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She stared down at her tracing finger, silent for a moment. ‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘I’ve never thought about it. Probably nothing.’

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, I have everything I need. The home and the kids, and that’s it really. For myself, I don’t need much.’

‘Come on,’ he urged gently. ‘There must be things you’d like.’

‘I mean, maybe more time to read.’ She drew another little circle on his skin. ‘I did like drawing as a kid, and I used to want a paint set. You know, the ones with all the colours in little tins and all the brushes you might need.’ She didn’t look at him, but he could see the wistful smile that turned up her mouth. ‘It’s silly, but that’s something I always wanted.’

‘It’s not silly,’ he said, his mind already adding it to the list of things he was going to get delivered.

‘Childish, though. It’s what a kid wants.’

‘You’re still that kid, though, aren’t you?’ he asked. ‘Even though we grow up, we’re still the same person deep inside.’

She met his gaze. ‘Are we?’

The question was for him, he knew that. ‘You are,’ he amended. ‘I’m not. I don’t even remember the boy I used to be. That boy is dead and gone.’

Libby seemed like she might say something to that, but then her mouth firmed, and the look in her eyes changed, and instead of speaking, she leaned forward and kissed him.

And he forgot about the conversation for the rest of the evening.

Chapter Ten

LIBBY WAS HAVING the strangest dream. She was running through the snow in a forest, looking for Kai, but she couldn’t find him. She could hear his voice through the trees and a woman’s laugh, and she would run towards them, but she could never see them. He was near, she was certain of it. If only she could catch him.

A rhythmic sound filled her dream, like the sound of helicopter blades, and she ran towards it, stumbling through the snow and out into a forest clearing. Just in time to see a helicopter lifting off and a woman standing on the skids, tall and slender, her long white hair streaming in the wind. She waved at Libby and Libby knew it was Neve, and that she was taking Kai away forever, taking him somewhere she could never find him.

A grief so sharp it felt like a blade in her heart gripped her, and she fell to her knees, weeping, only for the tears to freeze on her cheeks, then fall into the snow like tiny diamonds, glittering in the cold and bitter light.

She was on the point of wanting to lie down and never move again, when she woke up with a start. The duvet had come off her completely, so no wonder she was cold, but she could still feel that sharp grief aching in her heart.

Sitting up, she glanced at the sheets beside her, but they were empty. Kai wasn’t there. Her heart squeezed, the ache persisting, but she knew he hadn’t gone anywhere. He was probably downstairs preparing breakfast the way he’d done the day before.

Her throat felt tight from the aftereffects of the dream, and when she raised her hand to wipe at her face, her fingers came away wet. Great, so she’d been crying in her dream and in real life, too. Pity the tears in real life weren’t diamonds because that would actually be useful.

She couldn’t think why she’d been dreaming of running after Kai, especially when she’d been in his arms all night and most of the afternoon and evening the day before, too.

It had been the most wonderful evening, even if the conversation about how she hadn’t been wanted for adoption had hurt. She hadn’t wanted to confess to him that it had scarred her, because she hadn’t wanted that to matter. But he’d seen through her denials, and more than that, he’d cupped her cheek and told her that there was nothing wrong with her, that she was perfect, and for that one shining moment, with the honesty shining in his grey eyes, she’d even believed it.

She’d certainly felt it as he’d laid her down beneath the Christmas tree and touched her, stroked her, and kissed her all over. She’d felt more perfect than she’d ever felt in her entire life. He’d been perfect, too, though not so much when he’d asked her what she’d wanted for Christmas. She’d told him the truth when she’d said that no one had ever asked her that question, because no one had. Literally never. The staff at the home did a secret Santa for each other every year, but mostly the presents were all for the kids. And of course, she didn’t have a family to think about, except for the family she had at Worthington.

So the question had thrown her, and automatically she’d told him that of course she wanted money for Worthington, because that’s what she always wanted. But then he’d asked her what she wanted for herself, and she’d realised, with a sudden jolt, that she didn’t know. She’d never thought about it, not once. Everything revolved around other people, which was how it should be, really. Except there had been a cold little thread of grief inside her at the thought of how Christmas had always been for other people, never for her. A cold little thread of resentment. She’d hated feeling it. It was so selfish, when other people—other children—had had it far worse than she did, so she’d thrust it away hard.

Yet…it still bothered her that she hadn’t known what she wanted. She’d remembered as a kid wanting a paint set, so she’d said that just so she had something to say. Of course, then he’d said that she was still that kid, that everyone was. Everyone except for him.

She’d wanted to tell him then that he was still that kid, too, that Neve had merely put him to sleep, but she didn’t want to bring Neve’s name up in the moment. Not when they were naked and tangled together. So, she’d kissed him instead, which she didn’t regret. He was still so defensive of Neve, and she didn’t want to upset him, not when the moment had felt so warm and intimate.

Now, though, she wondered why he’d asked her what she wanted for Christmas since they were still trapped here and no one was going Christmas present shopping anytime soon.

Sliding out of bed, she picked up the robe again, which she’d basically been living in for the last few days, and went downstairs in search of him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, so she went into the living area and then stopped dead, staring in shock at the Christmas tree.

It was covered in Christmas decorations. Baubles of different jewel colours, and silver and red tinsel. Glittering stars and reindeers, jostling for space amid the paper snowflakes she’d made with him, and lots of multicoloured lights flickering. At the top of the tree was the most glorious Christmas angel, with gossamer jewelled wings and a golden halo, and it had been affixed next to the angel he’d drawn for her.

Beneath the tree were boxes all wrapped up in Christmas paper, with bows. God, so many boxes. The tree would have looked like a Christmas department store display if the placement of the decorations hadn’t been so haphazard, indicating that someone not used to hanging decorations had dressed it.

That someone was standing next to the tree, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, adjusting a small silver cupid hanging from one of the branches, a look of concentration on his beautiful face.