‘No, it’s the name of the statue you were looking at. Prometheus. He’s a Greek god and this one is actually made of bronze, not gold.’
‘Angel, you are coming to skate?’ Michel called, beckoning her.
‘Go on,’ Hayley said, still not making any moves. ‘Go and skate.’
‘Reason twenty-three why Christmas is better in New York: ice skating next to a Greek god,’ Angel said, slowly removing her fingers from the edge of the ice rink.
‘Yup, pretty cool. So, off you go,’ Hayley urged.
Angel stared at her, unmoving. ‘You’re going to wait until my back’s turned and then you’re going to sneak off to the café.’
‘How very dare you! As if I would!’
Her daughter knew her far too well. The skates were already pinching her toes.
‘Come on!’ Michel shouted. ‘We come here to skate!’
Hayley pulled a face. ‘I don’t remember him being this bossy.’
‘Come on, Mum. I’ll hold your hand,’ Angel said, gingerly moving on the ice, her hand held out to Hayley.
‘I’m not sure ice skating is going to be me,’ she said, putting one foot in front of the other but pausing before the ice.
‘I’m not sure green vegetables are really me but you still make me eat them. Come on!’
Angel pulled her forwards and, before she could do anything to stop herself, she was on the ice, her feet slipping and sliding away from her like a newborn fawn.
‘Angel! Don’t you let me go!’
‘Stop pulling on me! You’ll stretch my new coat,’ Angel screamed.
‘I can’t stand still!’
‘It’s ice skating; you’re not supposed to stand still!’
‘This is all wrong. It’s unnatural I tell you!’
With her arms flailing and her legs kicking, Hayley screamed as Michel took her arm and she grabbed him with both hands in desperation.
‘Whose idea was this?’ she exclaimed, her fingers digging into his coat as he held her up.
‘Angel wanted to come,’ Michel reminded her.
‘The child is evil,’ Hayley said, narrowing her eyes at her daughter.
‘Come on,’ Michel said. ‘I will help you.’ He skated backwards, letting her hold onto his arms.
‘Wait for me!’ Angel shouted, trying to follow them without falling.
Oliver had followed them. He’d left Clara and the office behind with the sole intention of… what? What had he really been thinking when he left Drummond Global and headed for Dean Walker’s apartment? He wanted to see Hayley again. Why? To torture himself? To remind him what he’d had for a short time? What he’d let go? What he’d given up on? Or did he really want to do something he’d never done before?
He watched them from the sidelines. To any onlooker, they would appear to be the perfect family. A couple, the man helping his partner, their child trying to keep up with them. Maybe they could be in time. Perhaps that was what fate had in store for Hayley. Was this his final visual message to leave well alone?
He let a breath go, watching it thicken in the air. He could leave, right now, and she’d never know he’d been here. With Michel and the McArthur Foundation fundraiser, she already had so much going on in her life. It wasn’t fair to burden her with something else. What they’d had had been fun, exciting. She didn’t need what he would bring to the table. It was selfish to tell her, wasn’t it? It would be for his benefit. To prove hecouldtell someone? That wasn’t fair.
He watched her, letting go of Michel and trying to move of her own accord. Hair poking out from under a red, woollen hat, some crazy jumper sleeves over her sweater, knees bent inwards. She was smiling. She was happy. He should go.
And then it happened: their eyes connected. Across the ice, skaters circling around the rink between their locked vision. His mouth dried up, along with his resolve. He couldn’t look away.
