Bella’s eyes had opened widely when she’d seen him. She clearly hadn’t expected to. It hadn’t even registered at the time that she’d been dressed as an elf until he’d got back into the truck and was driving away. She made a cute elf, and he knew that Freddie would be having a great time with her, making Christmas special for other people the way she’d made it special for them against all the odds. But he couldn’t think about that now; he had to get this done first.

As he placed the key in the front door, Nick took a breath. The gentle fall of snowflakes made him even more eager to get this over with. He wanted to enjoy the snow with his boy, and with Bella. He wanted to build a snowman in the garden then huddle inside by the roaring fire, just the three of them.

Walking into the living room he saw Paige changing some of the ornaments around on the tree. For some reason it annoyed him. He and Freddie were happy with where everything was. It sparkled and glowed with perfection. She had no right to change it, the same way she had no right to come back after six months and expect things to be exactly the same. He was no longer her devoted husband. He’d always be a devoted dad, but he couldn’t bring himself to love Paige the way he once had. Freddie … Well, Freddie loved his mum and Nick would never get in the way of that, but after his discussion with Trish and Len, he’d come to realise that putting Freddie first hadn’t meant what he thought it had.

‘Paige, we need to talk.’

‘Where’s Freddie?’

‘I’ve taken him to volunteer at Bluebell Park. He and Bella are delivering presents from the giving tree.’

‘Ah, Bella.’ The snide remark stabbed but he let it slide. This wasn’t going to descend into an argument. There were serious things to discuss.

‘Yes, Bella. I was hoping to go too, but we need to talk.’

‘Fine.’ She sat down. ‘Let’s talk.’

‘This—’ He stuttered, even though at night while he’d lain on the sofa, he’d rehearsed the speech over and over again. ‘It’s not working, Paige. I—’

‘It’s not working because you refuse to act like my husband.’ Her words reverberated over the noise of the television, some Christmas cookery show, and she came and sat next to him, taking his hand gently in hers. This time, her voice had lost the spiteful tone it carried only moments earlier. ‘If we tried to get along like we used to, things might be different. I still love you, Nick, and I still find you attractive.’ She went to brush his hair from his eyes and instinctively he pulled away. ‘Don’t you find me attractive anymore? Don’t you still love me?’