Before You Say I Do

Chapter 17 Banana Bread

Under normal circumstances, Ari was a meticulous packer. Years of living in government-funded shitholes had seen to that. You never knew when you might have to leave, never knew what you might need to take or have. Her suitcases had become an art-form of organised preparation, with sections for clothes, make-up, toiletries and what Sebastian sneeringly called her ‘end of the world prep’. It was a zipped and waterproof red bag that contained painkillers, antihistamines, disinfectant and antiseptics, as well as bandages and extra travel bottles of soap, shampoo and washing-up liquid, and Ari never went anywhere without it.

“Honestly, it’s a wedding,” he would say whenever he saw the red pack being tucked carefully into Ari’s suitcase. “Valium and pep pills. That’s all you need.”

Ari remained firm, however. Her teenage years living alone had served her well. You never knew when you might need to disinfect a new room, play parent to yourself and treat an injury, or wash your socks in a sink. She found comfort in being prepared for all circumstances — it felt easier when she had basic necessities with her at all times.

She thought Luis understood. He never rolled his eyes at her emergency supplies or laughed at her water purification tablets. Instead, he would pat her on the back and shake his head in amazement at her packing skills.

“You can never find Reine’s violin when she needs it, still don’t know what day your recycling men come and have kitchen cupboards so messy they make me want to cry, and yet your suitcases are always works of art,” he told her. “You’re an enigma sometimes, Ari. You really are.”

Tonight, there was nothing enigmatic about Ari’s packing. She walked hurriedly from room to room, throwing things into the open cases on her bed and frantically searching out items in the cupboards and drawers.

She needed to get out of this place, out of this family and out of this damned wedding. She would have Sebastian refund Marnie’s cheque and tear up their contract — actually, no, Ari thought, stopping to take a deep breath. She would do that herself. There would be a malicious satisfaction in ripping Tom and Sasha’s names into oblivion — a painful kind of release in throwing the business of their wedding back in their privileged and self-satisfied faces. She would go back to London and pretend this whole farce had never happened. She would move on. She would thrive. She would forget.

She had to forget.

“Have you got Margaret Thutcher?” she asked Reine absently, still flinging clothes into her case. “Thank God I didn’t unpack your bag. Go and get it, Reine. Quick as you can.”

“No.”

“Make sure you get your toothbrush from the bathroom, and your book from the bedside table too.”

“No.”

“And when you’ve done that, I’ll get you dressed in some clothes... we’ll drive to the airport. Get the first flight out we can and—” Ari stopped, turning to Reine slowly. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Ari’s daughter was standing with her arms crossed, her bunny clutched to her chest. Her face was set into determined lines, her eyes dark and full of challenge. Ari stared at Reine, suddenly struck by the fact that in that moment, she looked almost entirely like Marnie. It was disconcerting and almost terrifying.

“I mean no,” Reine said again, and she stamped her foot for effect. “I’m not going anywhere, Mummy.”

Ari’s mouth dropped open. In seven years, Reine had never once spoken back to her.

“Right now, I cannot deal with this.” Ari stopped, taking a deep breath. “Young lady, you need to go and get your things. Right now.”

“No.” Reine stamped her foot again. “I’m not leaving.”

“Yes, you are,” Ari argued. “I am your mother, and I know what’s best for us. And right now, there are people downstairs who are not the best for us.”

“Like who?” Reine challenged. “You mean my father?”

Ari inhaled sharply, dropping to the bed. She stared at Reine, deciding to be honest.

“Yes,” she told her. “Your father. He’s not good for us, baby.”

Reine stared back at her. “You mean he’s not good for you,” she retorted. “But he might be good for me.”

At that, all the breath seemed to leave Ari’s body, and her eyes filled with tears. “Reine—”

“Reine, go with Uncle Sebbie.” Luis’s voice sounded through the room, and Ari watched as Reine looked towards him.

“I’m not leaving, Tío Luis,” she said. “I want more time with him.”

“We’re not going to make you leave, Reine,” Luis replied good-naturedly. He walked towards her, picking the girl up and cuddling her to him. “But we think that, just for tonight, you should sleep in our room. That way we can keep an eye on you and Margaret Thutcher,” he winked at the girl, “make sure the two of you don’t go on anymore midnight walks.”

