‘Because of yours.’
She swallowed slowly as Hugh elaborated.
‘You father and I had a row.’
‘About?’
‘His home, his family.’ Hugh gave a tight smile. ‘About how he’d welcomed me in with open arms, how he’d treated me like a son, and that he deserved respect.’
And she could almost hear her dad saying those words, knew Hugh was telling the truth.
‘You’re not a very good actress, Bonita! That morning, when your parents came home, you were supposed to be angry and upset, not blushing and awkward and smiling.’
‘He knew we’d kissed?’
‘No!’ Hugh managed a laugh. ‘Can you imagine what would have happened if he had? I’d be minus two kneecaps now!’
At seventeen she had imagined Hugh defiant and strong, and to hell with what her parents thought.
At twenty-four, somehow her parents’ feelings mattered more.
‘You had three months left of school, you didn’t need to be messing up your head with silly crushes, your dad told me. He kept on that this was the most important time of your life. Can you imagine hearing that and knowing what had taken place, knowing that if they hadn’t come home when they had…
‘Bonny—as your dad told me—I was the last thing you needed.’
‘You were everything I needed.’ Bitter, bitter tears of regret stung her eyes. ‘You humiliated me, Hugh, you told me I had a stupid crush.’
‘You were seventeen!”
Two vast white plates were in front of them.
And they both declined cracked pepper and parmesan, even though, if she’d stopped to think about it, Bonita would have wanted it. Only she wasn’t thinking about food, wasn’t even thinking that she didn’t like wine as she took a sip while Hugh spoke on. ‘If I’d carried it on, stood up to your dad, what good could have come from it? You’d have left home, messed up your exams, your life.’ He clamped his teeth together, his jaw tightening for a moment before he continued. ‘Pretty much what’s happened now. You don’t have to leave because of me, Bonny. You don’t have to leave your job and home. It’s the last thing your dad would have wanted. I’ll get another job, I’ll move into the city, back to England…’
‘It’s not that straightforward!’
‘It can be!’ Hugh urged. ‘I wanted to see your dad before he died, I wanted to have as much time with him as I could, I wanted to help your mum—to show them that they, to me, are my family.’
‘What about Amber?’
‘Amber?’ Hugh gave her a bewildered shake of his head. ‘Amber—we’re friends—we went out years ago.’
‘And now?’
‘Friends.’
‘Nothing else?’ Bonita frowned when he nodded. ‘Nothing at all?’
‘OK, OK.’ Hugh winced. ‘One drunken night when I first got back, which we’ve both agreed to never discuss again…’
And it had to be true, Bonita realized, had to be true because she was grinning and he was cringing and no man, especially a man like Hugh, would admit to such a thing, unless they were being honest.
Really honest.
‘So why does she hate me so much?’
‘Because of the way you’ve treated me.’
‘Me?’
‘She warned me you were seeing someone before I came back. Then when you and Bill broke up I thought there was a chance, but you were so devastated about Bill, and so off with me…’
‘You were going out with Amber…’
‘Friends.’
‘The wedding!’
‘Friends.’
‘I heard you’re getting married.’ Bonita refused to believe it, her mind screaming at her to remember the facts. ‘You’ve got the ring…’
‘Ah-h, that!’
‘Yes, that!’ Bonita spluttered. ‘She told me if I came to your apartment again that she’d chuck a casserole…’ She had to quash down her words as the waitress appeared.
‘Is everything OK?’
‘Everything’s fine!’ Hugh waited for her to disappear before confronting Bonita, speaking in harsh whispers, his fury matching hers. ‘How do you expect her to be, Bonita? She’s my friend. When I told her how you’d treated me after your dad’s funeral…then rubbing my face in it later, holding Bill’s hand in the canteen…’
‘I was telling him about you.’
‘Me?’
‘He knows how I feel about you.’
Wine was quite nice really, Bonita decided, grabbing her glass as her words sank in. Wine was lovely with dinner because it gave you something to do with your hands, gave you a second to pause as you took a sip, as you decided whether or not to be brave, really brave.
Only the second she put down her glass the eager waitress was back, topping it up. Bonita just wanted her to go, wanted to be alone before she said it, before she took the biggest gamble of her life. She couldn’t wait a second more…
‘We broke up because he realised I liked you!’
She watched him process her statement. Like a sponge soaking up water, she could almost see him absorb each word, could see the adamant flicker of denial over his features, followed in an instant by realization of the possibilities. This thought process occurred for both of them and it was pointless to even pretend they could eat. Hugh called the waitress and asked for the bill, then changed his mind and thrust a pile of notes on the table. Then he took Bonita by the hand and they practically ran out of the restaurant.
‘You broke up with Bill because of me.’ They were in the street, he was pulling her hand, her heels clipping on the pavement.
‘Bill knew I was still crazy about you.’
‘Still?’
‘Always.’
They were at his apartment now—well, they had to be, because he was taking out his keys, inviting her into the bit of his world she’d never been allowed to glimpse. And walking through the door she felt as if she was going home.
To the heady citrus scent that was him.
To his shoes in the hall.
To his books on the shelf and her family in a photo-frame.
