Page 315 of The Christmas Wife

"I volunteer at the school, at least once in two weeks. A small local charity runs these sports sessions where they train us volunteers to play games with special needs children."

"Because of Olly?"

She nods. "He had ASD, Autism Spectrum Disorder, and he was the most beautiful little boy I’ve ever known. I was only sixteen when he was born, and he became my entire life.

“My parents were busy with the shop; Cade was already a budding cricketer with the junior English cricket team and traveling to matches. I spent every spare minute I had with Olly. I was responsible for him. That day" —she blinks rapidly— "that day, I took him to the park to play. But I had just gotten my first phone and couldn’t stop messing with it. I took my gaze offof him for a few seconds, and when I looked up, he was gone. I searched for him all over the park, and as I reached the exit, I heard the screech of brakes. I knew it right away. I knew what I would find before I even reached the road. He died in a car accident. He’d dashed out into the path of an oncoming vehicle." She firms her lips. "He never had a chance." She pulls her hand from mine. “But you had me investigated, so you probably already know all of this.”

I hesitate. “I knew you had a youngest sibling who died in an accident.” A tear rolls down her cheek.

My heart feels like it’s going to splinter apart. “Zara, baby, please.” I wrap my arm about her, and to my relief, she lets me pull her close.

"It was my fault," she says in a low voice.

"It was an accident."

"I should have been more vigilant." Her chin quivers.

"You were barely an adult yourself."

She opens her eyes and looks up at me. "I was nineteen." She sets her jaw. "I knew my responsibilities and I failed him."

"You’ve been punishing yourself ever since." I lean in, bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her fingertips. "That’s why you work so hard. That’s why you’re so focused on your career."

"You’ve spent a lot of time analyzing me, haven’t you?" She scowls.

"Obsessed with you, remember?"

Her lips kick up. "And I’m obsessed with you, too."

"I know."

"Damn, but that swollen ego—" she murmurs.

"Is not the only thing that’s swollen at the moment."

She scoffs. "Keep it in your pants, buster, especially since we’re going out there to face the paps, who’ve already begun to hover outside the door."

I fold her fingers in mine. "Found us, did they?"

"Took them longer than expected. They must be losing their touch."

"Or you’re too smart for them."

"You smooth-talker, you."

"Comes with the territory, baby."

I lean in; so does she. I hold her gaze as I lower my lips to hers. I kiss her softly, slowly, gently, and a sigh wafts from her lips. I begin to tilt my head and deepen the kiss, then stop myself.

"You sure you want to do this now?"

She holds my gaze for a second more, then nods.

"Okay."

"Okay."

I rise to my feet, and she follows me, hand-in-hand, as we head out of the café. We step outside, and the questions hit us.

---