“Yes, come on, Reine,” Sebastian stepped forward, taking her from Luis’s arms. “I snaffled a bottle of port from the stash downstairs and downloaded a few episodes of Great British Bake Off onto my iPad. Let’s go and make a night of it.”

“You can’t watch Bake Off without me!” Luis said indignantly.

“Oh relax, I’ll screenshot the bits where Paul Hollywood’s flashing his baby blues and giving that dismissive-sexy look,” Sebastian snapped back. “And you know how watching someone fall apart over a botched crème patissière relaxes Reine.”

“Fine,” Luis replied, “but don’t you dare watch bread week without me. You know I need all the tips I can get for my banana bread.”

“Oh, you and your banana bread,” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Every time I suggest a bit of light baking, you bring up your banana bread. It isn’t that special. Every man and his dog can make banana bread, Luis.”

“Not with my passionfruit and cream cheese frosting,” Luis said indignantly.

“You mean the gloop that turns a perfectly serviceable bread into a sickly cake? Hate to break it to you, but yes, they can.”

“Sickly?” Luis looked affronted. “My banana cake isn’t sickly!”

“Look, all I’m saying is that if you’re going to make a fruit cake—”

“Banana cake isn’t fruit cake.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I mustn’t have got that memo from the Worldwide Food Organisation announcing banana’s transition from fruit to protein. Silly me.”

“Sebastian, Luis—” Ari began, rubbing her eyes.

“You’re just being pedantic,” Luis said, crossing his arms. “Banana cake is not a fruit cake.”

“Luis—” Ari tried again.

“My God, Luis,” Sebastian stood taller, shifting Reine in his arms. “How many times do we have to have this conversation? I’ve told you for years, all banana cakes are fruit cakes but not all fruit cakes are banana cakes . It’s so simple, so—”

“Sebastian—” Ari said, her patience dissipating.

“I don’t think banana cake is a fruit cake,” Reine piped up, and at that, Ari’s patience finally snapped.

“Can you two quit it!” she snapped. “Now you’ve got Reine talking about flipping banana cake!”

Sebastian and Luis, to their credit, instantly fell silent.

“Look, honey, just don’t watch bread week,” Luis said eventually, looking placatingly at Sebastian. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Sebastian sighed. “You know I wouldn’t. I know bread week is your favourite.”

Luis nodded. “Thanks. I’ll only be a minute or two with Ari here anyway.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Sebastian shrugged. He put Reine down. “Go and say goodnight to your mum, love.”

Ari gazed miserably at the little figure of Reine through her tear-misted eyes. The little girl must have sensed her sadness, because she suddenly flung her arms around Ari’s neck, hugging her tightly.

“We need to get out of here,” Ari tried again, holding back her tears as she held her daughter tight. “We can’t stay here.”

“Ari,” came Sebastian’s voice, light with warning, before he pulled Reine from her arms. “Come on, miss. Let’s get you settled. And have a little talk about fruit cake.”

Ari watched as Sebastian carried Reine away, feeling panic begin to build within her once more. Her chest felt tight and her pulse raced, while her skin felt clammy with cool sweat.

“Luis,” she said brokenly, “Luis, we can’t stay here, we can’t, we have to get out of here—”

“Ari,” Luis said calmly, sitting on the bed next to her, taking her hand. “Take a deep breath, honey.”

“I can’t, I just can’t.”

“Ari.” Luis shifted so that Ari was facing him. He squeezed her hand lightly. “If you walk away tonight, and take that little girl—who is full of perfectly valid questions right now, by the way—with you, you’re only delaying the inevitable.”

Ari sniffed, nodding miserably and wiping her eyes. “I know. I just... I just don’t want to—” she looked at Luis with helpless eyes “—it wasn’t meant to be like this, Luis. It wasn’t meant to be like this at all.”

Luis nodded sadly. “I know, honey.”

“I wanted to be the one to tell him. I wanted to be the one to tell her .”

“I know that too.”

“What do I do?” she asked him. “I don’t know. I’ve taken care of myself for years now, and this is the first time I’ve ever not known what to do.”

Luis paused. Ari stared at him.

“What?” she whispered. “What do you think?”

“You aren’t going to like it.”

