Breaking the Greek's Rules (16 page)

“They’d be happy to see you, too,” Cal had assured Daisy last week when they’d discussed plans. “You don’t have to be alone.”

But Daisy had shaken her head. “I’ll be all right. I’ve booked a photo shoot.” She had done it deliberately, agreeing to a plea from one of her old college classmates that she do a four-generation family shoot on Christmas afternoon.

“They’re all only here for the day,” Josie had apologized when she’d asked. “I know it’s probably impossible being Christmas and all … but just in case …”

“Sounds great,” Daisy had said firmly. It would keep her from sitting at home alone and miserable. “It’ll be fun.” She’d pasted a bright determined smile on her face. “If it’s nice and there’s snow on the ground, we can shoot it in the park.”

It was nice. There was even, amazingly enough, a few inches of new snow on the ground. And more was drifting down by the time Cal appeared at the door.

He was smiling and looked happier than she could remember. She knew he’d met someone. It was early days yet, he’d told her last week. But there was a light in his eyes she hadn’t ever seen before.

He took one look at her pale face and the dark circles under her own eyes and said, “You look awful.”

Daisy laughed wryly. “Thank you very much.”

But Cal frowned. “I shouldn’t be taking him away from you today. Come with us.”

Adamantly Daisy shook her head. “I’m meeting Josie’s
family at their place at one to do some indoor shots, then we’re going to shoot at the Bow Bridge in the park if it’s still snowing.”

“Come after you finish.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Go on. Have a good time.” She gave Charlie a hug and a kiss. “Behave.”

“I always behave,” he said stoutly. “I’m bringin’ my new guys to show Grandpa.”

“He’ll like that.” Daisy gave him one more squeeze, then stood up. Her smile was strained. Of course Charlie didn’t notice. She hoped Cal didn’t, either. “See you tomorrow,” she said with all the cheer she could manage. Then she shut the door behind them, leaned back against it, and pressed her hands to her eyes.

It was letting Charlie go, she told herself. This was, after all, the first Christmas that she hadn’t had him with her all the time. Always before, after their divorce, Cal had come here and they’d celebrated together. But they both knew that couldn’t last. He had a life now—and she had to get one.

Now she scrubbed at her eyes and took a deep, hopefully steadying breath, then she went upstairs to get ready to go, picking out the lenses and filters she wanted to take, determined to keep her mind busy so she wouldn’t think about where Charlie was and what he was doing and …

… about Alex.

She
had
to stop thinking about Alex.

It had been two weeks since they’d had their confrontation. Two weeks since she’d spurned his offer of marriage before he could even make it, since she’d told him exactly what she thought of it—and of him—and had shoved him out of the door and out of her life.

He hadn’t been back.

Was she surprised? Of course not. It was for the best, really, and she knew it.

What surprised her was how much she cared.

She didn’t want to care! She didn’t want to miss him,
didn’t want to remember him sitting on the floor playing with Charlie, didn’t want to think about him telling their son a story, didn’t want to close her eyes and be plagued by images of him with Charlie in his arms or on his shoulders, the two of them grinning at each other.

She didn’t want to remember how proud she’d felt the night he’d got the award for his hospital design, how intently she’d listened when he’d told her about his inspiration for it, how much she heard and understood what he didn’t ever say.

She didn’t want to think about him—and she couldn’t seem to stop.

Now she finished packing her gear bag, slipped on her puffy, bright blue down jacket and headed toward the park.

It was Christmas. A time of hope. A time to put the past behind her and move on. She squared her shoulders, and picked up her bag. Maybe after she’d finished Josie’s family’s photo shoot, she would go ice skating, meet the man of her dreams, fall in love.

Fairy tales. Would she never learn?

Daisy sighed and headed for Josie’s place.

Four generations of the Costello family were ready and waiting. Josie swept Daisy into their Fifth Avenue sixth floor apartment overlooking the park, equal measures eager and apologetic. They were so glad to have her take photos of their family holiday, they were so sorry they were taking her away from her own family today of all days.

“It’s all right,” Daisy assured them. “I’m glad to do it.”

