“Sometimes a film. Sometimes extra playtime.”
“And sometimes?”
Rose looked toward the breakfast room.
“Time with you.”
Sebastian felt the room narrow around him.
“That wasn’t her decision.”
“I told her.”
“What did she say?”
“That you were tired of being interrupted.”
He remembered coming home and asking why Teddy was already upstairs.
A bath.
Homework.
Too tired.
He remembered thinking his son was becoming independent.
He remembered feeling relieved that the household no longer seemed to require his attention every minute.
Now those memories rearranged themselves.
“How long?”
“I can’t give you an exact date.”
“An estimate.”
“A few months.”
He stood, then sat again.
Anger would have been easier if all of it belonged to Lavinia.
But Rose had called.
Teddy had asked.
Sebastian had accepted convenient explanations because they allowed him to keep moving.
He could not undo that by discovering outrage at the correct moment.
From the breakfast room, his son called:
“Dad?”
Sebastian went immediately.
Teddy held up a small wrapped parcel.
“I forgot to give you this.”
“It’s your birthday.”
“I know.”
Inside was a key ring made from blue cord and uneven wooden beads.
Teddy watched him.
“For when I got enough.”
Sebastian looked at the gift.
Then at his son.
“You made this so you could spend time with me?”
Teddy shrugged.
“I thought it would help.”
Mara turned her face away.
Sebastian sat down beside him.
“It’s a wonderful gift,” he said. “And you never needed it to get to me.”
They did not question Teddy late into the night.
Mara stayed while he opened the presents he wanted to open.
A book.
A model boat.
A box of pencils.