“So what?” She gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t like anything about anything right now. At least I trust you. You can tell me something I don’t like, and I still know that you only want what’s best for me and Reine. Please, tell me what you think. And be honest.” She sighed. “I’ve had enough lies to last me a lifetime.”

Luis took a deep breath.

“Well,” he began, clearing his throat, “for one thing, you can’t run away. Oh, I get why you want to, and we’re tempted to come with you. Honestly, not five minutes ago Sebastian was on the phone to British Airways to see if we could all check into the red-eye home.”

“But I bet they were fully booked, right?” Ari asked.

“Yes. Well, mostly .”

Ari stared at him.

“They only had seats left in economy,” Luis admitted. “And while I’m happy to turn right on any flight, you know Sebastian won’t eat his plane food off of anything but fine bone china. And what would we do at the airport if we can’t get into the first-class lounge? Duty-free only entertains for so long, Ari.”

“I used to like airports,” Ari replied absently, thinking of a warm pair of eyes gazing at her from across a cold terminal floor. “I used to like them a lot.” She stopped, shaking her head. “Okay, so we fly tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Luis nodded. “I’ll get us booked on the first flight home with first-class availability.”

“Reine and I can fly economy.”

“The hell you can.” Luis almost looked affronted. “You stay with us.”

“You both love Reine so much.” Ari sniffled again as tears threatened to run down her cheeks. “You love her more than she even knows.”

“We love you too, you know. Which is why I’m gonna say this. You need to talk to that man.”

“Luis—”

“No, Ari, listen to me. He’s an absolute shit. Culero , I would say at home. But whatever he is and whatever he’s done... he’s still Reine’s father.” Luis took a deep breath. “And she knows it now too.”

Ari nodded sadly. “I know.”

“It’s like a can of worms has been opened,” Luis went on. “And look, we can fly home and try and squeeze the lid back on. Do some damage control and all that. But worms are still gonna find their way out, Ari, and Reine will want to know more about her father and he’s gonna want to know more about her... and that mother of his.” Luis gave Ari a knowing look. “She’s a hard one, that Marnie. I don’t think she’ll give up on Reine easily.”

Ari nodded.

“But look, while Sebastian and I are fully prepared to take on Marnie and Tom — Tom, whatever his name is — we aren’t prepared to take on Reine about this. She has a right to know where she came from and who her people are.”

“But they aren’t good people—” Ari started to argue, and Luis nodded, understanding written across his face.

“Maybe not. But she’ll still want to know . Honestly, Ari, do yourself a favour and save her rebellion for her teenage years. She’s a little young to peak at seven.”

Ari sighed. “All my instincts are telling me to get away from this place.”

“And they’re probably right. But trust me on this one. Talk to him. Give him time with Reine. Work something out.”

“God,” Ari exhaled, allowing her head to rest against her hands. “How did it come to this? Visitation rights for Tom and fucking Sasha .”

“Sasha? I don’t know about that,” Luis said with a shrug.

“What do you mean?” Ari peeked at him from between her fingers.

“Well, let’s just say I’m not having my girls start on that wedding dress anytime soon. I don’t think it would be a practical use of their time.”

“Luis—”

“Look, Ari, just talk to the man. Sort something out. Not for him, not for you, but for Reine, okay? She’s the important one. Everything else is just...” Luis paused, clearly thinking something through. “Water under the bridge?”

“Not in this case. Not water under the bridge.” Ari sighed. “It’s magic gone wrong.” Instinctively, she reached for the queen of spades in her pocket, before her fingers made contact with the hard seam of her coat and an overwhelming misery engulfed her. That’s right , she thought sadly. I tore her up.

The queen was gone.

“Ari?” Luis asked curiously. “You okay?”

No, she longed to reply. I haven’t been okay in years.

“Ari?”

“I used to like airports,” Ari said again, and now a tear did run down her cheek. She looked up to Luis with hollow eyes. “I used to like them a lot.”

* * *

There was too much noise and Tom couldn’t think.

In one ear he had Sasha buzzing, her words sharp and demanding.

“What did she mean? That kid is yours? Tom, what the actual fuck? How could you not tell me? I can’t believe how selfish you are. This is meant to be my special weekend. This is not meant to be about you or her or anything else. What the fuck, Tom?”

