Tom felt inexplicably sad. “Can I... have a baby picture of her? Or any picture. I know I have no rights here, but itwould... it would be nice to see her.” His voice wavered, betraying his uncertainty.
Ari paused. “My Tom wouldn’t say that. That’s Tom Somerset.”
Tom looked down. “Sorry . . . I just . . .” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Ari sighed too.
Tom looked at where their fingers lay entwined. He could remember holding her hand during happier times. Could remember taking her hand as they walked down European streets. Could remember gripping her hand as they lay in the snow of a French mountain, Ari’s face ethereal against the soft white ice around her. Tom looked at her face now, only to find her gazing steadily at him. She held his eyes for a moment, and Tom felt a jolt of bittersweet pain run through him. The gallery was quiet, moonlight stealing in from the windows, and he took a deep breath.
“I’m glad we have a baby,” he said, honesty rolling off him in waves. “You’ve made me so happy, Ari. So happy.”
“Really?” Ari asked, and her voice broke on the word. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and Tom squeezed her hand again.
“Yes. God, yes.”
Ari took a shaky breath. “Thank you for saying that. You don’t know what it means to me.”
Tom winced. “Don’t thank me. Don’t thank me. Please don’t.”
Ari continued to gaze at him. “You wear your hair shorter now.” She reached her free hand up, as if to touch his cheek, before she thought better of it, letting it drop back to the floor. Tom longed for her to touch him, to caress him and tell him everything would be okay, but he knew it was a useless hope.
“When Reine was about six weeks old,” Ari continued, her eyes now down, “all her dark hair fell out and came back in this honey blonde shade. I was devastated. I cried over her. It felt like another part of you being taken away.”
“Corentin has hair like Reine,” Tom explained gently. “And my grandfather had the same.”
“Oh,” Ari breathed. “I didn’t know that. I wouldn’t though, would I?”
“I’m sorry,” Tom said again. “I’m so sorry.”
Ari’s eyes travelled up to Tom’s face, lingering on his eyes. “Why didn’t you come for me?” The tears finally fell down her face. “Why didn’t you find me?”
Tom felt his heart break into small pieces. Useless now to tell her hehadfound her. Useless now to tell her he’d made a terrible mistake. Useless now to tell her anything at all, other than that he was sorry. Sorry for everything he’d done, and sorry for everything he’d missed.
“I don’t know how I can ever make this up to you,” he whispered.
“I don’t want Tom Somerset now,” Ari said, wiping her cheeks with the back of a hand. “Please be Tom Miller. Just for one more minute.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m tired of hearing that word,” Ari said softly. “I’m tired all the time, actually. I work so hard, Tom. I have to put a roof over Reine’s head. Feed her and keep her healthy. I have to worry about her schooling and make sure she gets to all her activities and clubs. I have to pay bills. I have to keep a house clean. I have to exercise, and I have to work, all the damn time. Wedding after wedding after wedding, an endless parade of white satin and salmon en croute. It’s exhausting. I feel like I’m spinning plates in the air, and there’s always one on the precipice of breaking. Luis and Sebastian do what they can... But I’m on my own. Iwish you’d come for me.” Ari wiped her cheek again. “I wish you had.”
Tom took a deep breath, squeezing her fingers.
“I’m here now,” he promised. “I’m here now for you both.”
“But I don’t want Tom Somerset,” Ari replied, crying openly now. “I want my Tom. And it breaks my heart to learn that he doesn’t exist. That he never existed. That it was all a lie.”
“It’s still me,” Tom whispered miserably. “Ari, it was always me.”
“No,” Ari said bluntly. “That’s not true. Because I loved him, and I think I hate you.”
Tom sat back, jolting away from Ari as though she’d struck him. Her words were like salt rubbed into a festering wound, and he felt tears prick at his own eyes.
She would never forgive him, he realised. She never would.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled slowly. There was a ball of pain inside him, sharp and jagged. It ached with every breath he took. It would never go away. That pain, and the knowledge he had only himself to blame, would live with him until his dying day.
But it wasn’t about him anymore. It was about Ari and Reine. So he took from Ari’s words what he could.
