by Nina Singh
She was so different from the women he’d dated before her. Those ladies wouldn’t have been caught dead letting themselves be covered with leaves. Even a trip to the park would entail the utmost preparation and wardrobe prep. Not that many of them would venture to a park to begin with. Compared to his previous paramours, his wife was downright Bohemian. Before he’d met her, Marco would have never guessed just how attractive he found it.
None of his previous relationships had even come close to becoming serious. Which had suited him just fine, he’d liked it that way. But then he’d met Brianna. Her earthiness, her sheer zest for life called to him like no one else ever had.
And the way she treated their son. At times like this it took his breath away. Memories assaulted him. He wasn’t much older than Enzo when his own mother had packed up and left the first time.
He would do anything to spare his own child that level of pain.
He made himself tear his gaze away. The only other man in the park had his eyes set firmly on Brianna; his look was clearly appreciative. Marco cleared his throat and scowled at him when the man finally managed to look his way.
Brianna noticed him as well. His eyes met hers and the laughter immediately stopped. She stopped the twirling and bent down to brush leaves off Enzo’s hair.
Marco jammed his hands in his pockets. There was no reason to treat him like a killjoy ogre. The pleasant greeting he’d been ready to approach her with died on his lips.
“We didn’t think we’d see you so soon,” Brianna said, lowering herself onto the blanket behind them. She didn’t sound very happy about it.
“Disappointed?” Marco asked as he picked Enzo up and tousled his hair.
The blush on her cheeks deepened. “Surprised.”
“Why is that?”
She shrugged. “I just figured you’d be at the office all day. In Italy, you never returned home until late. Sometimes very late.”
He turned to look at her as he set down his squirming son. She had her hands wrapped around an insulated cup. Her gaze was fixed on Enzo as he moved to the sandbox a few feet away.
“If you weren’t expecting me,” he continued, “why did you leave a note?”
She took a small sip and he had to force himself not to watch her lips. “That note was for Curtis. He said he might stop by. You know, to go over what we expect of him over the next few days.”
Curtis. Marco felt a cold chill slither over his skin. She’d been expecting to meet Curtis here. This quaint scene before him. His wife. His son. It was all meant to be shared with someone else, with another man.
He stood abruptly. The note he still held seemed to burn his palm. He crumpled it up and stuck it in his pocket.
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
She blinked at him. “I expected you to work late and left a note for Curtis because he said he might come by before we left. I fail to see why that compels you to snap at me.”
He gritted his teeth. “I was merely apologizing, cara. That I showed up rather than your so-called nanny.”
Brianna drew back. Then stood as well and reached for Enzo’s hand. “Let’s go, baby.”
“Are we leaving?”
“It’s time for his nap. So yes, Enzo and I are leaving.” She placed the child gently in his stroller then buckled him in. “You are more than welcome to stay. Maybe the fresh air will clear your head.”
With that she brushed past him, pushing the stroller in front of her. Marco had to step out of the way to avoid having his toes run over. Taking a deep, calming breath, he turned and followed them out of the park.
The image of her laughing and playing with Enzo from just a few moments ago had completely evaporated. Why had he ever thought he could be part of such an image in the first place?
* * *
Her fingers were tingling. Brianna looked down at her knuckles and realized she couldn’t possibly grip the stroller handle any tighter. By the time the three of them made it to the wooden gate in front of her house, she was as red-hot mad as an oiled skillet. The brisk walk in the strong autumn wind had done nothing to douse her ire. She was grateful for that. She needed the anger, welcomed it. Because if she let go of being mad, she knew she would have to acknowledge how deeply he could hurt her.
She pushed Enzo’s stroller into the front yard and gently lifted him. The afternoon of play followed by the short stroll back had put him to sleep. Without a word to Marco, she carried Enzo up the porch steps and into the house.
She longed to slam the door behind her, right in Marco’s face, but didn’t dare with the sleeping child cradled in her arms.
She’d had enough. She managed to change Enzo without waking him and settled him in his crib for what she hoped would be a long nap. Then she stormed into her own room without bothering to go back downstairs where he was.
This was the reason she had left Italy. This was why she and Marco had to be apart. Marco had nothing but disdain for her. She was far too unrefined for him. Too impulsive.
Too common.
It was a wonder he’d ever wanted to marry her in the first place. Though that decision had nothing to do with her and everything to do with his traditional values and culture. He simply wanted to claim his child. This whole sham of a marriage was her fault. She’d known his true motivations.
Someone like Brianna Stedman should have known better. For heaven’s sake, his proposal had been made over a very tense lunch one afternoon after she’d called him to tell him about the pregnancy. He’d flown back the next day. She hadn’t been able to eat a thing on her plate, and it had nothing to do with morning sickness.
No, it was all because every cell within her was screaming that this was all wrong. The man across her at the quaint restaurant table was merely doing what he thought was the responsible thing. Love or emotion played no variable in the equation. Marco had even listed all the reasons their marriage would make sense, as if reading off some document in bullet form. He was approaching it as practically as another business deal.
