Once Teddy’s settled at the table with an afternoon snack, I grab my phone and shoot off a text to Sebastian.
Me:I’ve officially won over your demon dog.
Me:Bribery works wonders. ??
Me:Also, I had an actual conversation with your son today. You’re welcome.
I drop my phone on the counter, still grinning, still buzzing. Because maybe it’s small. Maybe it’s nothing. But to me? It feels like a start.
9
Sebastian
Family dinners are supposed to feel easy. Familiar. Safe.
But every time I walk into Mum and Dad’s house, I’m reminded that even in my thirties, with a badge, a mortgage, and a five-year-old, I’llalwaysbe the baby of the family. Mum’s at the door first, hair pulled back in her signature bun, cardigan buttoned to the top despite the warm evening. She pulls me into a hug that smells like lavender and roast lamb.
“Sebastian, love.” Her eyes flick straight to Teddy, clinging to my side. “And you, sweetheart. Come here to Nana.”
Teddy hesitates, then lets her scoop him into her arms, his small body stiff at first before he melts just enough for her to press a kiss to his hair. Dad’s in the lounge, remote in hand, pretending he’s not waiting for us even though he absolutely is. His health’s not what it used to be, but he still sits tall, voice firm when he greets me.
“You’re late.”
“Traffic,” I lie, kissing his head anyway. He grunts, but his hand claps my shoulder with weight behind it. That’s his version of a hug.
My sister, Sandra, breezes in next. Eleven years older, married with two kids of her own. She hugs Teddy first, and as expected, he stiffens again, but doesn’t bolt.
“About time,” she says with a smirk. “I thought the police ran on punctuality.”
“Not when you’re off-duty.”
Her husband, Andrew, nods at me from the dining room doorway. Their kids, Lily, twelve, and Timothy, nine, tear past us in a blur of bare feet and shrieks, straight into the backyard. And just like that, dinner is underway. The table groans under roast lamb, potatoes, pumpkin, and gravy in Mum’s old China boat. Teddy sits beside me, picking at his plate. He eats better here, surrounded by family, though he still lines his carrots in a perfect row before touching them.
Mum tops up my glass with a mischievous look. “So. Tell us about this new babysitter.”
My fork pauses mid-air. “Who said anything about a babysitter?”
Her grin only widens. “Oh, Sandra told me she put up an ad for you.”
“Oh, yes. That.” I shoot her a glare, knowing it won’t come across that way to her. “How do you know I have a new babysitter?”
“Uh, because we haven’t heard a peep about how your weeks have been tough, or that you haven’t been managing—”
“Hold on,” I cut off her words. “What if I was doing fine? What if it was because I am actually managing it all well?”
Even as I say the words, I know they sound like complete bullshit. And the look they both share says exactly that. I scoff. “Whatever, then. Yes, I have hired a new babysitter.”
“And we’re extremely glad,” she smiles sincerely. “So, tell us.”
“She’s… fine.” I downplay everything there is to Olivia Mitchell.
Sandra squints. “Don’t lie to us, Sebastian. What’s she like? Anything like the others?”
Before I can deflect, Teddy’s quiet voice breaks through. “She’s loud.”
The whole table stills. Everyone turns to him. He doesn’t usually volunteer much outside his routines, outside me. My chest tightens.
Mum’s eyes go glassy. “Oh, darling,” she says softly, reaching for his hand.
