Chase applauded with appropriate enthusiasm. “Very strong first act. Great movement, lots of intensity. If you really want to impress the grown-ups, add a few ‘blub blubs.’ And remember the extra emphasis on sand-pooping.”
Finn grinned, dashing to hug me. “I’ve got more lines, but I’m still learning those.” He turned to Chase, eyes wide and sparkling with a kind of childlike urgency I’d never seen directed at anyone but me or one of his overindulgent aunt and uncles. “Chase! You have to see the real play! It’s next month! Will you come? Please?”
The question hit him, surprise registering before anything else. The glass of wine remained on the table, forgotten. The entire house seemed to pause. He looked at me, a moment of searching, then slowly back at Finn. The smile on his face was the kind I’d waited a lifetime to see on someone who didn’t feel obligated to care.
“Wow, buddy,” he said, voice warm and even. “Getting a personal invitation from the star parrotfish? I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You let me know when and where, okay?”
“Okay! Mom, isn’t that great?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “The best, sweetie. You better start practicing your autograph.”
Finn giggled and parrot-finned his way into his room, confident in his new favorite fan.
Chase turned to me. “That was some serious drama. Think he’ll need an agent after this?”
“Probably. I hear Spielberg is recruiting heavily from the ten-and-under crowd.”
He grinned, then checked his phone. “What’s the running time on this thing?”
“About twenty minutes,” I said. “Four and a half hours if you count backstage negotiations over costume details.”
“Perfect. Plenty of time to help him memorize before bed.” He got up, stretching. “I’m guessing that’s my job, since someone else did all the hard work. I suppose it won’t kill me to have an official title.”
“I can think of a few that fit.” As I studied his tall form heading down the hallway, shoulders broad and relaxed, my worries trailed him like a shadow I couldn’t seem to shake. He and Finn were already so close!
I joined them, getting Finn out of his costume without any wardrobe malfunctions and into pajamas.
“And remember, my character is essential to the reef. So I’ll need to really shout out my finale.”
“That sounds very strategic,” Chase said, leaning against the wall as I shepherded Finn into bed.
“You want to call it a night, Mr. Famous Actor?” I tucked Finn in.
“Good night, Mom. Good night, Chase.”
Chase leaned over, eyes slightly cautious but filled with something else that tugged at my heart. A hug request was issued, approved, and returned. I exhaled as we left the room, Harper and Chase again, just the two of us.
I poured wine into two glasses. “He’s going to be crushed if you can’t make it,” I said, voice light but tight, floating somewhere between a tease and a confession.
“I’ll be there.” He raised an eyebrow.
“I know you will. Thank you.” After taking a huge swig of wine, I inhaled a breath. “I told Mom about us today.”
Chase’s shoulders tensed beneath his shirt. He set down his glass and faced me. “And?”
“And… she wasn’t that surprised.” I ran my finger around the rim of my wineglass. “Said it was kind of obvious.”
“Obvious?” His eyebrows shot up. “How?”
“Apparently, we’ve been broadcasting on all frequencies.” I laughed softly.
“That’s kind of… unsettling.” His shoulders relaxed, but his eyes remained watchful. “What else did she say?”
I took another fortifying sip of wine. “She trusts my judgment.”
“Well, it’s a relief to be all official now, I guess.”
“One more thing.” I resisted the urge to take another gulp of wine. “She asked me to invite you to Sunday dinner this week.”
His eyes widened, and then he smirked. “Sunday dinner? With the whole clan? Do I get hazard pay?”
“Not the whole clan. It’s always a mixture, depending on who can make it. Think of it as a test. To see if you can survive mashed potatoes and interrogation.”
He laughed, a warm sound that made me feel like maybe, somehow, this could all work out. “Will I need Kevlar?”
“Probably,” I said, but I couldn’t keep the hope from my voice.
He took my hand and squeezed it gently. “Okay. Sunday dinner, so I’ll be all dressed up. Ready to face the music… or at least the mashed potatoes.”