In the other ear he had his mother, jumpy like an excited rabbit, her eyes wide.

“You spent time with her? She knows you’re her father? Oh my God, Tom, this is the best thing ever. We were so worried about her, but she was with you the entire time. You’ll bond with her, and then I will, and then I’ll have everything I ever dreamed of. This is wonderful, Tom.”

There was other noise too. The clicking of Stella’s camera as, frame by frame, she caught every uncomfortable word being thrown in his direction. Luis and Sebastian, muttering between themselves, throwing him dirty looks like he was the devil incarnate. There was a more intensive noise too, like a roaring wave in his ear, as his heart beat fast and his head buzzed with adrenaline.

“I can’t do this now,” he said desperately, breaking free from the circle of people around him and walking away. “I just can’t do this.”

“Tom!” Sasha screeched. “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

“I just need to think,” he replied miserably. “I just need time and space to think.”

“What, eight years wasn’t enough time for you?” Sebastian asked snidely, and Tom snapped his head in his direction, regarding him warily.

“You can think what you like about me,” he said to him quietly. “It’s not your opinion I care about.”

Sebastian’s face remained sharp, dislike spread across his features. “I’m going to give you some good advice you in absolutely no way deserve. You don’t have time to think. Ari is probably upstairs packing her bags right now. Time is not something you have the luxury of.”

Tom stared at him.

“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” he said shortly. “You think I’m going to make things worse by barging upstairs and demanding she stay? I’m in no position to make any demands of her, and I’m not going to. I know this will seem unbelievable to you, but I still care about Ari.” Tom swallowed hard. “More than any of you will ever know. And I care about that little girl now too.”

“You care about them?! I don’t believe this—” Sasha began to speak, but Luis scoffed before she could finish her sentence.

“A ten-minute conversation with Reine and you care about her? Please.”

Tom watched as Sebastian moved closer to him, taking Luis’s hand in his own. They were a unit against one soldier, Tom realised. They were displaying their unity to him and Marnie.

“You haven’t been there for either of them,” Sebastian carried on mercilessly, picking up where his husband left off. “You’ve missed every birthday. Every school run. Every wobbly tooth. Every holiday. You’ve missed everything.”

“I know,” Tom replied tightly. “And I hate that, almost as much as I hate knowing I can’t change it. But you should both know this.” He leaned towards them, using his height and strength to tower over the pair. They might be a unit, but they were fucking with the wrong soldier. “I intend to be there for the rest of them. Every birthday. Every holiday. Every wobbly tooth. You better get used to my face, because you’re going to be seeing a lot of it.”

“Don’t you think you should talk to me before you start planning Chuck E. Cheese birthday parties and decking me out in a tutu to play the tooth fairy?” Sasha asked, louder now, stepping towards Tom and pulling him towards her. “Aren’t you forgetting that I’m your bride , Tom? How are you even this kid’s father? How are you even—”

Tom ran a hand over his face. “Can we please talk later?” he begged Sasha. “I can only deal with one problem at a time, and I—”

“Oh,” Sasha interjected, stepping back and crossing her arms over her chest. She glared at him. “Oh, I’m a problem now, am I? Well, Tom, that’s fine. I’m going to go upstairs, lock the door, and when you come to find me later, you’ll see just how much of a problem I can be.”

“Sasha, I just think that Tom—” Marnie began, but Sasha spun on her heels to face her.

“Oh, can it, Marnie. No one cares what you think.”

Tom watched as Marnie frowned. Luis, his stern expression fading momentarily, leaned towards his mother.

“I care what you think, do?a,” he said kindly.

Sasha bristled. “I’m going upstairs. I’m putting on a face mask and don’t want to be bothered for at least the next hour. And Tom,” she turned back to him viciously, “don’t you dare make any more cute little family plans until you’ve spoken to me, understand?”

Tom said nothing, watching as his fiancée stomped away.

Sebastian watched her go too. “Good luck with that,” he told Tom bluntly, nodding after Sasha’s retreating form. “And good luck with your grand plans to play Dad to Reine. Right now, you can’t even bring yourself to go upstairs and talk to Ari. You think you’re going to be playing happy families with Reine in the near future? Think again.”

Tom inhaled sharply.

