Athena lifted her head from Antonio’s shoulder, cutting his mocking laughter short.
She took her lower lip in slowly, trying to understand why she felt so guilt-pricked at the sight of Ewan looking so downcast. Was it because Mr. and Mrs. Thorne were regarding her with a plea and a taint of sorrow? Or was it something else?
She looked at her children. They appeared just as confused as she was. However, Kathleen’s face was also besotted with another emotion—pity.
Athena chewed on her lower lip and realized she needed to salvage the situation because it was quite bad. Ewan was here to see the children, not to get humiliated.
"What is the name of the book?" She finally spoke, retrieving her hand from Antonio’s grip and breaking the tense silence. If she felt bad about this, then it was bad.
Ewan might have done a lot of things, but at this moment, she needed to cut him some slack. Moreover, there had to be a reason for why he had gotten her books.
She recalled the last gift he had given her, and her brow furrowed now as she watched Gianna peer into the gift bag again. Her heart rate picked up as a knowing feeling rose within her—could it be Coleen’s? ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ NovᴇlFir(e).nᴇt
She nodded slowly in resignation, looking at Ewan a second later, when Gianna met her gaze and spoke up. "It’s from your favorite author, Coleen Hoover."
Of course, Athena thought, not sure what to do with the varying feelings swelling up within her, especially as Ewan’s head remained bowed. Antonio’s laugh must have dealt a significant blow to his ego.
Yet, wasn’t that why she had wanted Antonio here? To destroy whatever hope Ewan had concerning her and the children?
"Ewan, thank you. Old Mr. Thorne is right. You give thoughtful gifts," She said, getting to her feet, accepting the gift from Gianna. A smile touched her lips when she saw the titles of the books—they were the recent releases from the author.
When she looked at Ewan again, he was looking at her this time, with relief.
"I’m glad you liked it. But if you want an Areso gown..."
Athena chuckled before she could help it. "No, I don’t. This is perfect. Thank you very much. I’ve wanted these books for a while." She paused, curtailing her excitement—she didn’t want to send the message that she was very cool with him now. "So, what did you get for the twins?"
Ewan wetted his lips as the nervousness returned, clasping his hands tight, causing a furrow to mar Athena’s forehead, as well as the twins’.
This time, Sandro, eager to get this over and done with, so that his friend could breathe easier, got to his feet and sauntered over to the remaining packages. He started with Kathleen’s.
The little girl’s mouth formed an ’O’ when Sandro brought out the castle puzzle and set, followed by the paint materials, including a canvas.
Buoyed by surprise and excitement, she stood up slowly, ignoring her brother’s whispered angry calls, and met Sandro halfway. "Is it for me?" She asked, her voice barely over a whisper.
Sandro smiled and nodded. "Yes, beautiful one. What do you think of it?"
Kathleen pursed her lips, darting a sharp glance at her mother. Athena gave her a small nod, a smile still playing on her lips.
Kathleen smiled widely and bobbled her head, grabbing the painting brush set from Sandro first, her eyes twinkling. "Thank you! How do you know I love drawing? It’s more like a secret hobby... only Nathaniel knows of it..." The last part was muttered but loud enough for everyone to hear.
Athena looked at Ewan, this time as if he was an interesting puzzle she was trying to solve. How did he know to get Kathleen a painting set? She glanced at Nathaniel, who was as shocked as his sister. Interesting.
"Thank you, Mr. Sandro..." Kathleen gushed, looking over the set in her hands.
But Sandro shook his head, smiling and gesturing to Ewan. "Your father bought it."
Kathleen was left stomped immediately. She looked as though she didn’t know what to do with that answer. Her hand gripped the material tightly as she pondered within herself if it was okay to hug this man who shared the same blood with her.
He had hurt her in many ways, yet, at this moment, holding proof of his thoughtfulness in her hands, she wondered if maybe... if maybe it was okay to give him a chance. Was she too quick to forgive?
She swallowed, aware of the tension brimming in the room, aware of the pressure on her little shoulders.
She sneaked a look at Ewan; he was staring at her with hope shining in his eyes. Thinking of crushing that hope, of snubbing him like she had done earlier, made her feel uncomfortable.
