‘Good morning,’ Loukis said, his tone as rough and deep as her thoughts.
She nodded and took a seat opposite him at the table, forcing her eyes to the view from the window, rather than the one in front of her.
‘Sleep well?’ he asked, a smile playing at the lips that had ravished her for hours the night before.
As if the gentle taunt called forth some of the power she had felt that night, she replied, ‘Very. And you?’
‘Not so much. I was distracted a little by a—’
‘Here! Look,’ Annabelle said, rushing back into the room and dumping something small and fluffy on Célia’s lap, cutting through the undercurrents of their exchange like a knife through butter.
‘It’s Mr Cat,’ Annabelle said proudly of the distinctly dog-like toy.
‘Mr Cat,’ Célia repeated. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said, taking the strange fluffy figure’s paw between her thumb and finger, shaking it in greeting, and trying hard to stifle the shocked, choking sound coming from Loukis.
‘What happened to Jameson?’ Loukis asked.
‘He lives with Mummy. But Mr Cat can live with you,’ Annabelle stated, seemingly ignorant of the slight flinch that shook Loukis’s body. ‘We’re going to the beach today,’ Annabelle announced, clearly of a mind that Célia would be in attendance. She was torn. Part of her wanted to spend the day whiling away the hours with Loukis and Annabelle, and the other wanted to hide, to retreat into work for the day, putting as much emotional distance between them as possible. Because this happy family unit...it was both tempting and terrifying.
* * *
Loukis had sensed Célia’s hesitation at the breakfast table, but refused to feel guilty at joining Annabelle in her not so gentle persuasion. Protests about not having a costume were refuted by the simple fact he had made sure that there was swimwear included in her new wardrobe. Objections based on work had been cast aside as it was a Sunday. Unable to prevent himself, any further refusals were silenced by a quick, firm kiss on her lips, which had apparently delighted Annabelle, whose enthusiastic squeals were punctuated by fist pumps and cries of ‘yes’, and shocked Célia into agreement.
Perhaps he had underestimated his little sister’s happy expectations and he refused to think of the time when that would come to a natural conclusion after the custody hearing. Because he was beginning to see Célia as more than a means to an end. Though what that actually meant eluded him.
For so many years he had remained firmly unattached. Determinedly so. Convinced that any kind of relationship was based on nothing more than delusional romantic notions that simply aligned with financial avarice, sexual desire and, on occasion, pregnancy—unexpected or otherwise.
But as he watched Annabelle and Célia play in the surf, the rolling waves crashing against the private beach, the sun-kissed skin across Célia’s shoulders and the happy smile on his sister’s face, he was beginning to understand the appeal. Walls were shifting within him as he felt a sense of something greater than himself and his goal of custody. But that only served to make him disconcerted, his natural inclination to turn away from a lifelong-held belief that would not be shaken by one night.
Not that it would be one night, he realised. Not now that he’d had an exquisite taste of Célia.
Annabelle had finally grown tired of handstands and underwater somersaults and made her way to where he sat ready and waiting with towels, drinks and, more importantly to his sister, crisps. Behind her, Célia seemed to drag her feet, as if reluctant to return to the tactile interaction of yesterday. Of before.
He made space for them to sit on the large beach blanket they’d brought with them, noticing that Annabelle seemed distracted as she wasn’t head down in the packet of crisps.
‘Nanny? You okay?’
She sighed in a way that made her sound much older than her ten years. ‘If I...if the custurdy thing says I have to go and live with Mummy, what happens to you?’
Despite Annabelle’s mispronunciation, it was on his lips to deny that she would ever go and live with Meredith, but he caught Célia’s focused look. As if she knew what he was about to say and desperate for him to change it. He’d done and was doing everything in his power to ensure that the custody case went his way, but he wouldn’t make a promise to her that he might not be able to keep. He remembered what Célia had said that evening after the video call. He remembered her warning to be there as a support for Annabelle and had taken it to heart.
‘Annabelle, no matter what happens, who the courts decide you will live with, there will always be a safe place for you here with me.
’
His answer didn’t seem to solve whatever his sister was wrestling with.
‘If you’re worried, I’ll do my best to make sure that what you want is heard.’
To his horror, tears glowed within Annabelle’s eyes.
‘But...what if...what if I don’t know what I want?’
‘What do you mean, chérie?’ Célia asked, putting her arm around Annabelle’s shoulders.
‘What if I don’t know who I want to be with?’ Annabelle whispered, looking at Célia as if she was too fearful to look at him.
Pain cut through Loukis. Pain and anger at his mother. Anger that Meredith had caused so much confusion and hurt in his sister. Because all he could see was having to pick up the pieces. Again. Of the eventual moment that his mother abandoned her. Again. And deeper than that, the ache with which he viewed his future without the little girl who had come to mean so much to him.