“You’re one to talk about happy families,” he said quietly. “Neither of you are Reine’s father. And no amount of playing happy families with her is going to change that.”

“Tom—” his mother warned sharply, but Tom cut her off.

“No, Reine is my daughter,” he carried on, “and that’s how I’ll be treating her from this moment on.”

Luis and Sebastian both gaped at him, while somewhere in the background Tom heard Stella let out an impressed breath.

“This is solid fucking gold,” she murmured. “Brandon, make sure you have my extra rolls of film ready. I don’t want to miss a moment of this.”

Tom cleared his throat as an uneasy silence fell across the hall.

“Well,” Sebastian’s sharp tone cut through the frosty atmosphere like a knife, “we’ll see about that. We’re going to go upstairs now and check on Ari and Reine. You take all the time you need, Somerset... Miller... whoever you are. But just think about this. Tomorrow, two of us in this room will be leaving with Ari and your daughter. And let me tell you now, it won’t be you or your mother.”

“Hey,” Marnie said, obviously affronted.

“Sorry,” Sebastian nodded to her. “In case I didn’t say it earlier, the salmon today really was divine.”

“The chef marinated it in coconut milk,” Marnie replied quietly.

“Coconut milk? How delightful.”

“I’ll send you the recipe.”

“Please do. You have my email.”

“Tom—” Marnie said, turning to him, but Tom shook his head at her. He watched as Sebastian and Luis went up the stairs, before turning and leaving as well.

He needed silence. He needed to think. He needed a plan.

* * *

Sometimes in New York, when feeling troubled, Tom liked to sit under Ari’s paintings. He would lock himself in his study, taking comfort from the layers of paint he knew she’d studiously applied, feeling close to her even from a distance of years. He would stare up at her work, remembering her hands as they held a brush, remembering the splodges of paint on her fingertips, recalling the light in her eyes as she worked at the thing she loved best. He would remember Ari, and his mind would clear.

Her memory was better than any prescription drug. Her memory was better than any therapist or counsellor.

Here at his mother’s house, with his study denied to him, Tom found himself in the long gallery, sitting under The Ends of the Earth . He stretched his long legs out on the floor, closing his eyes and letting his head rest against the wall. He brought forth memories of Norway, remembering an orange and pink sky and how Ari’s skin had glowed underneath it. He remembered a faded hotel room, and how Ari had looked and felt in his arms. He remembered happier times and felt his mind clear.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a figure at the end of the gallery.

Ari.

Tom sat up quickly, watching as she walked towards him. She looked small and wan, wrapped up in a long coat, her hands crossed protectively over her stomach. She looked at him and, even in the dark, Tom could see that her hands were shaking, and her cheeks pale.

“Ari—” he began, but she shook her head, silencing him.

“Can I...” she began, and her voice wavered. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yes, of course,” Tom replied earnestly. “Please.”

Ari shook her head again, clearing her throat. “Um, can I... talk to you as Tom Miller? Just for a minute?”

Tom Miller. Tom felt his stomach sink.

“I, um—”

“I just...” Ari shrugged sadly “. . . I just need to tell him something.”

“It’s still me,” Tom whispered. “It’s still me, Ari.”

“No,” she said shortly, and the word echoed down the empty hall.

“Ari—”

“Please,” she begged. “Please pretend. Just for a minute.”

Wordlessly, Tom nodded. He watched as Ari brushed a tear away, coming to Tom’s side and settling next to him on the floor. She glanced above her head, sighing at the painting above.

“It was never my best work,” she said quietly.

“You know I loved it.”

“I gave it to you for a reason,” Ari said. “I never thought you would stay as long as you did, you know. I always expected you to walk out the door one day and never come back. I thought this painting would be something you would remember me by. That it would sit on your wall somewhere, and that maybe one day you would tell people about this great artist you once knew.” She gave a bitter sigh. “I guess I was both right and wrong, in a way. You did leave one day, and you never came back. You also hung the painting on a wall. It just wasn’t your wall. And you never told anyone about me. No one at all.”

“Ari, I never meant to hurt you,” Tom said miserably.

“That’s Tom Somerset talking, not my Tom.” Ari looked at him pleadingly. “Please pretend. Please.”

“Okay,” Tom exhaled hard. “Okay.”