Lots of her family…her father, her mother, her brothers—and in each picture was her.
‘Six years ago I kissed a girl,’ Hugh said. ‘Supposedly just a kiss, but it was the most reckless, dangerous thing I’d done—not just to myself but to her. A girl who was forbidden because she was part of a family I adored, an angry, defiant teenager whose parents were running around trying to keep her from men. And the one guy they trusted was the one who wanted her most.’
And he kissed her then just to confirm it.
Not a stolen kiss, or a grief-laced kissed, just a kiss as if to prove that she was there.
And she kissed him back, not just because it made her feel nice but a big girl’s kiss because she wanted to, because she could, and because there was absolutely nothing wrong in doing so.
They needed to talk, but they needed each other more.
And she knew when he led her to his bed that it was her bed now, too.
That wherever they slept they were home.
‘You’re wearing a skirt.’
‘For you!’ Bonita admitted as he took it off, crying at her own honesty. Crying at the passion that only he could evoke.
That the dream she’d been chasing was coming true.
No need to draw the curtains because all she wanted to do was see him. Peel off his shirt and run her fingers along those strong arms that had held her when she’d needed them. Finally understanding why there were times when Hugh had pushed her away.
The guilty secret that was the two of them was put to bed as he lay her down.
That he loved her family too, that he, even when he had been so cold, had been looking out for her made it so easy to hold him, to be bold, to look at the man who had lived in her dreams for a decade now and make those dreams a reality.
To make love to him.
Because Hugh needed her now.
It was so good to
know when he held the peach of her buttocks and guided her down onto his erect length that she was giving back to him. There was no creaking bed, no chance of anyone knocking, just guilt-free exploration of him, feeling him. She smiled at the bliss of him inside her and felt utterly a woman as she moved her hips against his. There was no reason to hush each other as he rocked inside her. She was able to cry out when she came—and best of all to lie beside him on her side of the bed.
‘That’s my side,’ Hugh whispered in her ear.
‘Since when?’ Bonita grinned as he dragged her across the bed and lazily climbed over her. She didn’t really care where she slept, he could take whatever side he wanted so long as it was next to her.
‘Poor guy…’ She was in the crook of his arm, not staring up at the ceiling but, as was infinitely preferable, the side of his chest. She ran her fingers along the flat stomach that had teased her, scarcely able to believe they were there.
‘Who?’
‘Bill.’
‘I know—no one would listen when I said he was a good guy.’
‘You’ve been crazy about me all that time?’
‘No!’ She thumped his chest. ‘I pined for about six months when you went back to the UK, but after that I was doing fine without you, thank you very much! You just loused it all up by coming back!’
‘Made you realise how much you wanted me!’
‘Well, it didn’t take long!’ Bonita grinned. ‘To get your arrogant, over-inflated ego back!
‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Well, did you think of me?’
‘Sometimes.’ Hugh shrugged.
‘How many times?’ Bonita pushed.
‘Oh, when I emailed Paul, or when I rang your parents…’
‘And…’
‘About three months into a relationship.’ Hugh admitted, ‘when she didn’t make me laugh, or she didn’t make me angry, or she didn’t make me…’ He smiled down at her. ‘You run the gamut of emotions, Bonny.’
‘Ouch!’ Bonita winced, doing some frantic arithmetic. ‘Six years, divided into three monthly slots, just how many women were there?’
‘There were a couple that lasted longer.’ Hugh grinned.
‘How much longer?’
‘Till I bought the ring and the wedding plans started, and no matter how right I told myself it was, I just couldn’t convince myself…’ He turned to face her. ‘It wasn’t you.’
‘I wish he’d known…’
She could see the sun bobbing down over the bay behind Hugh’s broad shoulders, lovely reds and oranges, and her father was missing it all.
Not just the weddings and the grandchildren, but knowing that the Hugh he’d loved, loved the daughter he’d loved.
‘He did know.’
Hugh dragged her out of her pensive haze.
‘How?’
‘I told him.’
‘You told Dad how you felt about me?’
‘He said not to rush you. I was supposed to do it right…’ Naked, gorgeous and utterly unabashed, he walked across the bedroom, opened a drawer and pulled out a black case. ‘I was supposed to give you time to get over Bill, date you, and then one day…’ He opened the box and watched her frown as she stared at what lay inside.
Massive, sparkly jewels, which were somehow familiar.
This distant hazy memory of a little girl being a girl and trying them on.
Dressing up prettily and being scolded by her mother for touching someone else’s things.
‘Zia Lucia…’
‘Your dad gave them to me. He said that when the time was right…and if it wasn’t, well, I was to give them back to your mum.’
‘He trusted you with these…’ She stopped then, looked up at the man she had always loved, who had, in his own way, always loved her, and realised what a stupid thing she’d just said. Her father had trusted Hugh with more than jewels—he’d trusted him with her.
‘So the hospital grapevine did get it right.’ Bonita smiled.
‘Sort of…’ He pushed the ring on her finger. ‘Yes, I was crazy about a girl and, yes, I’d got the ring and was working my way up to telling her. Amber knew, and I guess she must have told someone.’