She’d known all that and had said yes anyway. Foolish as it was.
In her blind desire to finally become part of a family, she’d rushed into a marriage for all the wrong reasons, hoping it would somehow all work out. Like some kind of Cinderella story. Well, real life went hardly the way of fairy tales.
Stomping toward the bathroom, she peeled off her clothes and stepped into the shower. It took a while but the pulsing, steamy water slowly started to ebb the edge off her emotions.
She shut the water off and wrapped a towel around herself.
Marco was waiting for her outside the bathroom door.
Brianna pulled the towel tighter. “I’m not dressed.”
He turned his back and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Exasperated, but too tired to tell him to leave, Brianna went to her closet and retrieved her long thick robe. Yanking it on and tying it around her, she let the towel drop.
Marco chose that moment to turn back and watched the towel fall to the floor. He looked at her with clouded eyes. Despite the bulky terry robe, Brianna felt naked and exposed under his gaze.
She pushed past that thought and grabbed at the anger again. “Listen, Marco. This arrangement is not going to work at all if you keep behaving the way you have been.”
“How exactly would that be?”
“You have to give me room and you have to give me leeway. I’m simply trying to move the best I can.”
He merely nodded. A surge of relief spiked through her that he wasn’t going to argue. So she went on.
“It’s something I need to do. For my son. And yes, also for myself.”
“Very well, cara.” Marco spoke with all seriousness after several moments of silence. “Your point is made.”
* * *
For the next few days, Marco seemed to do his best to heed Brianna’s wi
shes. He was polite, considerate and genteel. She hardly recognized him. During the day, he went to his office. In the evening, he spent hours with Enzo either reading to him or playing on the floor. A foolish part of her would even be sorry to see him leave. He was due to depart in the morning.
He seemed to be a completely different man from the one she had lived with in Italy. And watching him with her son was doing near damage to her psyche. If she wasn’t careful, she could easily fall for the man. Again. She had to remind herself this wasn’t the real Marco. Here in New York he was in a different setting, a whole different atmosphere. Upon his return to Italy, Brianna had no doubt he would turn into the hardcore, determined businessman who spent most of his hours running a global conglomerate.
She couldn’t harbor any pretense that the Marco she was currently observing was the true personality of the man.
It was the reason she had to make sure to maintain her emotional bearings and move on. She had to make her own way, find her own direction. Growing up being bounced from one foster home to the next. Making a name for herself in her chosen field would mean the world to her.
That was why it was so frustrating that she’d been unable to get hold of Chef Ziyad’s assistant. After several attempts and messages, the man still hadn’t returned her calls.
Brianna sighed and picked up the phone once more to give it yet another try. Again, she got voice mail. Fighting the urge to slam the receiver back in its cradle, she bit back the surge of disappointment. She had to acknowledge that perhaps Ziyad’s offer had occurred on an impulsive whim. The man was notoriously spacy and temperamental.
It was quite likely that, as far as her career was concerned, she may very well be back at square one.
Here she was, no real career prospects and a marriage in shambles. Failure at every turn. As far as orphan tales went, hers was clearly not to be a success story.
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS PAST two in the morning when Marco heard the first shriek. He felt the next one as much as he heard it. A jolt of alarm shot through him. Enzo.
Marco sprinted to the nursery. Brianna was already there, lifting the baby out of his crib.
Marco watched helplessly as she tried to soothe him, rocking him back and forth, whispering into his ear. It was all to no avail. The scene made Marco’s blood run cold. Something was terribly wrong with his child.
Brianna lifted her eyes and found his. Even in the dim light afforded by the small night-light, he could see the alarm in her face. Enzo was wailing frantically now, flailing his arms. Marco noticed she was having trouble holding on to him.
“Here, let me have him.”
Brianna hesitated. Then she carefully handed him over. Enzo didn’t seem to notice he’d switched hands. His screams continued.
“It’s okay, little man,” Marco whispered in his ear. “I’m here. Just calm down. All right, son, just calm down.”
Enzo wasn’t having any of it. He started pumping his legs furiously, his screams becoming louder. Brianna seemed in a near panic now.
“It’s all right,” Marco said in his gentlest voice, not sure if he was addressing her or his son. “Everything’s fine, love.”
He nuzzled Enzo’s ear, whispering the same phrase repeatedly. He lost count how many times he said it.
“Son, I want you to calm down. It’s all right. Papa’s here.”
The ticking of the cartoon character wall clock seemed to echo throughout the room between the screams. Shadows moved across the opposite wall as a car drove down the street outside. Enzo continued to yell, his tiny fists clenched tight.
He could do nothing but pace with his child in his arms. At some point, his words turned to Italian. He hadn’t even realized he’d switched over. Maybe it made a difference because Enzo’s wails gradually grew quieter. Eventually, they went from shriek-like screams to sad, woeful moaning.
