“Liv read the yellow page for me.”
“But Liv said tomorrow.”
He’s hooked on that pinky promise idea; so am I, apparently. I caught myself looking forward to a handshake that’s for five-year-olds. Hell of a thing. So no, I didn’t sleep. My head spun circles between work, the stack of files waiting, the cases we’re drowning in, and this new thing brewing between Teddy and Olivia. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before, and I don’t know what to make of it.
Morning comes too early. I’m running on caffeine and stubbornness by the time she shows up. Olivia breezes in right on time, hair pulled into a loose knot, distressed jeans slung low on her hips. Teddy’s already in the kitchen, though he doesn’t look up until she crouches in front of him, pinky finger stuck out. He eyes it for a moment, then hooks his own around hers, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth before he shuffles off toward his cereal. She does that. Makes things lighter. Makes him lighter.
I turn back to the bench, busying myself with his timetable, pretending I don’t notice. What she doesn’t know, what I didn’t tell her, is that I start later this morning. She didn’t need to be here this early. I could’ve managed the drop-off myself. But for some stupid reason, I didn’t say a word. Because if I had, she wouldn’t be here now. And I can’t bring myself to admit I didn’t want that.
“Morning, Bash.”
“Morning, Trouble.” My eyes widen because the nickname just slips out before I can stop it. Yeah. She’s exactly that, though. Trouble in the walking form of a woman.
Her head jerks up, eyes bright. “Trouble, huh? So, I get a nickname now? Does that mean it’s official?”
I shove another book into Teddy’s bag, rolling my eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Too late,” she fires back, grinning like she just won something. I keep my face neutral, but my chest gives that traitorous twitch, the one that says I don’t mind. Not that she needs to know that. We’re all by the kitchen bench now—me running through Teddy’s timetable, her handing over his lunchbox and water bottle—when my phone buzzes across the counter. I hit the speaker button with the back of my knuckle, not looking up from the bag.
“Sebastian,” Sandra’s voice chirps through the line. “Sunday lunch this week. You’re bringing your new babysitter, right?”
Beside me, Olivia goes statue-still. My head snaps up. Her eyes are wide, coffee halfway to her mouth.
“You’re on speaker,” I say with a heavy sigh. “Olivia’s here.”
“Oh! Hi, Olivia. I’m Sandra, the bossy older sister.” Sandra laughs. “We’ve heard wonderful things.”
Olivia rallies with a polite little smile. “H-hi. Hello.”
“Come on Sunday. One o’clock. Mum will overfeed you.”
“Sandra,” I grit out.
“Uh, is this some fancy lunch for an occasion?”
She ignores me entirely with the skill only an eldest sister has. “Nope. Just a normal lunch that we have every Sunday. Wear something casual.”
Olivia glances at me uncertainly, then at Teddy. He’s lining two pencils nose-to-nose along the counter lip, listening without looking.
“Is Olivia coming to lunch?” he asks. It’s quiet but clear.
Well, fuck. I rub a hand over my jaw. “We’ll see, bud.”
He looks up for real then, and I feel the tug in my gut. He’s already decided. He wants her there.
“I’ll come,” Olivia says, soft enough to land without echo. “If that’s alright.”
“Of course!” Sandra exclaims. “Perfect. We’ll see you all then. And Sebastian? Bring dessert. Mum’s on a lamb bender.” She hangs up before I can throttle the plan. The kitchen goes quiet.
Olivia sets her coffee down, cheeks a little pink. “I can make something,” she offers. “Or bring fruit. Or… just anything as a peace offering for inviting myself.”
I shake my head once. “You didn’t. My sister did.” I tap the bench twice to end it. “We’ll sort it.” Teddy slides his hand into mine, two quick squeezes he learned from me. Pinky promises and squeezes.Yeah, I’m fucked.
Sunday lands hot and bright. Mum’s hydrangeas are exploding across the front fence. I park two houses up because the driveway’s a war zone of bikes and old lawn chairs. Olivia arrives right after us in her Toyota Yaris, hops down in boots I’ve seen muddy but are now polished, loose-leg jeans hugging her hips, a white frill top that looks breezy until you realise it’s dangerous. Minimal makeup, if any. Hair loose, a bit wild around her face. Ocean eyes I keep pretending I don’t notice. It should be illegal to look like that when I can’t do a damn thing about it. Mum answers the door with an apron already flour-dusted.
“You must be Olivia.” She pulls her in like they’ve met a dozen times. “I’m Stephanie. Come in, love.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” Olivia says, smiling like sunshine. “You didn’t have to.”
