Page 27 of The Mistletoe Wish

No one was more cut to the core than him as his eyes drilled into Sara’s, desperate to slice through her barriers and unmask the truth. Because despite his disillusionment, he suspected there was more that she wasn’t telling. But it seemed she didn’t trust him enough to divulge the truth or her motives. If there was no trust then there was nothing. He couldn’t and wouldn’t take a chance on a woman he couldn’t trust. Heart and hopes crushed, he turned his back. “Celeste, Skye, get in the car.”

“Oh goody. Goodbye Sara. It was … interesting.” Celeste smirked and climbed into the Land Rover so fast she probably thought he would change his mind.

Thinking that he probably had lost his mind, Darim ushered his daughter onto the back seat.

“What about Sara, Dad? We can’t leave her here,” she whispered. Her eyes were wide, cheeks wet with tears, and she was trembling.

He enfolded her hands in his and managed a smile. “It’ll be okay, I promise, but its best that she doesn’t come home tonight.”

“But what about tomorrow? And the next day? And why did Mum have to come here anyway? Why isn’t she in France?”

“Good questions which I can’t answer yet. Buckle up.” He swung back only to find the space where Sara had been standing was empty.

He craned his head in all directions.

But Sara was gone.

When Darim wokethe next morning from a fitful sleep the hollowness in his chest reminded him how his future hopes and dreams had disintegrated into ash. He dragged himself from the caravan and after dressing in fresh clothes, found himself outside, feet rooted to the ground and staring at the house. Sara should be inside. She should be sleeping or busy at the stove getting their breakfast. Instead, he knew when he stepped over that threshold he would find his ex-wife in her place.

Given how broken he’d felt last night, he had been unable to stomach any more explanations or another tirade from Celeste. He’d seen her and Skye safely inside and stumbled off to a lonely bunk where he’d tossed and turned; and mourned.

The thought of food made his gut cramp, nevertheless his little girl needed to eat so he crossed to the house where he knocked on the door. First time for everything.

After hearing his ex’s snappy response, he entered and without looking towards where the sleeping area he made for the kitchenette. Something easy. Celeste wouldn’t eat. She never ate. How she survived had always been a mystery to him. He heated milk and poured it over a couple of Weet-Bix just as Skye walked over.

“Good morning, hon.”

“Huh.”

He shot her a glance.

Skye’s pout reminded him of her mother which made him shudder inside. But his daughter’s swollen, red eyes told him she was deeply unhappy.

“I’m sorry everything turned out the way it did,” he admitted wondering whether he dared give her a hug and kiss.

She took the bowl off him. “I am, too. I like her, Dad.”

“Yeah. Same,” was the best he could manage to say.

They both looked around as Celeste wandered into view.

“Is that breakfast?” She gave a mock shudder. “I’ll have an Evian water with a slice of lemon and another of lime.”

Darim rolled his eyes. “Not gonna happen. It’s water or black coffee.”

“This is worse than I expected.” She sniffed. “And this place. It’s hardly what I’d call a house.”

“Why are you here?” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “Leave off Sara for the moment. What happened with Paris?”

Celeste picked at a loose piece of thread hanging from the negligee she wore. There had been a time, many many years ago when the thought and the sight of her in nightwear would have sent his testosterone raging. These days, he only felt irritation.

“I decided that I wanted to spend Christmas with my baby.”

This time it was Skye who rolled her eyes. She grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and stomped out the door with her breakfast.

“What did I say?”

“How about the truth.”

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