Savannah’s entire demeanour transforms like the flicking of a switch. ‘Yes, it is,’ she says at the same time as Ava says, ‘of course not.’
He grins and offers a hand. ‘I’m Ronan Rivers, one of the teachers here.’
Savannah scoffs as I stretch across her and Ava to shake the guy’s hand. ‘You’re not a real teacher. You shouldn't even be in here.’
Ava raises her eyebrows skywards and sits back in her chair politely pretending to be oblivious to the storm brewing beside us.
‘You’re right I’m not a “real” teacher. I’m a former Olympic swimmer who was invited by the board of governors to teach here, because St Jude’s is the most exclusive school in the country.’ He winks in my direction as if to say, watch me wind her up and make her blow.
‘Oh, you’re a former Olympic swimmer, are you? You never mentioned that before.’ Savannah flicks her hair furiously from her shoulder. ‘Much.’
‘Sorry sweetheart, I know you thought you were the only celebrity around here.’
‘Whatever, dickhead. Sit down the show’s about to start,’ she mutters, clenching her jaw.
Ava nuzzles into my ear. ‘I think it already did.’
I’d have to agree. And if I was still in romcom mode, I’d say this would make the start of a very feisty enemies-to-lovers romance. Or the opening credits of a horror movie.
Thankfully, either way, it has nothing to do with me.
The principal takes to the stage. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, mams and dads, welcome to St Jude’s nativity. Give a round of applause for all our little stars today, they’ve worked so hard to put this show together for you all.’
A thunderous round of applause ensues and Phoebe beams and fixes her headdress.
My heart is fuller than I ever thought possible.
My life is complete.
Phoebe remembers every single line and executes them like a pro. She really is the best Mary that ever was, and I’m not biased. Ava agrees, and so does Savannah.
When the curtain falls after the last carol, I’m feeling more festive than I’ve felt in my life. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m sitting next to my future wife. The mother of the rest of my children.
‘Want to go for lunch?’ I lean into Ava’s ear to be heard over two hundred proud parents’ deafening applause.
‘Yes! I’m starving! I couldn't stomach a thing the last two days,’ Ava confesses, latching on to my bicep. ‘Unless you count champagne.’
‘Well, I think we ought to have some of that too.’ I inhale the jasmine scent of her skin, breathing it deep into my soul. ‘I’m sorry for putting you through the mill.’
‘Don’t be. I told you weeks ago, the wobble is worth it if the grand gesture makes up for it. Stopping the traffic of Ballsbridge was pretty impressive.’
‘Why thank you.’ I press a kiss against her temple. ‘Come on, let’s go get Phoebe. School is officially out for Christmas holidays, and I think I know where you’d both like to go.’
An hour later, we’re at La Dolce Vita, tucked around the same window table that Ava and I sat at all those weeks ago when she bulldozed into my office and into my life. Maria Romano is clucking around us like a mother hen. We’re sipping on another complimentary glass of champagne while Phoebe colours with the complimentary crayons one of the waitresses brought over.
Christmas songs echo through the room. The scent of roasted garlic saturates the air. The lights of Grafton Street glitter in the distance. The waitresses bring over our steaming plates of food, placing them on the table in front of us.
‘Cheers.’ Ava raises her glass in a toast, and clinks it against Phoebe’s lemonade, then mine.
I take the opportunity to grab a slice of pizza from her plate. Her mouth falls open in mock horror.
‘What?’ I shrug, shoving it into my mouth before she tries to snatch it back. ‘You said you only share food with real boyfriends.’
‘In that case,’ She picks up her fork and stabs it into the centre of my ravioli, helping herself to a mouthful of my second favourite meal.
‘At least I know where your mouth has been.’ I smirk.
‘Yeah, and I know where yours is going,’ she whispers, nuzzling into me. ‘I mean there are grand gestures, and there are grand gestures …’