Finally, Marco saw him open his eyes wide. He focused for a full moment on his father’s face. Then suddenly, he threw his arms around Marco’s neck. Marco rubbed the tiny back, still whispering in Italian. Enzo tightened his arms around his father’s neck. His little legs slowed their jerky thrusts. The tiny arms around him loosened their hold but remained tight around his neck.
Marco was afraid to move, afraid any change would resume the screaming. So he just stood there, dropping the barest of kisses on the top of Enzo’s head.
He finally looked up to Brianna. Some of the color had returned to her face. She still looked shell-shocked. Marco took the risk of shifting Enzo ever so slightly to reach for her. He gently ran the back of his fingers down Brianna’s cheek then gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
She bit her lip and felt Enzo’s forehead. At her touch, Enzo’s wails stopped completely.
Several moments later, once Enzo’s breathing had gone from sharp short bursts to the long sighs of a child in deep slumber, Marco slowly, gently placed him back in his crib. He stared at him a moment. Enzo looked completely peaceful, if not a little exhausted. Marco stepped aside as Brianna covered him up. She placed a plush teddy bear to his cheek, which Enzo immediately grabbed.
For a while, they both just stood and watched him. He had no idea how much time had actually gone by. When Marco was certain Enzo had settled for good, he guided Brianna by her elbow to the door.
Out in the hall, he turned the hall light on and rubbed a weary hand down his face. Brianna was trembling.
“Hey, try to get a hold of yourself, Bree. He’s fine now.”
She nodded. “I’ve never seen him like that.” She looked up at him, her eyes full of fear. He wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms. Soothe her with gentle words and soft kisses, the way he had with Enzo in there.
He crossed his arms before he could reach for her. “So he’s never done that before?”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, not even close. He wakes up all the time during the middle of the night but usually acts like he just wants to play.”
“He must have had nightmares before.”
“Of course. But nothing to even make note of. He awakens, I rock him back to sleep and that’s the extent of it. What he did just now—” She hugged her arms around herself. Marco couldn’t help reaching over this time, he just couldn’t. She looked so frightened, much like a child herself. He gave her shoulder a small squeeze and quickly tried to pull his hand away. But she grabbed it, held on to his fingers as if he was pulling her out of treacherous waters.
“Do you think it’s us, Marco?”
He gave a weary sigh. “Perhaps. My being here may have triggered memories of his old life.”
She’d finally voiced the thought he was certain they’d both feared. Marco ran his hands through his hair. “Cara, I just don’t know. We don’t let him see us argue, but I daresay he’s sharp enough to sense the tension between us.”
Brianna threw her hands up. “But he’s never acted like this. We’re not doing anything all that different than the way we were in Italy.”
“Old habits die hard,” he said dryly.
“Maybe he’s just older now and it affects him more.”
Marco let out a deep breath; perhaps he’d been holding it since he’d heard the first scream. His eyes stung from tiredness and he rubbed them until they hurt. “Looks like you were right. My being here has had a negative effect on him.”
Brianna stepped to him and touched his arm. “No, please don’t think that. He’s been so happy these past few days every time he sees you. His behavior has greatly improved.”
Marco couldn’t believe she was trying to comfort him. About this of all things. He looked down where her fingers lay on his bare skin then looked back into her eyes.
“No, if anything, it was me,” she continued. “I’ve put him through too many changes. Just the turnover of our nannies has led to too many adjustments for someone so smal
l. He must feel so helpless, while all these decisions are made around him.”
The words were almost an exact echo of Nonna’s earlier. He hated it when the old woman made sense.
Brianna searched his face. “What is it? What are you thinking?”
“We’ve both been neglectful of his needs, Brianna. We didn’t give him enough credit because he was so young.”
“I guess neither one of us saw how intuitive he is.”
He looked up at the ceiling. “The only one who did was Nonna.”
“How do you mean?”
“I spoke to her that first day after I arrived. At the office. She was very concerned about the effect all of our maneuverings were having on Enzo. I didn’t want to give her concerns much thought.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“Something quite close to what you just did. That all sorts of decisions are being made around him and he’s probably confused.” He shrugged. “Frightened.”
“She’s right. She saw it better than we did. Did she say it was my fault?”
“Brianna, she doesn’t think that.”
“Do you?” she asked, her lips giving an almost imperceptible tremble.
“Of course not.”
She looked far from convinced.
Marco sighed. “Listen, we both neglected to gauge his response properly to our splitting up. We just need to be more careful.”
“What else did Marie say?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me, Marco. I can see it.”
He shrugged. “You’re not going to like it.”
Brianna rolled her eyes. “I don’t like any of this.”
“That he needs to be in more familiar surroundings, near familiar people, during all these changes.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Like the villa he was born in and great-grandmother who doted on him and the staff he’s known since he was merely days old.”
Marco nodded. “She thinks it would be better for Enzo if the two of you were back in Italy while we finalize what to do about the end of our marriage.”
