Ana's pov)
While I repack our picnic things I call Chris over. There's still so much to see, and without the possibility of returning soon I want to make the most of our day. He comes running, diving into my arms. "Can I go bafroom with Gran?" he grins with his baby-blues blinking up at me.
"Sure, buddy." Turning, I find my mom. "Mom, do you know where to go?"
"Yep, I sure do but it's a little ways away, big man, can you hold it until then?" she asks, holding out her hand for him to take. He looks down and then back up, meeting her questioning gaze as he gives her a serious nod. Sometimes his gestures so strongly resemble his dad's that I have to fight the memories of Christian battering my senses.
"I'll wait here at the bench, in front of the ducks," I add, pointing as they turn to leave. My mom gives me a finger wave plus a little wink over her shoulder, and the sight of the pair of them warms my heart.
Quickly I get lost in thought, tracking the fluffy ducklings treading water as I wait for my little family to return. Absentmindedly my hand cups the back of my neck, drawn there by a strange prickling. In a rush of sensation I shiver, chill bumps racing over my skin as a sense of awareness compels me to turn my head.
Ever so slowly my gaze comes to rest on dull gray eyes that instantly grow and fuse to mine, the spark of recognition so shocking that my heart fails just as my belly goes into free fall. Everything around me disappears into a muted haze, my unsteady legs suddenly wanting to buckle beneath me.
My mind draws a complete blank and my breath stays resolutely trapped in my lungs. In my ears I hear a torrential river gushing past, drowning out every other sound. Instinctively my hand flies to my chest, clutching a fistful of t-shirt in an effort to keep my now-racing heart from drumming right out of my body. The distinct chance that I might faint makes my belly flip with queasiness.
His utter shock is clear and compounded by his parting lips, accommodating his sharp inhalation. "Ana?" his disbelief is tightly threaded through the gravelly tone of his familiar voice.
My confounded senses and paper-dry mouth only allow me to rasp his name in return. "Christian."
We stand there, completely caught up as the world passes us by in a blur of motion, unconcerned with the drama of our unplanned reunion. Locked on to each other, neither of us is able to tear away our glued stare. With each passing moment I feel long-stifled emotions popping like bubbles onto the surface of my troubled mind - feelings that I've more-or-less managed to bury in the depths of my denial.
For once my subconscious revels in the free flow of emotions. Unable to suppress our undying longing for him she whispers our heartbreaking secret. I love you, she breathes silently in my head, the echo reverberating through every cell of my being. With my slowly returning cognizance the first thing I notice is how lost he looks, so fragile, and I realize, so broken, his beautiful face etched with anguish.
Christian is the first to regain composure. Cutting away his stare he runs first one and then both hands through his hair, undeniably agitated. When his clouded gaze swings back to me I'm still stuck, dumbstruck, and incapable of coherency. What's wrong with him? I wonder, perplexed. I understand the obvious shock but why does he look so forlorn? Though his handsome face has lost none of its appeal, the vacant look in his eyes appears to be deeply haunted.
For a flashing moment I think I see a flare of pain flickering like a newly-lit flame in those eyes but, once more, they're neutral pools of unrippled mercury. Looking at him now only helps reinforce the belief that I did the right thing. He is the epitome of unobtainable, untamable male.