It was every bit the distraction she had hoped. The seven children—cousins who didn’t see each other often—along with their parents, grandparents and two great-grandparents, were a noisy energetic mob. And Daisy, intrigued by the possibilities, threw herself into the work.

She did a series of family groups, then gathered them around the table, shot Josie’s grandfather slicing the turkey, her grandmother helping the youngest grandson fill his plate.
She caught two cousins playing chess in front of the fire, three little girl cousins playing dress-up with the small trunk of fancy clothes one had got for Christmas.

It was the perfect family Christmas, the kind she’d seen in movies and on TV. The kind she’d always wanted for herself. And especially for Charlie.

She shot their preening and their giggling. She shot four generations of Costello men watching football on television, simultaneously cheering or groaning. She had all the children make a human pyramid that mimicked the Christmas tree.

Then, as soon as she shot that, she said, “Let’s go to the park,” before things got rowdy, which the human pyramid showed signs of becoming.

The snow was still falling, picture-perfect, when they got to the Bow Bridge. She posed them there and did a couple of formal shots for posterity while passersby, walking off their Christmas dinners, stopped and watched then, smiling, moved on.

Daisy didn’t pay them any mind. She glanced their way, then turned back to shoot a series of photos of great-grandpa and grandpa and two little grandsons building a snowman. The girls were making snow angels, their colorful scarves flung out against the snow as they moved their arms and legs. They danced and played and she captured it all—the grace, the laughter—mothers and daughters, grandmothers, great-grandmother and granddaughters. The boys were wrestling in the snow now, pelting each other with snowballs, laughing madly.

Family.

How she envied them their family. She tried to shove the thought away even as it tightened her throat, made her swallow hard. She blinked hard and stopped shooting for a moment, needing to turn away.

Several people who had been watching, smiled at her and scuffed their feet and moved away. She got a grip, started to
turn back, then caught a glimpse of someone else out of the corner of her eye.

Her gaze stopped, jerked back, dismissed it. She turned to shoot the snowball-throwing boys again. But her heart was beating faster as she edged around to get a different angle, to look west without turning her head.

He was still there, standing in the shadows beneath the trees.

Lean, tall. Dark wind-blown hair. Wearing jeans and a hunter-green down jacket.

“Lookit me!” one of the Costello boys shouted. He had scrambled up into the crook of a tree and peered down at her.

Daisy turned, focused, shot. Then she swivelled again, taking more shots of the snowball fight, but not even looking at what she was shooting.

She was trying to squint past the camera, to get a better look. He was too far away to be sure. But the last time she’d seen Alex he’d worn a jacket like that.

Surely it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It was her stupid fairy-tale-obsessed mind playing tricks on her.

She turned and aimed her shots at the snowman builders now. Grandpa had the littlest boy on his shoulders to loop a scarf around the snowman’s neck. Daisy shot it all. That was what she was here for.

When she turned around again, she expected the man to be gone. He was leaning against the tree, hands in his pockets, staring steadily at her.

Daisy raised her camera and pointed it. She zoomed in, and caught her breath.

Slowly Alex nodded at her.

But he didn’t move, didn’t come closer. Just leaned against the tree, as if he was waiting for a bus or something!

“Are your fingers freezing? Daisy? Daisy?”

She turned, realizing that Josie had been talking to her. “N-no. I’m fine. I—Fine.” She glanced back.

He was still there.

“I think we’ll call it quits if you’ve got enough,” Josie said. “The little ones and great-grandma are getting cold. I am, too,” she admitted, blowing on her hands. “But it’s been such fun. Will you come with us? We’re going to make cocoa for the kids and hot toddies for the grown-ups.”

The panicky desperate part of Daisy wanted to jump at the invitation. Whatever Alex was doing there, he was there on purpose. He had something to say. And Daisy was sure she didn’t want to hear it.

But if she didn’t hear it now, he’d find another time. And at least she wouldn’t have to worry about Charlie overhearing.

“Thanks,” she said to Josie. “But I’ll just go on home. I loved doing it, though. I’ll have the proofs for you by the end of the week.”

“Fantastic.” Josie gave her a hug. “You were brilliant. And we had a blast. We’ll remember it always.”

Daisy smiled wanly. She had a feeling she would, too.

