Finn peers out the window and sees that London’s bike is still there. “I think so. I saw her this morning, but I’m not sure where she is.”

“Shit,” says Nicki. Finn hears her take a deep breath. “Can you keep an eye on Ross?”

“Uh, keep an eye on Ross?” Finn repeats dumbly.

“You don’t have to do anything, just make sure he doesn’t eat anything weird or fall in the toilet.”

Finn wraps the phone cord around her finger. “Fall in the toilet?”

“Finn!” Nicki shouts. “Stop repeating everything I say! Can you look after him or not? He’s probably just in the basement with his Legos.”

“Okay,” Finn says reluctantly. Look after Ross. Sure. That should be fine. No problem. She hangs up and goes searching for the little eight-year-old walking reminder of betrayal.

Ross is, as Nicki said he would be, playing with Lego. The structure he’s building is a catastrophe of epic proportions: a multicoloured monstrosity of a tower that might fall over at any moment. “Hey,” Finn says. “What are you doing?”

“Building,” he says. He sticks another piece of Lego onto the top of the tower, which is nearly as tall as he is. It doesn’t even seem possible that one person could physically have that much Lego. They must be experiencing Lego shortages in other parts of the world in order to accommodate Ross’s unwieldy design. “What happened to your nose?”

“Uh, I got into a fight,” Finn says.

“Oh.” Ross just stares at her.

“Wow,” she says, crouching down next to him. “How long have you been working on this?”

“I dunno. Since last summer?” He goes over to a pile of Lego and starts sorting through it, searching for the next perfect piece. He must be moving slower than most contractors if this is as far as he’s gotten in a year. But Finn can tell he’s picky. He obviously has a plan, even if it’s a monumentally screwed-up one.

“Want some help?” she asks.

He eyes her warily. “Why are you talking to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You never talk to me. You just talk to my sisters.”

It had never occurred to Finn that he would notice. “Well,” she says. “I’m sorry about that. I just don’t know much about what to say to boys.”

He runs his hands through the pile of Lego. “Mom says it’s because of my dad. She says you don’t like me because of him.”

Really, Nicki? “Well, she’s wrong,” Finn says. “Of course I like you. You’re my nephew.” You should have been my son. The words explode in her head, and for a moment the room starts to spin.

“And you’re my aunt,” Ross says. “I guess I like you, too.”