‘Who told someone.’ She kissed his lovely mouth.
‘Who told someone,’ Hugh said, kissing her back. ‘Next time you hear a rumour, you come to the source!’
Oh, she could have kissed him for ever, would have kissed him for ever if Hugh hadn’t pulled back.
‘Come on, you—get dressed.’
She didn’t want to get dressed, wanted to crawl back in bed beside him, wanted to make up for every minute that they’d ever been apart, but Hugh, as always it turned out, wanted to do the right thing.
Scrunching up the drive, stepping out of the car, seeing her mother come to the door, even though she wanted Hugh, she wanted her mother too, wanted to share with her this moment.
‘I wasn’t expecting you back.’ Carmel smiled, hugging her daughter and then hugging Hugh, too. ‘But I’m glad you came.’
EPILOGUE
STRANGE that out of all the Azetti siblings the one who liked the farm the least had turned out to love it the most.
Carmel had been advised by many not to make any major decisions for a year after Luigi’s death—advice she had respected, almost to the very day.
But though she still wanted to oversee the business, the house, she felt it was just too big without Luigi. It was a house built for a family, only how could she sell the home and keep the business?
It had to be both.
Except one rapidly expanding family didn’t mind living in the middle of a vinery and not having to worry about it.
Expecting twins, a sprawling farmhouse on the outskirts of town was just the thing for a busy consultant who liked, when he was away from work, to really feel as if he was away.
Carmel still owned the business, which meant she was a frequent guest at the kitchen table, and she never ceased to amaze her daughter.
This proud, independent woman more than coped. Always loving and respectful of her late husband, still she lived and loved her life. She moved to a gorgeous mews-type home in the centre of town, a ten-minute walk from the church with endless cafes and friends in-between. And she dropped in to see Hugh and Bonita, regularly at first, then extremely regularly, when her daughter needed her most.
Oh, and did Bonita need her now.
‘She hasn’t stopped crying!’
Hair piled on the top of her head, still in her pyjamas at six p.m., Bonita answered the door with a rather wild, slightly savage look in her eyes.
‘She’s cold!’ Carmel said, picking up the devil child. Red in the face, tight black knots of curls on the top of her head, she snuffled into her grandmother as if she hadn’t been fed in days!
‘It’s not cold, though!’
‘Little girls feel the cold!’ Carmel said, wrapping her in a bunny rug and cuddling her in as still she bellowed. ‘You feed Alex!’
Alex—just pulling him from his crib had Bonita’s breasts bursting with milk, this luscious baby, blond, content, happy to just twiddle Bonita’s hair as he patiently fed. Bonita swore she saw him raise one eyebrow and smile a dribbly smile at his little sister’s carry-on!
‘Maybe we shouldn’t go out.’
‘It’s your wedding anniversary,’ Carmel pointed out above the screams.
‘Hugh will understand—’
‘Don’t even go there!’ Carmel interrupted. ‘You get upstairs and get washed and dressed and put on some make-up! Alex and Lucia will be fine.’
Lucia.
Placing a sleepy Alex back in his crib, Bonita walked over to her daughter, stroked the crinkly, knotty curls, saw the little red spots on her cheeks from crying so hard. She felt the frantic unease that was ever-present in her daughter—and never could she love her more.
Her aunt, her grandmother, her mother all rolled into one—this tiny independent little l
ady who did things her way, much to everyone’s delight and frustration.
‘Go and get ready,’ Carmel insisted.
So she did.
And it still felt awkward.
It still made her blush when she dressed for him.
Which was maybe how it should be.
Tired of him seeing her slobbing around in jeans and oversized tops, she’d splurged and bought a dress.
Black—which was the only safe option when you had a milk let-down reflex that could be triggered by a cat meowing.
Lightly spun wool, which was perfect for the cool evening wind that was blowing in.
And cut so low it was almost indecent—which would hopefully cheer up Hugh, who had left the house over twelve hours ago.
Oh, but she wished her father was here to see them.
To see that his wayward daughter actually hadn’t strayed beyond the garden gate!
Shaking hands applied lipstick and perfume. She struggled with the earrings that nestled in their box, feeling the cool slip of stone from her aunt’s necklace between her breasts as she put it on.
It was almost easier not to go out.
They were both so tired, it would have been far easier to scrap any idea of dinner out and just catch whatever sleep they could.
But not in the long run.
This love was worth dragging a weary body out for dinner with the most fabulous guy in the world.
And walking into the lounge, she saw him chatting with Carmel as she made him a quick cuppa, his tie somewhere over his left shoulder as he cuddled Madam and Alex. She saw the flash of that in his eyes as she teetered in on her new high heels, and she knew he felt the same way she did.
That Hugh Armstrong thought he was married to the most fabulous woman in the world!
The restaurant was superb—or it looked it from her view from the bar stool, as they waited for their table.
‘Nice to get out?’ Hugh checked.
‘Yep!’ Bonita smiled widely, then blew her hair skywards as she let out a breath.
She’d spent the whole day trying to shave legs, pluck eyebrows, paint toenails—things she’d normally have zipped through in half an hour but trying to express enough milk to leave for the twins…
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