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He wanted to comfort her, and that realisation tipped him into a point of fury. She deserved no such compassion. She was right, after all. She’d hurt him. And she’d hurt Angus. And she’d obviously wounded herself too.
“So you divorced him, and that was it. No more Angus. No more me. Has there been anyone?”
Her cheeks drained of colour. “That’s definitely not your business.”
“Come on, Ava. Everything about you is and always will be my business. Don’t be so naïve.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll detail my love life if you give me the same courtesy.”
“Excuse me?” He responded coolly.
“How many lovers since me? How many countries? How many women have you made love to beneath the stars, surrounded by vines, on the edge of a lake like this?” She swallowed as the memories threatened to burn her alive. “How many women have fallen in love with you as I did, only to realise that your view of love is temporary and transient, like your love for any new experience.”
His lips twisted in a cynical smile. “You understand me as little now as you did then.”
“You’re wrong,” she raised her chin and glared at him with defiant pride. “I understand you as perfectly as ever. You’re selfish, Cristiano. You always have been. You probably always will be. And though I loved you with all my heart, I have never doubted that I made the right decision.”
It was impossible to tell from his expression how her words affected him, if at all. “Loving you would never have been safe. You would have left me as soon as you bored of me. And you would have bored of me. That’s who you are.” Her voice was shaking; her arms felt numb. “And I would never let that be my life. That waiting. Wondering. Certain that soon it would all be over; waiting for you to cast me aside.”
He stared at her with a balance of pity and hatred. “You mean like your father cast your mother aside?”
She gasped at his callous words. She had revealed more to him than anyone else. She felt the inappropriateness of that confession now. “No,” she was driven to respond angrily. “I mean like you did cast me aside. I mean like you’ve undoubtedly cast dozens of other women aside since then. It’s what you do. And I’m not judging you for it.” She couldn’t help the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Well, not really. It’s who you are. But you and I are like oil and water. A terrible mix.”
“Perhaps,” he murmured, surprising her by hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her to his body. “Yet in some ways we mix damned beautifully, wouldn’t you agree?”
* * *
How could Ava sleep after what they’d shared? It was remarkable that she’d managed to go through the motions of a normal night with Milly, without tipping Marie and Jackson off with her distracted behaviour.
She could smell him on her skin. She could feel his hands on her body, as fully as if he were still touching her. She shuddered to remember his kisses, and the way she’d felt when he’d moved inside of her.
Ava couldn’t tell if it was regret or relief, but she was awash with feelings. She was, in fact, more alive than she’d been in years.
Her hands hovered over the keyboard. She thought of emailing her sisters. But what could she say? Her two closest confidantes – as much friends as sisters, the women she loved dearly, would be furious if they knew she’d jumped into Cristiano’s bed only hours after his return to the Valley.
Sophie and Olivia wouldn’t understand. After all, they had nursed her through the heartache when it had first happened. They had seen their strong, capable sister turned into a veritable mess. And they’d held Milly when Ava had barely been able to make a cup of tea for the soul-destroying grief and depression.
They loved Ava as surely as they hated Cristiano.
She couldn’t tell
them.
Somewhere around four o’clock, she gave up on the idea of sleep. Instead, she pulled her slippers on and moved to the window. Her room was at the back of the house, and overlooked the vineyards. In the day, the view stretched for miles. Rows and rows of rolling vines that acted as a balm to her soul.
Now, they were bathed in milky moonlight and seemed to take on the appearance of gnarled, mystical creatures. Like mysterious monsters had dredged themselves from the swamp and moved in battlelines along the earth.
It was a warm night; she’d slept with the window open and a moth buzzed in now, flickering against the window frame. She watched as it jerked its wings furiously to stay aloft.
Just as she’d done.
Every day had felt like it might drown her. She’d tread water for so long that it had become habit. With a small sigh, she padded out of her room and into Milly’s. Their little girl was in a deep, happy sleep. Her lips were curled in a smile, and her arms were thrown over her head. The sight of her like that almost brought tears to Ava’s eyes.
Even in sleep, she was so like him.
Ava crept closer to the small bed and knelt beside it.
Milly had been a blessing. Though Ava had been a young mother, and had no real experience with children, she knew enough to know that she’d escaped many of the common curses people seemed to find difficult with young children. Milly had slept well almost from birth. She’d fed beautifully, taken to solids like a little champion, and had barely indulged a temper tantrum in her two years of life. Ava put a hand on her chest with the confidence of one who was unafraid of waking the child. Predictably, Milly simply let out a little sigh and continued to slumber.
