Page 4 of Second Chance Christmas

She glanced at her dad, affection softening her harsh retort, as he pulled the ancient Christmas glasses out of the display case. These were the glasses her mother had always used. Cassidy remembered how special they’d seemed to her, as a child. Not because they were inherently valuable, but because they only made an appearance at this time of year, and that rendered them hugely important.

“Leave it, dad,” she implored softly, looking beyond her father to where Audrey was colouring a Christmas activity book while the Children’s BBC channel played in the background.

“I’m just saying, he’s a good kid.”

Cassidy tightened her grip on the knife she was holding, midway through setting it out.

When Leonardo had confessed to Cassidy that he’d slept with someone else, she’d wanted to scream it to the world. She’d been livid. But even though he’d hurt her in a way she could barely process, the idea of ruining his relationship with her father somehow seemed a bridge too far. Leo wasn’t close to his dad in the same way he was with Harry. Paolo da Costa was a fair bit older, for a start, and he was strict. Unforgiving. Theirs was a relationship of duty, whereas Harry and Leo had always just clicked.

She realized, a while later, that it was out of affection for her father, not Leonardo, that had earned her discretion. Harry saw Leonardo almost as a son; Cassidy just couldn’t bring herself to damage that relationship. Even when it meant sucking up platitudes such as, ‘he’s a good kid’.

“It’s been a long time since Leonardo was a kid, dad,” she muttered.

“Get to my age and anyone under forty will seem youthful,” he said with a soft laugh and a shake of his head. “I’m just saying, it’s Christmas. I’m not asking you to be his best friend, but just…go easy on him. For my sake?”

“I’m not planning to eviscerate him at the table.”

“Paolo told me Leo was devastated when he heard about your wedding, you know.”

Cassidy ground her teeth together. “I’m sure Paolo was wrong.”

“I didn’t say anything at the time, because you and Grant seemed happy,” he said, though his voice hitched a little before making the observation, and his brows came together with a familiar look of confusion. No one had understood why Cassidy had gotten so seriously involved with someone so quickly, nor why she’d married so young. But Grant’s political aspirations had meant they needed to marry once she fell pregnant. And for Cassidy, it was vital proof. Much needed evidence that she had one hundred per cent put Leo far behind her.

“We were happy,” she lied. In truth, she couldn’t think they’d ever been happy. Grant had been ambitious as all hell, and had liked the idea of a ready-made young family to bolster his image and Cassie had been…well, she’d been broken. Hurting in a way that she hoped someone would be able to put back together. Anyone. And she’d chosen Grant, who’d ended up hurting her too, only he inflicted pain of the physical variety.

She swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat, the trauma of the last six years embedded in her. It was part of why she’d come home. Here, she had her dad. She had the hallmarks of her childhood. She had touchstones of a past that had seemed simpler. What better place from which to begin again?

“Leonardo moved on a long time ago,” she murmured. “His life is about as far removed from Partridge Street as it’s possible to get.”

“Cass—,”

She held a hand up in the air, silencing her dad. “I will be civil to him, for your sake,” she said stiffly. “But if there’s one person on earth I’d happily never see again, it’s Leonardo da Costa.”

He wasas at home in her dad’s house as the furniture. He sat to the left of her father, across from Cassidy, almost as if he was part of the family, and something about his placement just made Cassidy’s temper spark. So did the easy way he conversed witheveryone.It was only a small, Christmas dinner party—ten people, including Cassidy and Audrey, and Paolo da Costa, but Leo was the star. Everyone listened to him, hung on his every word, so Cassidy couldn’t always keep the disdain from her face, no matter what she’d promised her father.

After the first course, when Audrey’s eyes were heavy and she was using her hand to prop her cheek up, Cassidy stood. “I’m going to get this little one to bed,” she said, to her dad.

“Need a hand?” He returned, and she gave him a look of affection, because he’d slotted so easily into this role—a stalwart and support, a part of her family.

He’d been a single parent for long enough to know that it wasn’t an easy gig.

“I’ve got it. Thanks though.”

As she stood, Leonardo did likewise and she froze, shooting him a glare.

“Relax, I’m just going to clear the table,” he said with a warning look of his own, that he softened a moment later with a clearly false smile.

“I didn’t know world-famous footballers could do any kind of manual labour.”

“I think there’s probably a lot you don’t know about me. And clearing a table is hardly manual labour.”

“Yeah, well—,”

“Cassidy,” Harry’s voice held a warning. Her eyes flashed to her dad’s, showing guilt, then to Paolo with apology.

“Sorry,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m under strict instructions to be civil.”

A few people at the table laughed and Cassidy realized, belatedly, that the other conversations had stopped, and everyone was instead enjoying the little performance piece she and Leonardo had been delivering.

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