Phoebe pouts, and my dad guilt strikes my stomach like a tsunami. ‘I promise I’ll take you next weekend, okay?’
‘Do you think Ava could come too?’ Phoebe’s little face looks so optimistic. She has a full-on girl-crush on Ava, and I can’t blame her.
She’s mentioned her name at least twenty times this evening and she’s been carrying around that claret-coloured lipstick like it’s her most prized possession.
‘No sweetheart. I don’t think Ava can come.’ I hate to be the one to burst her bubble, but I don’t want her to get notions about something that will never be.
Phoebe’s face falls. The urge to distract her is overwhelming.
‘Shall we put up the Christmas tree tonight?’ Every year I let her decorate the house with fairy lights and tinsel whichever way she likes. It usually looks like a bad taste party gone wrong, but if she’s happy, I’m happy.
When she was only two years old, she took a shine to a white Christmas tree in Arnott’s Department Store. Kicked and screamed the place down until I bought it. At six, she still adores it, insisting it can only be decorated with pink baubles, and pink striped candy-cane sticks, but if it makes her happy, then I’m happy.
It’s like flipping a switch. The smile is back, the light in her eyes is blinding. ‘Will you put on the Christmas songs? And can we open the Celebrations?’
‘On one condition.’
She fist-pumps the air and lets out a squeal. ‘Anything.’
‘You have to wash your face and put your pyjamas on first, okay?’ Last year she conked on the couch before we finished. I had to put her to bed in the clothes she’d been wearing all day.
‘You’re the best Dad ever.’ Phoebe flashes me her goofiest grin and blows me a kiss across the table. A warm rush of love inflates my heart.
A loud knock on the front door rapidly deflates it.
It can only be Teagan. No one else would get past the gate.
Phoebe leaps up from her seat at the table. I follow close on her heels.
‘Mam.’ Phoebe squeals. ‘This is perfect timing. We’re just about to put up the tree.’
I force down my irritation at Teagan’s arrival. It makes my daughter happy, so I’ll suck it up for tonight, but these erratic arrivals can’t continue. ‘You could have called to say you were coming.’
‘Why? It’s not like you’d be anywhere else at this hour of the evening.’ Teagan’s pushes her way into the hallway, a ridiculously bright smile plastered across her face. Yet another stylish party dress peeps out from her open coat. This one’s cut indecently low on the front. Either she’s on her way to a hot date, or she still hasn’t got the memo that we are over.
‘Last night, we were.’ Phoebe pipes up, pulling Ava’s claret-coloured lipstick from her pocket and thrusting under Teagan’s nose.
Teagan’s smile dies on her face. Accusatory eyes fixate on mine. ‘Where did she get that?’
‘We met a friend of Daddy’s at the Christmas market. She was so lovely. And so pretty. You’d really like her, Mam.’ Phoebe coos at the memory.
This is precisely why I would never have dreamed of introducing Ava to my daughter if it hadn’t have happened organically. Not because the hurt on Teagan’s face is too much to bear, but because the optimism on Phoebe’s is.
‘Is that right?’ Teagan tuns back to Phoebe. ‘And are you seeing Daddy’s friend again?’
‘Don’t.’ I whisper to Teagan’s ear. ‘It’s not fair to put her in the middle.’
‘I hope so.’ Phoebe kisses the lipstick like her most precious possession. Teagan’s nostrils flare.
‘Go get changed for bed.’ I smooth my palm over Phoebe’s silky soft hair. ‘I’ll tidy up and get the decorations down from the loft.’
‘Mam, will you come up with me?’ Phoebe tugs Teagan’s hand but Teagan brushes her off.
‘I’ll be up in a minute, sweetie. I just want to have a quick word with daddy.’ Her sickly-sweet tone makes me nauseous.
Phoebe hesitates, glancing between the two of us. ‘It’s okay, Phoebe. Just go get changed, and I’ll put on some Christmas songs.’ I rub her back, gently nudging her towards the stairs.
Teagan’s presence here is becoming problematic. And tonight’s the night I stop pussyfooting around and tell her.
