‘It’s nothing.’ She caught her bottom lip in her teeth and looked to the window.
‘Nothing again, hey?’ He had to drag his eyes from her mouth, from the plump flesh caught in her teeth, taunting him with the urge to run his thumb over it, release it...kiss it. He cleared his suddenly tight throat. ‘Well, if that’s your “nothing” face, I’d love to see what you look like when you are thinking something.’
She gave him a guilty smile, snuffing out the desire with rising curiosity. Just what was she thinking?
‘It doesn’t feel my place to say.’
He tensed. ‘Now I really am curious.’
‘Well...it can’t be easy on her, travelling all the time.’
‘She’s seeing the world. There aren’t many five-year-olds that can claim to have visited as many incredible cities as she has.’
‘But what does she do for schooling?’
The tension ratcheted up. ‘She’s taught by Ms Archer.’
Her brow lifted. ‘She’s home-schooled?’
‘You say that like it’s a bad thing, but what other option is there when we travel so much?’
‘It’s...well, it’s just...when does she get to see other children, have play dates, that sort of thing?’
He frowned at her, the tension making him snap. ‘My daughter wants for nothing. She’s kept safe, she’s well educated, and I’d like to think well-rounded too.’
She shook her head softly. ‘But it must be lonely for her? Especially if you don’t have a base, a place to call home.’
Surely home was where he was. It was why he took her everywhere with him. He wouldn’t be the poor excuse for a father that he’d once been, always absent, always late.
‘It’s a well-known fact that children are quite resilient to change.’ He knew he sounded petulant, defensive, but she’d got his hackles up.
She studied him silently and he wondered whether she would argue more, dreading what she would say next, but instead she nodded.
‘I’m sure you’re right. What do I know after all?’ She shrugged. ‘I’m not a parent and she is lovely, really truly...’
She looked back to the window, but her words hung over him. No one had ever questioned his parenting before, not since Elena and her desperate plea for him to be around more. And now he was never far away from Lily—they had weekends and bedtimes.
He could sense Sophia’s thoughts still whirring away and the need to defend himself, to explain, had him opening his mouth to speak but she got there first. ‘So what have you got against London?’
It was the last thing he’d expected and he was ill-prepared for it, the direct hit winding him as his chest squeezed tight, the fateful night replaying in his head in freefall. The blood left his face and he saw her own eyes widen, her hand reaching out to softly touch his arm, sending an aftershock rippling through him, a confusing mix of heat teasing at the chill.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’
He was slow to respond. Slow to quash the swirl of emotion inside, slow to adjust to the warmth spreading beneath her touch. He never spoke of it. London. The past. Elena.
‘I read about your...your wife.’ Her eyes wavered over his face, projecting and evoking so much emotion that he couldn’t break free of it to speak. Thinking about Elena was one thing. Talking to Sophia of her was another.
‘I don’t talk about it.’ His voice was tight, dead, and he watched her nod, the sheen returning to her gaze.
‘I understand.’
And then he saw it reappear in her gaze, heard it in her words. She didn’t simply understand; she felt it. She felt it as only someone who’d been there could. She’d lost someone too. He knew it just as clearly as if she’d told him so herself. And he forgot his own pain in hers.
‘Who was it?’
Her lips parted in surprise, a subtle frown marring her brow. ‘Who?’
‘You’ve lost someone too.’ He covered her hand upon his arm as she shook her head, her pain tugging at a part of him he’d long since thought dead. ‘I can tell, Sophia. You don’t have to talk about it, not if you don’t want to, but...’