“I loved you too,” he said, reaching towards her, cupping her face in his hands. “I loved you too.”
She looked at him with wet, wide eyes.
“I loved you so much, and I still love you,” he uttered fervently. “I’ll never not love you, Ari.”
“I love you too,” she replied, and she brought her hands up to his, stroking his long fingers. “I’ll never not love you, Tom.”
He couldn’t help himself. He leaned towards her, pressing his lips to hers. Her kiss tasted like the salt of her tears — or maybe it was the salt of his tears, Tom couldn’t be sure. All the same, it was sweet and loving and tender, and his heart broke a little again when he realised it was a kiss of farewell. The last kissTom Miller would ever give Ari, and the last kiss Tom Somerset would ever give her too.
When they pulled apart, Ari sighed, dropping her hands back into her lap. She chewed on her lip for a moment, looking at him.
“You can be Tom Somerset now,” she told him softly. “You can stop pretending.”
“I meant it,” he said. “I meant every word. I’ll always love you. That was never pretend. That was real.”
Ari shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. We need to think about Reine. It isn’t about us anymore. It’s about her.”
She stood, dusting her hands on her coat and looking down at him.
“I’m glad you kept it,” she said, nodding to her painting. “When I first got here, and I thought you’d sold it...” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I’ll give it to Reine, if you like.”
“One day you can,” Ari said. She swallowed hard. “I... I want you to get to know her. You should know her. I won’t... I won’t stop you from seeing her, in case you were worried. We can work something out.”
“Yes.” Tom nodded, his throat constricted with pain. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for being a good mother. Don’t thank me for putting my child first.” Her tone was unnaturally sharp, and Tom realised the brief moment of openness she’d shared with him was closing up. Her shell to him was hardening, closing him out of her heart forever.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” Ari announced. “I’m too tired to think about you now. Go back to your fiancée, Tom.”
“Sasha and I—”
“I don’t want to know,” Ari cut him off bluntly. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Before Reine and I fly home. She starts schoolagain in a few days... and I need space from you. We’ll work something out before I go.”
“Ari—” Tom tried again, but she turned and walked away. Tom watched as she disappeared down the gallery, her head bowed, her shoulders slumped.
He slept right there on the gallery floor, exhaustion winning over the tumultuous turning of his mind.
When he woke in the early morning, he padded upstairs to his room, opening the door to find Sasha surprisingly still there, fast asleep in their bed. His foot stood on something soft as he quietly entered the room, and he looked down, surprised.
A glossy piece of paper was under his shoe. Tom bent down to retrieve it, examining it carefully in his hand.
His heart constricted in his chest when he realised it was a photograph of a baby.
This baby could only have been a few hours old when this picture was taken. Their hair was dark, while their skin still had that pinky-red tone of a newly born infant. The child was wrapped in a pink blanket, a pink hat on her head, and she was fast asleep, with dark lashes against her cheeks.
This washisbaby, Tom realised, and for a moment he clutched the image to his chest.
Ari had given him a photo. She had given him a baby photo of Reine.
Head bowed and heart low, Tom quietly started to cry.
Chapter 18: Anger
Ari was no stranger to anger. Not at all. Over her lifetime, she’d experienced many things that she had every right to feel angry about. Her emotionally devoid parents for one, who’d kicked Sebastian out for being gay, and her out for supporting him. Then there was the British welfare system, which struggled to house and support her once her parents had sent her packing. There was also her mortgage company, who continually questioned her ability to finance her own home without a husband, and also her daughter’s headmistress, the terrifying Miss Bates, who continually questioned Reine’s well-being.
“You must understand our concern,” Miss Bates had intoned, looking down on Ari loftily. “Given your... shall we say, odd family circumstances?”
