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A slight hesitation that filled her with the most awful hope, because she knew it was without cause. “Nothing more.” His jaw clenched, a muscle throbbed at its base. “Stay because you want to be with me. But do not expect me to love you, cara. I’m just not built that way.”
She regretted it as soon as she’d left. Not leaving. She’d known she’d have to do that. But telling him she loved him. Marring their last morning together with a stupid argument. She regretted putting him in a position where he had to be honest with her about his feelings – or lack of them. Because it had tainted what they’d shared, so she no longer felt able to enjoy the memories. It was ruined. She’d ruined it, and now the pleasure that had erased so much pain brought its own hurts.
Autumn made it easier to grieve. In the long sunlit days of summer, she’d felt like a fraud carrying such a heavy heart. But with autumn and the cool change, the dark evenings, and finally, winter’s approach, she relished in her heart’s complementary mood. No matter the seasons though, the nights were unbearable. Nights were for dreams and her dreams had turned to nightmares.
She saw Nico in her mind and yet she could never reach him. He was there one minute, smiling at her, but when she held out a hand he disappeared. Sometimes, she dreamed he was the
re, kissing her awake and her eyes burst open with a start, hoping that he was there, that the lines between reality and fantasy would stay blurred. But it was always an illusion. False hope.
Pain became a part of her. So much pain she wondered how she’d ever felt anything before leaving Nico? What she’d endured with Michael – it was nothing compared to this. There was a piece of her missing, a huge piece of her, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever cease to feel that way. Could hurts that went this deep ever really heal?
“You’re looking pale, love.”
She blinked, drawing her attention from the soft falling snow beyond her father’s living room window to focus on Graeme Gray’s face. “What’s that, dad?”
“You’re looking pale. Are you feeling well?”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat and forced what she thought might pass for a smile. “I’m fine.” Her eyes didn’t meet his. The lie was so obvious to her, but he shrugged and smiled, and the warmest rush of affection flooded her heart. Maybe this was the answer? Perhaps love – different kinds of love, but still love – needed to be felt to erase the pain?
Dressed in his old gown with slippers and a folded up newspaper under his arm, he looked so familiar, so dear, that her smile became more genuine.
“What do you say, dad? Shall I pour us a cider and we’ll watch Mr Bean?”
His eyes lit up. “That’s our Christmas eve tradition, isn’t it?”
“For this episode of the Montebellos at Christmas, the part of Gabe will be played by Nico.”
Nico scowled as he turned towards his cousin Luca, his perennially ‘devil may care’ disposition irritating in a way it never had been before. “What?”
“What gives, man? We’ve already got one brooding grump in the family. We don’t need another.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You think it’s not obvious?”
“What?”
“You haven’t come to dinner for months. You’re avoiding your family, and you’re only here now because Yaya called and told you how much it meant to her, but you’ve barely said two words to anyone. So what the hell is it?”
“Nothing,” he snapped. Since when did he snap? He wasn’t sure, but he did it a lot these days. Just a week ago he’d had to apologise to his CFO because he’d given him an earful over a pretty minor mistake.
“Dude. It’s me, Luca. The guy you spent three months hiking across the deserts of India with. You think I can’t read you like a Goddamned book?”
Nico drew on his beer, his eyes chasing the view. He loved this outlook. Villa Fortune was one of his favourite places on earth, and Christmas with his family was usually a highlight of his year. So why couldn’t he get his head into it?
Except, he knew why. The answer had been banging him over the head since he’d left Italy. Every single morning he woke up with her name on his lips, her taste in his mouth, her absence right in the middle of his chest like a mallet.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
He felt Luca’s roll of his eyes. “I’m not buying it.”
“You know what? I don’t give a shit, man. Just…let it go.”
He wanted to storm off, to get away from Luca, from everyone. Most of all, he wanted to get away from himself and his own damned thoughts and memories. But he turned to Luca, put a hand on his shoulder and grimaced. “Just leave it, okay?”
Only a few moments later, he crossed behind the pool and bumped into his cousin Max – the oldest of the six of them. Despite the cool of the evening, he’d been for a swim, as was his tradition. Of the six of them, Max was the most driven by routine. He had that kind of unswerving devotion to his life that meant he was up at five every day, running eight miles no matter where he was in the world, no matter the weather. A nightly swim was another habit of his.
