How quickly had Cristiano changed her mind? Days? Hours? Certainly by the end of that first week, she had known she loved him in a terrifyingly real way.
Terrifying because their mother had taught them from a very young age that love was a dangerous and frightening emotion, best to be tempered by rational thought and considered appraisal. Her love for Angus was just like that! She knew him well, and had done for almost her whole life. She thought the world of him, as did everyone who knew him. He was kind and thoughtful and compassionate, and he loved Ava with dedication and devotion.
Loving Angus was safe.
Loving Cristiano was not.
And yet, she’d loved him most. She’d loved him until the feeling had seemed to burst through her, threatening to squash her vital organs with its intensity and turn her into a frame of what she’d once been.
She’d loved him when there was no hope, only desolation.
And she loved him now, though he felt only anger and resentment towards her.
She let herself in the front door with a downcast face.
“Milly’s still asleep,” Marie said, as she entered. “Good swim?”
“Great,” Ava lied.
“Good. Jackson’s headed out already but said he’ll be back in a few hours with the tree. You just need to pick a spot.”
She nodded. “Great. Good. Thanks.”
Her shower was cool. She wanted it that way. She didn’t want to be dulled and comforted. She wanted to feel. She wanted to reawaken every nerve ending in her body and revel in their presence.
She pressed her back against the tiles and let the water rush over her. And she imagined it was Cristiano’s hands. Strong and capable and innately in tune with her body. She put one of her hands over her wrist and held it, remembering how it had felt when he had done that to her. Weeks earlier, before he’d known about Milly.
He was back in her life, but in the most agonising of ways. He was forever out of her reach.
She stared in the mirror and told herself she would forget him. And she hoped that if she said it often enough, it would come true.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“That’s a perfect place for it, Milly,” Ava cooed, inwardly squashing the mental image she’d cherished of recreating last year’s tree perfection. This was not going to resemble department store elegance so much as craft time at kinder, but that was fine by Ava. For this year at least. “What about this one?” She unhooked another of the timber decorations and placed it carefully in the palm of Milly’s hand.
“Oh! Pretty!” She squealed, staring at the little elf with wonderment. “Hat! Hat like my!”
Ava shook her head with a laugh. “Do you have a hat like that? I don’t know.”
“Yeah! Yeah!”
Ava eyed the tree. “Well, my little Elf, where shall that one go?”
Milly walked on her plump little legs to the tree and scanned the branches. They smelt like pine and forest. Jackson had outdone himself, selecting a fresh tree that wasn’t too large for the lounge room, but was certainly large enough to give it gravity and ceremony.
“Dah!” Milly pointed to one of the furry branches that had already had several ornaments bestowed on its prickly length. It was sagging underneath the weight, and Ava pretended to consider it.
“Perhaps. Though I’m not sure we can fit many more without snapping the branch. Why don’t you give it a try?”
“Never too young to start learning physics, huh?” His voice set her pulse hammering. She tried hard to find a sense of calm, but how could she? Milly had no such impulse. She toddled over quickly, her feet carrying her towards Cristiano with such force that, when she reached him, she hurtled against his legs and promptly crashed back to the floor.
“Ow,” she complained, fixing him with a look that spoke volumes of his treachery.
He laughed gently and scooped her into his arms. “Sorry, angel.” His eyes drifted to Ava, over Milly’s head. “I was distracted.”
Her heart turned over in her chest.
Ava took a steadying breath. “I thought you had to work.”