Ari took a deep breath. “Tom, there’s something you need to know. I got pregnant. That time at the Hotel de la Reine ... when we weren’t careful. I got pregnant and I had a baby.”

Tom was dimly aware of his heart beating fast in his chest. Ari was doing this because she needed it, he realised. This was something she had to do, something that was giving her peace and a kind of comfort. Instinctively he reached over and took her hand. He squeezed her fingers, her skin cool against his, and he felt a tremulous rush of hope run through him when she squeezed his hand back.

“I had a baby girl,” Ari said softly. “February twenty-sixth.”

Tom felt something warm run through him. He knew his daughter’s birthday now. He would never forget that date again, he promised himself.

“She was eight pounds and nine ounces. The midwives all laughed when she was born, asking how a small thing like me could produce such a big baby. I told them her father was big. I told them your name. They were so kind,” Ari sniffled. “They didn’t ask where you were. They didn’t ask why you weren’t there.”

“I wish I’d been there,” Tom said fervently. “I wish to God I’d been there.”

“I had Luis with me. Sebastian stayed for as long as he could manage. At one point a doctor came in to measure my cervix and Sebbie went out for a snack and never came back. Luis found him in a Subway sandwich shop three miles away the next day.” Ari smiled. “Reine was born with a shock of dark hair. She looked just like you.”

Tom felt inexplicably sad. “Can I... have a baby picture of her? Or any picture. I know I have no rights here, but it would... it would be nice to see her.” His voice wavered, betraying his uncertainty.

Ari paused. “My Tom wouldn’t say that. That’s Tom Somerset.”

Tom looked down. “Sorry . . . I just . . .” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Ari sighed too.

Tom looked at where their fingers lay entwined. He could remember holding her hand during happier times. Could remember taking her hand as they walked down European streets. Could remember gripping her hand as they lay in the snow of a French mountain, Ari’s face ethereal against the soft white ice around her. Tom looked at her face now, only to find her gazing steadily at him. She held his eyes for a moment, and Tom felt a jolt of bittersweet pain run through him. The gallery was quiet, moonlight stealing in from the windows, and he took a deep breath.

“I’m glad we have a baby,” he said, honesty rolling off him in waves. “You’ve made me so happy, Ari. So happy.”

“Really?” Ari asked, and her voice broke on the word. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and Tom squeezed her hand again.

“Yes. God, yes.”

Ari took a shaky breath. “Thank you for saying that. You don’t know what it means to me.”

Tom winced. “Don’t thank me. Don’t thank me. Please don’t.”

Ari continued to gaze at him. “You wear your hair shorter now.” She reached her free hand up, as if to touch his cheek, before she thought better of it, letting it drop back to the floor. Tom longed for her to touch him, to caress him and tell him everything would be okay, but he knew it was a useless hope.

“When Reine was about six weeks old,” Ari continued, her eyes now down, “all her dark hair fell out and came back in this honey blonde shade. I was devastated. I cried over her. It felt like another part of you being taken away.”

“Corentin has hair like Reine,” Tom explained gently. “And my grandfather had the same.”

“Oh,” Ari breathed. “I didn’t know that. I wouldn’t though, would I?”

“I’m sorry,” Tom said again. “I’m so sorry.”

Ari’s eyes travelled up to Tom’s face, lingering on his eyes. “Why didn’t you come for me?” The tears finally fell down her face. “Why didn’t you find me?”

Tom felt his heart break into small pieces. Useless now to tell her he had found her. Useless now to tell her he’d made a terrible mistake. Useless now to tell her anything at all, other than that he was sorry. Sorry for everything he’d done, and sorry for everything he’d missed.

“I don’t know how I can ever make this up to you,” he whispered.

“I don’t want Tom Somerset now,” Ari said, wiping her cheeks with the back of a hand. “Please be Tom Miller. Just for one more minute.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m tired of hearing that word,” Ari said softly. “I’m tired all the time, actually. I work so hard, Tom. I have to put a roof over Reine’s head. Feed her and keep her healthy. I have to worry about her schooling and make sure she gets to all her activities and clubs. I have to pay bills. I have to keep a house clean. I have to exercise, and I have to work, all the damn time. Wedding after wedding after wedding, an endless parade of white satin and salmon en croute. It’s exhausting. I feel like I’m spinning plates in the air, and there’s always one on the precipice of breaking. Luis and Sebastian do what they can... But I’m on my own. I wish you’d come for me.” Ari wiped her cheek again. “I wish you had.”

