‘Oh, Amy, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.’
‘What’s your fault?’ she asked, tilting her head back and searching his eyes. ‘That I left it so long to realise it was a mistake? Hardly.’
‘That you’re not married. Not on your honeymoon. That you’ve thrown away all your carefully laid plans.’
She shook her head and cradled his cheek in her hand. It felt rough, the stubble growing out now at the end of the day, and there was something grounding about the feel of it against her palm. Something warm and real and alive that made it all make sense. Or complicated it all a whole lot more. She dropped her hand back in her lap.
‘That I’m not married to the wrong man,’ she corrected, her voice soft but emphatic, needing to convince him so he didn’t carry this guilt around like a burden for ever. ‘You did the right thing, Leo. It was me who didn’t, me who ignored all the warnings going off in my head all the time. I thought I was just stressing about the wedding, but I wasn’t, it was the marriage, the lifetime commitment to him that was worrying me. I just didn’t realise it. So for goodness’ sake don’t beat yourself up over it, because it’s not your fault, OK?’
‘So why are you crying?’
She gave a little shrug. ‘Because the pressure’s off? Because I feel guilty because I’m glad I’m not married to him when he’s actually a really nice guy? Take your pick.’ She tried to smile, but it was a rubbish effort, so she sniffed and swiped the tears off her cheeks and tried again. ‘There. Is that better?’
‘Not much,’ he said honestly, lifting a damp strand of hair away from her eyes with gentle fingers.
‘Well, it’s the best I can do,’ she said, her voice choked again, and Leo closed his eyes and folded her close against his chest and rested his cheek against her hair. It felt a little stiff from the products she must have had put in it for the updo, not as soft and sleek as usual. Not his Amy.
His Amy? What was he thinking? She hadn’t ever been his Amy, even in the old days. And now was not the time to reinvent their relationship, when both of them were an emotional mess. However appealing it might be. And where the hell had that come from?
With a quiet sigh he loosened his hold and sat up a little, putting some much-needed distance between them before he did something stupid that he’d regret for ever.
‘You’ll feel better after you’ve had a good night’s sleep. Why don’t you have a shower and go to bed?’ he murmured, and she looked up at him, her eyes lost.
‘Where? Which bed? The room Ella’s in has only got single beds and you can’t possibly sleep in one of those, it seems all wrong. You should have the double.’
‘Don’t be daft. They’re not small beds. You take the double, it’s fine.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure, and I’m certainly not moving her tonight. I’ll sort the luggage out, and then you go and have a shower and get off to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning, honestly.’
‘Is that a promise?’
She looked so forlorn that he laughed softly and hugged her. ‘Yes, it’s a promise. New day, new life.’
It sounded great. He just hoped it didn’t turn out to be a false promise, because he was still waiting for that new life after copious new days. New weeks. New months. And there was no sign of it. He felt as if his life was on hold, in limbo, and every dawn was just as bleak as the one before...
* * *
Leo was right. She did feel better in the morning.
It shouldn’t have surprised her; Leo was always right. Why hadn’t she asked him about Nick before? Except of course it would have seemed disloyal, and even now it felt wrong talking to him about Nick because there was nothing wrong with Nick.
It wasn’t about Nick. It was about her, and the fact that it had taken her such an unforgivably long time to realise she wasn’t going to settle for sensible.
She sighed softly. She’d never been sensible. She only had to look at the mess she’d made of her other relationships to know that, so she might have realised it was never going to work with Nick. Except that was the very reason she’d thought it might work, because for once it was sensible, and it had taken her far too long to realise she was wrong.
Well, at least she hadn’t left it until after they were married. That would have been worse.
She threw back the covers and climbed out of the ridiculously enormous bed that Leo really should have had. She wished he had had it, because lying alone in the vast expanse of immaculate white linen had just underlined all the things she’d walked away from.
Still, as Leo had said, new day, new life. That was yesterday. Today was a new day, a fresh start, and she needed to get out there and embrace it.
‘Bring it on,’ she muttered, staring at herself in the mirror and digging out a smile. There. See? She could do it.
