“Yup. Never seen another soul here, so I’m claiming it. Finder’s keepers.”
He looks at me again, then lets his gaze sweep back over the tulip field. “It’s…” He exhales, like the word got knocked out of him. “Unreal.”
We settle on the soft grass at the edge of the field, the overflowing picnic basket between us. Teddy’s already gone rogue, scampering around collecting fallen petals. His gleeful shrieks echo across the field every time a butterfly flutters too close. I packed his toys and half his car collection, so he’s thriving. Wildly entertained. Zero complaints.
I pass Sebastian a sandwich, and when he takes it, his fingers graze mine—warm, slow, intentional. His eyes meet mine, soft in a way they rarely are, like they’ve forgotten how to be anything else around me. He doesn’t speak, just reaches out and gives my hand the gentlest squeeze. And I melt.
Not outwardly—please, I’ve still got my pride—but inside? I’m actual goo. So we sit there, not saying much. Just existing. Me, Sebastian, Teddy, and a whole goddamn tulip field that looks like it was dropped from a dream. And that’s when it hits me. Why I’ve been humming. Why I’ve been whistling. Why Nash and Toby thought I was sick this morning.
Because I’m happy.
Not the fleeting kind that fades when shit gets hard—but the deep, anchored kind. The kind that settles in your bones. That hums behind your ribs like sunlight. That sneaks up on you when you’re not looking and refuses to leave. Maybe the sneaking around has helped. The mind-blowing sex?Obviouslycontributing. But it’s more than that.
It’shim.
And so, sitting in a tulip field, with the man who is slowly breaking down his walls, and the boy who’s stolen more of my heart than I ever planned to give… Yeah, I’m happy.
“Did you know the sound of E.T. walking was made by someone squishing their hands in jelly?” I say it without looking up. Just toss it into the room like a grenade and wait for the reaction.
Behind me, there’s a pause before Sebastian’s deep voice responds. “What?”
Teddy snorts, and I grin before glancing over at Sebastian, who is sitting at Teddy’s neon-blue plastic play table, looking absolutely ridiculous and unfairly hot. His broad shoulders are hunched, knees splayed wide, making the poor chair groan under all that man.
One of Teddy’s glue sticks is in his hand, and there’s a half-assembled paper plate turtle in front of him, googly eyes sliding to one side. Honestly, it’s obscene how much I want him.
“It’s true,” I say with a shrug, turning back to the paper waves I’m curling around a pencil. “They used jelly. For the footstep sounds.”
He says nothing, but I feel the weight of that look. Thewhy-the-fuck-do-you-know-thatkind of stare.
I shrug again. “I read it somewhere.”
“You just… casually research this stuff?”
“Not really.”
He narrows his eyes at me, that sharp, quiet stare he’s mastered. It’s infuriating. And unfairly effective. I flick the pencil off the table. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
The genuine curiosity in his voice throws me. He’s not teasing. Hewantsto know. Not in a humouring way either. Like he’s actually waiting.
It’s enough to stall me for a second. “Okay, fine. Some pads, the overnight ones, sometimes have weird facts printed on the back of the wrapper. I read it there once, and it stuck.”
He stills. Slowly, like it’s dawning on him. A smirk twitches at the edge of his mouth. “So, you’re telling me the mystery of this knowledge… is feminine hygiene packaging?”
“Yes, I know. Shocking.”
Sebastian starts shaking his head. Not at me. Just at the absurdity of the moment. Like,thisis what his life has become. Crafts and jelly facts and period trivia with me.
“You’re supposed to be making the water,” Teddy’s voice pipes up, not even looking up from the mutant-looking koala he’s drawing. It has six fingers and no ears.
“Iammaking it,” I sing, twirling the paper. “Look, ocean waves. Ta-da!”
Sebastian snorts. A real one. Deep and unfiltered.
“You’re a menace,” he mutters, eyes on the paper turtle, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. God, his voice. It’s that slow, lazy tone that comes after coffee. After orgasms. After we’ve fallen asleep, tangled in each other, without a single word about what it all means. And even in this room, surrounded by paper, glue, and half-eaten apple slices, somehow, it still makes my stomach flip. Because this is our version of flirting now. And I’m so fucking here for it.
Later, we eventually take a break from the craft apocalypse to start dinner. Teddy is officially over it, back to playing with hisblocks. I chuck my hair into a messy bun and pull the salad bowl toward me. Grabbing what’s left of the cucumber slices, I toss them into the bowl just as Teddy pops up beside me, snatching a slice straight out of it.
