For a moment, I thought he was going to say something even meaner. His shoulders had squared and his face had become painfully bare, but then a slump commandeered his form and he gave a small nod. "Sorry, Ozzy."

"Mo — mommy said that we could take Milo with us to the seaside if we go on holiday," I told Blake, hoping that the shift in subject would eclipse the discomfort.

"Oh?" Blake sat a little straighter. His hand had slid under the table, fingers joined with my own, and he gave a discreet squeeze. "I think that's a great idea. He'd love the sea. He's like you and loves...