“An enclosure, like an aviary,” Nanna supplied.
“And there were lots and lots of big pretty flowers for the butterflies to land on.”
“Tropical flowers,” Nanna chimed in. “Most of them hibiscus.”
“It was near the rainforest at Kranda. Could we go there, Mummy?”
“Kuranda,” Nanna corrected. “Up above Cairns in Far North Queensland.”
Nicole shook her head. “That’s too far away, Zoe. It was lucky you saw it on TV.”
Zoe heaved a sigh but didn’t argue. She knew only too well that some things could be done and some things couldn’t. “They were all blue, the butterflies. The man called them—” she frowned, trying to recall the word “—Issies.”
“Ulysses,” Nicole recollected with painful irony. The glass one Quin had bought was still prominently displayed in his bedroom—a tormenting reminder of what he didn’t know, what he wouldn’t want to know.
Zoe cocked her head appealingly. “If we can’t go and see them, could you make one for my tree, Mummy? We haven’t got a blue one. Not all blue like the Ulysses.”
Nicole inwardly winced, knowing it would be forever connected to her nights with Quin. “Butterflies mark special occasions, Zoe. You’ll have to wait for one,” she said, hoping her daughter might forget about the blue Ulysses. “Now I must go finish drying my hair before I tuck you into bed for the night. Okay?”
“Okay, Mummy.”
Nicole caught a frown from her mother, worry in the hazel eyes. “Are you…going out?” she asked warily.
“No. I just want to finish doing my hair or it will end up frizzy,” Nicole rattled off carelessly, hoping to dismiss anything her mother had overheard from the kitchen doorway.
However, after she’d put Zoe to bed and read her a story, she found her mother pacing around the living room in an agitated state, the television switched off. “What’s wrong, Mum? You’re missing your favourite crime show.”
“I don’t like this, Nicole,” was shot back at her. “On the ’phone to that man, you sounded so bitter…vengeful.” She wrung her hands. “It’s
wrong, wrong. I shouldn’t have let you do this.”
“You didn’t let me, Mum. I did it on my own. My choice,” Nicole insisted quietly.
“It’s not good for you.”
“Oh, I don’t know. In a weird kind of way it is.”
“How?”
Nicole managed a wry smile. “I doubt there’s a man alive who’s as good as Quin in bed. It’s not exactly a hardship to spend twenty-six nights with him.”
“Do you still love him?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you can have really good sex without loving your partner,” her mother argued heatedly.
Nicole tried to shrug off the point. “Well, Quin and I still have a strong physical connection. It’s okay, Mum. Don’t worry about it.”
“No, it’s more than that. You’re getting hurt by him again. I heard it in your voice. You can’t change people, Nicole. They are what they are. And paying them back for not living up to what you want of them…”
“It’s not about what I want,” Nicole cut in fiercely. “Quin and I have a deal. A deal is a deal. No changes. That was all I was insisting upon, Mum. Now please…leave it alone. I do not wish to spend any more of my time on Quin than what he’s paid for.”
But, of course she did. He was on her mind more often than not. Her mother respected her wishes enough to drop the subject for the time being but her silence didn’t stop Nicole from thinking about him, nor brooding over what her mother had said.
When they both retired for the night, Nicole lay awake and very acutely alone in her own bed, hashing over what she did feel about Quin Sola. The bottom line was she did wish he would change and her bitterness stemmed from having her wishes thwarted. Her mother was right. Being vengeful did not bring about some magical transformation. On the other hand, it did satisfy a dark sense of justice to belittle his role in her life, as he had belittled hers when she’d desperately needed something else from him.
There was no good answer to any of this, she finally decided, and set her mind to counting sheep in the hope it would send her to sleep. It must have succeeded because she was jerked awake by the loud and persistent ringing of the doorbell.