“Ap
art from her boys,” Lauren corrected honestly.
“Right, apart from us.” He lifted his eyes heavenwards but Lauren understood the truth – and the pleasure at knowing how adored he was.
“Gianfelice drilled it into us to never drink and drive. He was very strict and we paid attention. Gabe wasn’t at fault. It was a week before Christmas, the roads were icy and unfortunately, other drivers didn’t have the same forbearance as him. A motorbike came towards the car. Gabe had only a second to react. He shifted the car but caught a drift of ice and spun out. We hit a tree; that was it.”
“What a terrible accident.”
“The one part in which he does blame himself is that she wasn’t meant to be with him. Gabe had surprised her, promising her a huge Christmas tree at his chateau. That’s where we were headed. It was Avery’s first ‘real’ Christmas, she was only a few months old the year before, so he wanted it to be special.”
Lauren’s heart twisted for the sadness of that. “I think that losing someone you love is an impossible grief to live with. Knowing you had any hand in their death, even such an innocent one as wanting to be together, would be very difficult to recover from. I truly am very sorry for Gabe.”
“Yes,” Raf sighed. “We all are. He’s a sulky bastard but we love him and accept that this is his life now. He walks around like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders because he does.”
“What happened to the little girl?”
“She went to live with her dad.”
“So Gabe never sees her?”
Raf frowned. “Not that I know of. But last Christmas he had a few scotches and let slip that he set up a trust fund in her name and pays for her schooling. He’ll never forgive himself for what he took from her.”
“He didn’t take it.”
“I know that and you know that but Gabe sees things as black and white and in this matter his mind cannot be changed.”
She nodded, shivering out of nowhere. Guilt was a terrible thing.
“Being in the accident…” she murmured, her eyes probing his, “Must have been hard for you, too?”
He lifted his shoulders a little, but the look was practiced. It didn’t ring true. “I got off light.”
“In my experience, no one involved in a fatal accident ‘gets off light’.”
“Your experience as a grief counsellor?”
She shifted a little, wondering what it was about Raf that made her want to open up and tell him everything. Perhaps the safety of knowing they’d defined this as ‘casual’, that neither had expectations beyond what they’d just done. It meant that this was a safe space. She could be herself. She didn’t need to push him away because he already understood that she was closed off to the idea of anything more.
“I’m an ICU nurse, by training,” she said. “But after Thom died, I couldn’t – I found the hospital setting, the equipment –,” her voice tapered off as she paused to consider. “You know how smell is supposed to be highly-evocative of memories?”
He nodded.
“For me, it’s sounds. The whirring of the ICP Monitor, the IV Pump, the buzzing of the Pulse Ox. These are the orchestral accompaniment to my nightmares,” she grimaced. “I spent so much time with Thom in ICU towards the end, I found that even when I was ready to go back to work, I couldn’t face nursing.”
There was sympathy in the depths of his eyes. “So you chose to do this instead?”
“It chose me. A nursing friend suggested I might be able to help a couple who were struggling with their son’s terminal diagnosis. It was hard, but I found – the work is – I guess it’s rewarding, to be able to help people at a time when life feels impossible.”
“I bet you’re great at it.”
“Thank you.”
She moved a little, the weight of his body on hers making that difficult. He dropped his head, pressing a light kiss to the tip of her nose. “Are you hungry?”
She blinked in surprise. “What time is it?”
“Six?”