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His presence doesn’t stop me, though. I make it to her quickly as the little girl whines, “I want the unicorn, please!”
I'm at the stall now so I pick it up. “Here you go.” I smile and drop down, holding it out to her. She stops and looks longingly at the toy before flicking an unsure look at her mum. Holly’s smile is brittle. Her body has gone stiff, and I feel like a twat; I should have listened to Brant.
Holly nods, and the girl takes it. “What do you say, Beau?”
Beau.It needles into my heart, and I force a swallow down. She had said time and time again that if we had a child, she wanted to call them Beau.
“I like your name,” I say gruffly.
The girl smiles cautiously. “Thank you.” Her eyes go back to her mum. “Please, can I have this unicorn?”
I stand tall and take all of Holly in. She has a floaty summer dress on and a little gloss. For once, she is wearing make-up. It's minimal, but she doesn't need it. Never has.
“Hi, Holly, how are you?” I swallow thickly. “When did you get back to Richmond?” I add right away. The pipsqueak bristles and puts a hand on her arm, but I ignore him. My eyes are on my girl and she is exactly that. Mine. Always was. Always will be. My chest expands with a deep sigh as her face sets into a neutral look.
“I'm good, thanks. We moved back a few days ago.” Her smile is polite but uncomfortable, and her eyes slip to the man beside her but quickly come back to me. I take great pleasure in that. But it’s momentary.We.She means him too. I don't recognise the weasel of a man. I don’t get it. Holly is incredible, and the guy looks like he'd ask her to push the car if it ever broke down. He's a wet fish.
But she’s finally home.
Here. Near me.
I'm soaring and falling, headfirst back into that painful void. Several residents are watching, and my gut starts to cramp with unease.
“That’s great, you look great, and Beau, wow, how old is she?” I mostly hate that Holly has moved on, especially with this schmuck. I hate she has had a kid with him, and I wonder if there are more children. If they are married. I feel nauseous at the thought.
“I'm five!” Beau pipes up, shoving the unicorn at her mum. “Pleeeease, she is the most glittery pink one!” Her tiny teeth are gritted together as she pleads her case, and I laugh lightly. “I have pockey money,” she begs passionately.
“Yes, okay.” Holly laughs. “But you don’t need to use your pocket money,” she replies softly, calmly, like I expected she always would with any children we had. Because that was our plan. Marriage. Kids. My heart squeezes, and I look at the wormy man beside her and smile.
“Hey, sorry. I’m Cameron.” I hold out my hand to be polite and repel the image of me crushing his hand as he lifts it to shake it back.
“Marcus.” I notice he doesn't stake his claim and say he is her husband, nor do I check if there is there any ring. It’d be too obvious. I feel a heavy slap on my shoulder.
“Hey, Hol!”
“Hi, Dan.” She moves slightly, and I see a glimpse of the awkward teen I became so fascinated with.
“You're looking good. How’s things? Who's this?” He drops to Beau, who holds her unicorn up.
“This is my unipony,” she declares proudly.
“She looks like candy floss,” Dan says and sniffs it. “She smells like it too!” His eyes widen, but my eyes are on the woman looking lovingly at her daughter.
Beau grins and sniffs the unicorn. “Mummy smell, she’s candy!” Holly sniffs, and I want to scoop her up and carry her home. But that fatal night comes crashing back, and I remember the bone-crushing hurt on her face. She'd shut down on me and left.
Completely vanished from my life.
This is the first time I've seen her in years, and I know for a fact that it has taken her everything to face me after what she believed happened. I broke this woman’s heart. I know she has put every piece back together, slowly and securely, until she felt strong enough to come home.
But she broke mine too.
Broke it with every ounce of power she had over me and left me, shattered and bruised, to pick up the pieces. Pieces that others continued to kick around, knocking them further away, out of reach until I no longer recognised myself.
She thinks I broke her heart, but she never allowed me to explain the truth.
All that hurt, pain, and despair shift in my mind, but shock alone holds it at bay. Shock and my misplaced love for this woman. I hate her as much as I love her.
She must sense my appraisal as her feet shift, and she clears her throat. “We should probably get going,” she says quickly. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and her posture is stiff. I want to grab her and plead with her to listen, to hear me out and understand what happened that night. To shout at her for abandoning me. She has no idea of the hell that followed or how crushed I was when she left me.
