“It’s my son, Olivia. You couldn’t ruin my night.” I step just out of earshot from the boys, covering my other ear to hear her better over the noise inside. “Besides, I think I’ve heard all that there is to know about weddings. I needed an excuse to escape.” To come home.To see you.
She lets out a soft laugh, too quiet through the line, before we hang up. I shove the phone in my pocket and walk back to the table. Bradley glances up from his beer, instantly clocking the shift in my face. “Everything alright?”
“Teddy’s running a fever.” I grab my jacket from the back of the chair. “Gonna cut this one short and head home. Sorry, boys.”
Bradley looks up, gives a slow nod, but his eyes don’t leave me. “Hopefully it’s nothing serious.”
“Give the kid a hug from me,” Harrison says.
I huff a laugh. “I’ll try, but can’t say he’ll accept it.”
Harrison gasps. “Who wouldn’t accept a hug from me?”
“Many, many people,” Michael mutters.
With one last smirk, I throw a half-hearted salute and saunter out. When I eventually push my front door open, the house is still. The kind of quiet that feels like it’s holding its breath. I toe off my shoes, moving through the hall without a sound. The soft hum of the air-con filters from upstairs.
Teddy’s door is cracked open. I ease it wider, and stop. He’s curled against Olivia, his small body tucked into her side, one arm draped over her stomach. She has her head resting back against the pillow, while her fingers smooth through his hair. Every part of me goes still, because I’veneverseen him look so content.
“Hey,” she whispers, finally looking up. “He’s still burning up a little, but I gave him some Nurofen about fifteen minutes ago. His temperature should come down soon.”
“Thanks,” I murmur. The floorboards groan beneath me as I walk over. “You should’ve called sooner.”
She shakes her head. “Didn’t want to drag you home for a mild fever. He’ll sleep it off.” She shifts carefully, lifting Teddy’s small arm from her waist and tucking him under the blanket with practised gentleness.
“See? Out like a light.”
I crouch beside the bed, pressing a kiss to his temple. The heat under my lips hits like a punch. It’s not dangerously high, but enough to hurt. That invisible thread between father and son pulls taut—his discomfort echoing in every part of me—and I’d been out tonight.
Laughing. Drinking. Letting go. While he was here like this.
You’re doing fine. You can still be a good dad and have a night to yourself.
The thought doesn’t quite land, not fully. Beneath the guilt, however, there’s something else, something quieter.Gratitude. For her. For the way Olivia stayed calm when I clearly couldn’t. For the way Teddy trusts her enough to fall asleep on her chest.
Sure, I’m paying her.That’s what the rational voice reminds me. But the other one, the one I’ve been ignoring for weeks, knows it’s starting to feel like something more. She gently brushes a curl from Teddy’s forehead.
“Let him rest,” she whispers. I nod, watching as she slips out the door. I leave it cracked, just enough to let a sliver of light through. When I reach downstairs, Olivia is perched on the couch, posture relaxed but eyes still alert. The idea of asking her to leave now… feels wrong. So instead, I do the opposite.
“Want something to drink?” I ask. “Water, tea, coffee?”
Her head lifts, eyes soft with surprise. “Tea sounds nice.”
I clear my throat, grateful for the excuse to stand, to move, to do something with my hands. While the kettle heats, she callsout. “So… how was your night with my brothers?” There’s a nervous edge tucked in there. I hear it.
“Loud,” I say, reaching for two mugs. “And chaotic. As usual.”
A faint smile pulls at her mouth, like she’s relieved I didn’t mention anything embarrassing. Or maybe relieved I came home early. I carry the mugs over, finding her watching me with that open, curious look she always has. I take a seat beside her and flick on the TV, keeping the volume low. The screen lands onThe Rookie. Her whole face brightens. “Oh, I love this show.”
“Of course you do.”
She narrows her eyes playfully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just don’t get the hype,” I say, nodding at the screen. “It’s so unrealistic. Half of this shit would never happen.”
She rolls her eyes so hard, her whole head goes with it. “Well, duh. It’s a fictional TV show, Officer Buzzkill.”
“You just like watching grown men cry in uniform.”
