“Look, he knows the truth. He’s able to help me out when I start to go off-script. This is good for both of us.”
“Good for . . .” Carl breathed out deeply, and spoke with more calm. “I hope they don’t reckon you’re pulling a prank.”
“They don’t so far.” Right? They didn’t. All the parents had been genuinely eager to see him and wholly supportive.
Or were they acting?
He pushed those worries aside. “How’re things for you in Wellington? Anything I need to know about? Post?”
Carl got unusually quiet.
“Carl?”
“Oh, look at the time. I’ve gotta go. Later.”
Jason frowned at his phone and jumped at a knock on the door. “Anyone in there?”
Owen’s mum.
Quickly, Jason freed the space and followed directions to get the kettle on in the kitchen.
The china cabinet baited him in a shaft of morning light. But attempting to sneak a peek at those photos had gotten him in a lot of trouble last night, and he didn’t fancy things getting more out of control this morning . . .
Steam billowed out of a screaming kettle.
What if he opened the drawer an inch? If he got a glimpse, hooray, if not, it wasn’t meant to be?
He stole toward the cabinet.
“Morning, Carl.”
Jason swung around, guilt a living thing climbing up his neck. Nathan, dressed, cap on, Mary at his side.
“I was just making tea?”
Mary whined, which was rather lenient.
Laughter. “I like you, boy. You’re a nice energy. A little mischievous, which I can get behind. Tea bags are in that cupboard, though.”
Jason turned around, found the Earl Grey, and made tea. They took their mugs out to the sunroom and settled into wicker chairs. In a corner, a cello and a violin rested in their cases, next to creased sheet music on a well-used stand. “Who plays?”
“Me and my daughter. A shared hobby, though lately . . .”
A third figure came into the room, fresh-faced, dark hair streaming around her shoulders. Jason jerked stiffly upright. When would he stop acting so awkward around his birth mother?
He forced himself to relax into his chair and gave her a chin nod. “Cora.”
She looked at him funny as she joined them.
Too far in the other direction! Owen! He could do with a little guidance right now. A manly throat-clearing. A distraction.
“I helped myself to some tea, hope you don’t mind.” Cora eyed the instruments and sipped. “I love classical music.” She inclined her head toward Jason. “Tried to get Carl here into the piano. Even bought him a wee beast. But he never took to it.”
She’d bought the piano? She’d tried to get Carl . . .
Coincidence? Or had she maybe . . . watched Jason’s life quietly and thought if Carl could play, maybe they’d be united in some way?
Jason stared at his tea, quietly laughing at himself. That was a bit far-fetched, mate.
“Owen never practiced either, but he is our number one fan. Comes to all our recitals.”
Jason looked over at the wide smile under the tartan cap’s shadow. “He does?”
“The thing about my son is he’s loyal to the bone, and it doesn’t take him long to fall in love with things, whether that’s music, or an abandoned puppy he found on the beach.” He patted Mary’s head. “And since Hannah’s divorce, he’s taken on more responsibility for his nephew. He cares deeply, always has. It’s why . . .” He trailed off.
Jason perched onto the edge of his chair. “Why, what?”
An adjustment of his cap. “Why it was so hard on him when Hayden left. He would’ve given that man forever.”
“He didn’t deserve it!”
Why he was standing up to announce this, sloshing tea over Owen’s T-shirt, Jason couldn’t quite say. He’d felt the pain Hayden must have put Owen through and it had gripped him violently. Perhaps there were echoes of the story that reminded him of when Caroline had left, but worse, because Owen had believed he was in love. Jason had futilely hoped he was.
Cora’s head cocked inquisitively. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Stiffly, Jason set his tea on a side table.
Nathan was eyeing him strangely.
Even Mary was cocking her head. Fantastic.
He had to repair this, and fast. “That’s because . . . because . . .”
Renee and Patricia squeezed into the sunroom, heads together, laughing. Behind them, dressed in last night’s jeans and T-shirt, Owen tipped himself against the doorframe. His gaze swept over their families and landed firmly on Jason.
“Because,” Jason said, slinking across the room between the ‘mums’ and stopping in front of Owen. “I’ve never felt like this.”
Dark eyes met his. There were a few dozen questions in those eyes, probably along the lines of What out-of-control shenanigan have we got ourselves into this time? Questions tempered by the hint of amusement crinkling his eyes.
God, that arched brow. From the moment he’d first seen it, Jason had responded. A sort of rippling shiver in his stomach. A rippling shiver that had only expanded every time he’d seen it since.