Tom took a deep breath, squeezing her fingers.

“I’m here now,” he promised. “I’m here now for you both.”

“But I don’t want Tom Somerset,” Ari replied, crying openly now. “I want my Tom. And it breaks my heart to learn that he doesn’t exist. That he never existed. That it was all a lie.”

“It’s still me,” Tom whispered miserably. “Ari, it was always me.”

“No,” Ari said bluntly. “That’s not true. Because I loved him, and I think I hate you.”

Tom sat back, jolting away from Ari as though she’d struck him. Her words were like salt rubbed into a festering wound, and he felt tears prick at his own eyes.

She would never forgive him, he realised. She never would.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled slowly. There was a ball of pain inside him, sharp and jagged. It ached with every breath he took. It would never go away. That pain, and the knowledge he had only himself to blame, would live with him until his dying day.

But it wasn’t about him anymore. It was about Ari and Reine. So he took from Ari’s words what he could.

“I loved you too,” he said, reaching towards her, cupping her face in his hands. “I loved you too.”

She looked at him with wet, wide eyes.

“I loved you so much, and I still love you,” he uttered fervently. “I’ll never not love you, Ari.”

“I love you too,” she replied, and she brought her hands up to his, stroking his long fingers. “I’ll never not love you, Tom.”

He couldn’t help himself. He leaned towards her, pressing his lips to hers. Her kiss tasted like the salt of her tears — or maybe it was the salt of his tears, Tom couldn’t be sure. All the same, it was sweet and loving and tender, and his heart broke a little again when he realised it was a kiss of farewell. The last kiss Tom Miller would ever give Ari, and the last kiss Tom Somerset would ever give her too.

When they pulled apart, Ari sighed, dropping her hands back into her lap. She chewed on her lip for a moment, looking at him.

“You can be Tom Somerset now,” she told him softly. “You can stop pretending.”

“I meant it,” he said. “I meant every word. I’ll always love you. That was never pretend. That was real.”

Ari shook her head. “It doesn’t matter now. We need to think about Reine. It isn’t about us anymore. It’s about her.”

She stood, dusting her hands on her coat and looking down at him.

“I’m glad you kept it,” she said, nodding to her painting. “When I first got here, and I thought you’d sold it...” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I’ll give it to Reine, if you like.”

“One day you can,” Ari said. She swallowed hard. “I... I want you to get to know her. You should know her. I won’t... I won’t stop you from seeing her, in case you were worried. We can work something out.”

“Yes.” Tom nodded, his throat constricted with pain. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for being a good mother. Don’t thank me for putting my child first.” Her tone was unnaturally sharp, and Tom realised the brief moment of openness she’d shared with him was closing up. Her shell to him was hardening, closing him out of her heart forever.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Ari announced. “I’m too tired to think about you now. Go back to your fiancée, Tom.”

“Sasha and I—”

“I don’t want to know,” Ari cut him off bluntly. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Before Reine and I fly home. She starts school again in a few days... and I need space from you. We’ll work something out before I go.”

“Ari—” Tom tried again, but she turned and walked away. Tom watched as she disappeared down the gallery, her head bowed, her shoulders slumped.

He slept right there on the gallery floor, exhaustion winning over the tumultuous turning of his mind.

When he woke in the early morning, he padded upstairs to his room, opening the door to find Sasha surprisingly still there, fast asleep in their bed. His foot stood on something soft as he quietly entered the room, and he looked down, surprised.

A glossy piece of paper was under his shoe. Tom bent down to retrieve it, examining it carefully in his hand.

His heart constricted in his chest when he realised it was a photograph of a baby.

This baby could only have been a few hours old when this picture was taken. Their hair was dark, while their skin still had that pinky-red tone of a newly born infant. The child was wrapped in a pink blanket, a pink hat on her head, and she was fast asleep, with dark lashes against her cheeks.

This was his baby, Tom realised, and for a moment he clutched the image to his chest.

Ari had given him a photo. She had given him a baby photo of Reine.

Head bowed and heart low, Tom quietly started to cry.