‘No, he doesn’t.’ Phoebe insists, swinging Ava’s hand back and forth like a skipping rope. ‘My friend Cecilia’s mammy asked Daddy over for a playdate and he said no.’
How the hell did the little mite hear that from where she was doing her ballet steps on the bar?
Ava stifles a snort with her free hand, her eyes landing on mine. There are no secrets when there are kids around. I shrug and bite back a smirk.
I return with two mulled wines, and one hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, sprinkles, and cream, just as Phoebe tells Ava she’s playing Mary in the nativity play.
‘You can come if you want.’ Phoebe accepts the hot chocolate and runs her tongue over the cream sloshing over the edges of the cup. ‘Mam said she’ll come.’ Her eyes mist over like she’s seeing something that isn't here. ‘But she’ll probably be gone again by then.’
My heart shatters into a million pieces.
Ava’s stunning features soften into a sad smile. She strokes a strand of blonde hair that’s escaped from beneath Phoebe’s hat. ‘I’m sure you’ll be the best Mary that ever was.’
Good deflection. But I have a better one. ‘Let’s take these drinks to the Ferris wheel and get in the queue. Ava, are you coming? Or are you scared of heights?’
‘Huh! I’m not scared of anything.’ She thrusts her chin up.
Well, that makes one of us. Because I’m terrified right now. Terrified about how natural she is with my daughter. And even more terrified by how much I like spending time with both of them together.
I barely know the woman, and she’s gotten under my skin.
The queue moves quickly and before I know it, the three of us are huddled into a cage like compartment, being hoisted up into the starry sky overlooking some of Dublin’s most stunning sights. The river creates a shimmering ribbon as it winds its way enchantingly through the city below. Dublin Castle, Christ Church Cathedral, and the imposing façade of Trinity College are all visible in the distance. The cityscape is a brilliant fusion of warm golds, vibrant reds and cool blues as streetlights, cars and Christmas lights all contribute to the luminous display.
None of it is as stunning or luminous as the sight of Ava’s arm draped over Phoebe’s shoulders, pointing out the landmarks with awe.
Everything looks the same as it did last year. But nothing is the same. Because I’ll never be able to unsee this night. Unsee how different mine and Phoebe’s lives could potentially be if I wasn't the way I am.
If I could open myself up to the possibility of trusting another person enough to let them into our lives.
Trust them not to leave.
Trust that maybe some things can last.
After meeting Frank and Penny Jackson at the weekend, and seeing them again at the party last night, I have to reluctantly accept that it seems some relationships might last forever.
Which leads me to realise that the problem might lie with me.
ChapterTwenty-One
AVA
Phoebe has barely let go of my hand from the second I met her. She latched on to me like an orphan. If Cillian has a problem with it, he’s not showing it. Though he doesn’t exactly look ecstatic with this evening’s turn of events either.
Then again, when does he ever look ecstatic about anything? He has the male equivalent of ‘resting bitch face’, which I suppose makes it ‘resting bastard face’.
The more I see of him though, he’s anything but a bastard.
He’s a fucking teddy bear.
Especially when it comes to his daughter. He hides behind that stern exterior. It’s a defence mechanism, of that, I’m certain.
The Ferris wheel slows to a stop and a burly guy in a bomber jacket opens the door for us. Cillian gets out first. When his feet are firmly on the ground, he reaches inside the compartment and grabs my waist, helping me out. Even through my thick woollen coat the sensation is electric. Those liquid metal eyes bore into mine with a heat that sears my soul.
Does he feel it?
How natural this evening has been?
Stop it, Ava. Don’t make this into something it isn't. His exact words when he agreed to this were clear.