So, she walked slowly to him, her breath catching as she halted before him, with her hands still clutching the paintbrush set like a lifeline.
"I..." She paused, then exhaled. "Thank you for the gift, Mr. Ewan."
It wasn’t ’father,’ but Ewan was okay with it; his daughter was talking with him. Overexcitement had him clenching his thighs so that he wouldn’t hug her to himself and inhale her scent which he knew would be calming... like her mother’s...
"You are welcome, Kathleen. It was a pleasure." He managed to keep his voice calm and collected, while his heart raced.
Some feet away, Athena watched, surprised by the relief flooding through her when Kathleen offered a small smile before hurrying back to Sandro, who helped her move the packages to the side of the room.
All eyes fell on Nathaniel next.
The little boy pressed his lips in a thin line, not in a hurry to get out of his seat. Instead, he folded his hands across his chest, his eyes focused on his mother as if seeking her permission, or rather, informing her that he wasn’t interested.
Athena sighed tiredly, wishing they were not surrounded by family and friends. It would have been easier for Ewan, for her, and for the children. This crowd, as familiar as it was, was putting pressure on her family.
Hearing the note of warning in his mother’s voice, Nathaniel grumpily got up from his seat and strolled blankly to Sandro, who stood in the same position.
"What does he have for me?" Nathaniel asked coldly, his hands still folded across his chest, a frown masking his handsome little face.
Sandro stared at the young boy, wishing he could tell him that sometimes it was better to forgive than to hold onto grievances, because life was too short.
Not speaking to his own father and lacking closure before the latter passed was one of the regrets he had, and he didn’t want that for Nathaniel.
He would have loved to speak with Nate, but they had an audience. So, he squatted before the lad, meeting his gaze steadily, amazed at the striking resemblance the latter bore with Ewan; they even shared the same cold countenance.
"Nate..." Sandro paused, shook his head, and thought better of it. This was not the time. He turned to the remaining package and carefully tore it open. The LEGO set came out first.
Nathaniel displayed no hint of emotion, sinking a stone in Ewan’s heart. His son was very much like him.
Self-pity quickly progressed to anger when he saw Antonio smiling.
What was funny? Did Antonio tell his son to be unresponsive to his gift? Ewan sighed in resignation. No need to lay blame on anyone else—he had done this to himself.
However, hope sparked within him when Nate raised an eyebrow as Sandro brought out the comic books.
That hope died as quick as it arrived though, when Antonio started laughing again.
"First books, now comics? Are you trying to dull his brain?"
"And what is that to you?" Ewan asked, his eyes flashing with impatience, unable to contain his anger anymore as he sprang to his feet.
"Ewan..." Sandro tried to pacify his friend, but the tension already hung in the air.
Just then, Zane entered the room, halting as he assessed the mounting tension. When had things gone south?
His gaze flitted to Athena; she was glaring at Antonio. What had happened? What did Mr. Loverboy do? He wondered, before glancing at Ewan again.
"What is that to me?" Antonio reasserted, entirely focused on Ewan. He laughed again with disbelief. "That is my son, that’s what! He bears my name in case you’ve forgotten!"
Ewan shrank back, as if given a blow. He staggered, his leg hitting the sofa. He furrowed his brows, looking lost, as he grabbed his phone and staggered past Zane toward the exit.
But Florence would rather die than allow this tension to linger. "Ewan, please..." She cried out, hurrying over to him. "Don’t mind Antonio. He can be a bit rash..."
"That’s enough, Antonio," Athena spoke aloud, shocking him and everyone else in the room, including Ewan.
Old Mr. Thorne sighed in relief. There were many ways he would have preferred to resolve this situation, but it wasn’t in his place, even though it was happening in his house. Athena had the final say.
"But..." Antonio began, but Athena raised her hand, silencing him. He opened his mouth stilll, to speak again but then closed it, numbed with shock.
"We are all aware that Ewan came here to see the kids; it was agreed in court. I suggest that we be civil, at least." She turned to Nathaniel. "Do you like the comic books? Do you want it? Tell the truth, Nate."
Nathaniel, flabbergasted, turned to his father. "I do like them, Mom. I have always wanted comic books, but I didn’t think you would want that for me."