With cheery goodbyes and fierce hugs from several small children and a couple of great-grandparents, Daisy began to pack up her gear while the Costellos headed back across the park.

She focused securing the lenses in her camera bag. She didn’t look around, ignored the sound of footsteps through the snow. But her heart was going like a jackhammer in her chest. She straightened just as a shadow fell across her.

“Daisy.” His voice was soft and gruff, surprisingly hesitant.

Steeling herself, she turned. The sight that met her eyes was a surprise, too. This wasn’t the smooth confident man she expected to see. This Alex’s jaw was stubbled with at least a day’s worth of beard. This Alex’s eyes were bloodshot and shadowed. As she stared, his jaw bunched and tightened. He ran the tip of his tongue between his lips, then pressed them together again.

“Alex.” She nodded carefully, determinedly giving nothing away, particularly encouragement. The last thing she needed was to fight this battle again.

For a long moment he didn’t speak, either, and Daisy wondered if she ought to just step around him, head home. Maybe he’d just been walking in the park, had happened on her by accident. God knew perverse things like that could happen.

“You were right,” he said abruptly. “What you said.”

Daisy blinked. What she’d said? What had she said? Uncertainly she shook her head.

“That I didn’t want to love. That I pushed people away.” He answered the question before she even had to ask. He said the words quickly, as if he needed to get past them. Then he said again more slowly, “I didn’t want to. Then.” Pale green eyes met hers.

Then? Which meant … what? Daisy felt herself tense, but didn’t move. She searched his gaze, tried to hear the words he never said.

Then he took a breath and said them. “I loved my brother,” he said, the words coming out on a harsh breath. “And I thought I killed him.”

“What?”
She stared at him, aghast.

He shook his head. “We had a fight … over a car. A toy. I was
eight
,” he said harshly. “And I gave him a bloody nose. He bled and bled. They said he had leukemia. I thought …” He shook his head, anguished. “I wasn’t even nine,” he said. “I didn’t know.”

“Oh, Alex.” She just looked at him. She’d known about his brother. She hadn’t known this.

“He said I didn’t. But he just kept getting sicker. And … then he died.” Now she could hear him dragging the words out. “My parents were shell-shocked. Destroyed. They couldn’t help each other. They couldn’t even look at me.”

“It wasn’t your fault!”

“I know that now. But we don’t talk much in my family, not about …” He swallowed, then looked past her over her shoulder, staring into the distance, his eyes bright with unshed tears. Whatever he was seeing, Daisy was sure it wasn’t in Central Park.

He brought his gaze back to hers, his eyes filled with pain. “When I was ten years old I thought I’d killed my brother and ended our family.” His throat worked. “I loved all of them.”

And she had told him he didn’t love anyone.

“I’m sorry.” Her words came out as brokenly as his. She wanted to reach out, to touch his sleeve, to put her arms around him. She had no right. “I’m so sorry.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly. He took a breath and then another. “I put it away, shut it out of my mind, didn’t deal with it. I never talked to anyone about it—except you. Five years ago.”

Her eyes widened. “You never—?”

“No. I shut it all out.” There it was, the sharp hard edge. She could hear it. It was the way he always shut people out.

He bent his head. “But I couldn’t shut you out.” His voice was ragged. A faint smile touched his beautiful mouth.

“You certainly did,” Daisy reminded him. She remembered his words all too well.

Alex had the grace to grimace. “I tried,” he allowed. “Because you got under my skin. Made me feel things that scared the hell out of me.”

“What?” Daisy blinked, confused.

“I was … falling in love with you—even back then, that first night.” He pulled a hand out of his pocket and rubbed it against the back of his neck. “I was falling in love with you,” he repeated, wonderingly, as if he was amazed he could admit it not only to her but to himself. “And it scared me to death. When you started talking about it like it was a good thing—loving—all I could think was, ‘I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll destroy her, too.’” His tone was harsh, anguished. And when she looked close she could see his eyes glistening. He blinked rapidly, then gave a quick shake of his head. “So I did.” He swallowed. “Hell of a lot safer that way.”

Daisy digested that. Drew in a breath, then another, and cocked her head, then asked him gently, “Was it?”