Irresistible Greeks Collection. Кэрол Мортимер
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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