supreme confidence of a four-year-old who’s never been contradicted. “Lots and lots and lots.”
“Girls—”
“No, he likesmelots!” Isla’s face crumples. “He’smyda!”
Wow, this is going sideways fast. Lily’s lower lip wobbles.
“Okay, okay.” I hold up a hand. “Girls, let’s just?—”
But it’s too late. Isla—my sweet, well-behaved Isla—steps forwards and says right into Lily’s face, “He’s MINE!”
Lily bursts into tears. Isla’s eyes fill too.
Jesus. What the fuck is going on?
Heads turn, the low hum of conversation dipping as people glance over at the commotion. Finn and the twins gape from the climbing frame because Islanevermisbehaves. She’s the good one. The sensible one.
Ainsley materialises beside us, cheeks flushed. Hating the attention, naturally.