She could hear Leo and Ella in the little sitting room of their suite and they seemed to be having a lot of fun, babyish giggles interspersed with the deeper, soft rumble of Leo’s voice. She’d go and join them, bask in the warmth of their love for each other and see if it could drive out this aching loneliness.
She delved in her suitcase for her dressing gown, and frowned. Damn. She’d completely forgotten that she hadn’t brought the ratty old towelling thing that she’d had for a hundred years but a slippery little scrap of silk deliberately chosen because it was beautiful and elegant and undeniably sexy. To inject some fireworks into their honeymoon?
Maybe. It was what the garment was designed for, like the camisole nightdress she’d worn last night, and she hadn’t even thought about it when she’d said that she was packed ready to go, but she should have done, she realised in dismay. Not that she’d exactly had a lot of time to think about it in the hurry to leave.
She contemplated getting dressed rather than going out into the sitting room what felt like half-naked, but she needed a cup of tea and a shower before she could put on her clothes, and it covered her from head to toe. She tugged the belt tighter and opened the door. There. Perfectly respectable, if a little on the thin side, and it was only Leo, after all.
Only?
Scratch that. He was dressed in a battered old T-shirt and jeans, his feet bare, and he was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Ella, playing peep-bo from behind a cushion and making her giggle hysterically. And for some ridiculous reason he looked as sexy as sin. It must be the bare feet, she thought, and dragged her eyes off them. Or the tug of the T-shirt across those broad, solid shoulders—
He’s not sexy! She swallowed and wrapped her arms defensively around her waist. ‘Hi, guys. Are you having fun?’ she asked, smiling at Ella and trying to avoid Leo’s eye as he turned to look at her over his shoulder.
‘My daughter likes to see the sun rise,’ he said drily, and she chuckled and risked another glance at him.
Mistake. His eyes were scanning her body and he looked quickly away, a touch of colour brushing the back of his neck, and she wished she’d just got dressed because now she’d embarrassed him. Oh, God. Did he think she was flaunting herself in front of him? Idiot! She should have dragged on her clothes and changed them after her shower—
‘Tea?’ he asked, in a perfectly normal voice that didn’t for some reason sound quite normal because there was a tension vibrating in it that she’d never heard before.
‘That’d be great. I’ll make it.’
But he’d already uncoiled from the floor in one lithe movement and headed for the kitchen, as if he was suddenly desperate for some space between them. ‘I’ve had two cups,’ he said. ‘I’ll make yours, and you can sit and come round slowly and play with Ella while I have a shower, if that’s OK. Deal?’
‘Deal.’
He made it to the safety of the kitchen and let his breath out on a long, silent sigh of relief.
‘Th
ank you,’ she called after him.
‘Don’t mention it.’
He flicked the switch on the kettle, then stuck his head back round the corner while the kettle boiled, still managing to avoid her eyes by pretending to look at Ella. ‘I’ve got a meeting at nine that’ll probably go on all morning—will you be OK with her? She’ll probably nap for a lot of it.’
‘I’ll be fine, I slept like a log. Were you OK in that single bed?’ she asked.
Bed? Now she wanted to talk about the bed? He ducked back into the kitchen and busied himself with her mug, sending his unruly body a short, pithy reprimand. ‘Fine, thanks,’ he lied. ‘I told you it would be.’
It hadn’t been fine, but he wasn’t telling her that. Oh, it had been perfectly comfortable, if he ignored the fact that he was used to sleeping in a huge bed all to himself. What wasn’t fine was the fact that he’d been ridiculously conscious of her just on the other side of the wall, and swapping rooms wouldn’t change that. It would also mean sleeping in her sheets, and he’d had enough trouble getting her out of his thoughts as it was, without lying there surrounded by the haunting scent of her.
He made her tea and went back through just as she was trying to rearrange the dressing gown over her legs on the floor, and he put the tea down out of Ella’s reach and went on walking, keeping his eyes firmly off the slim, shapely thigh barely concealed by that slippery scrap of silk that wouldn’t stay where it was put.
‘Back in a minute. Don’t forget to drink it while it’s hot.’
He closed the bathroom door with a frustrated sigh and shook his head. Where the hell had this crazy attraction come from? Not that she was helping, flitting about in that insubstantial little silk thing, but why should that affect him now? It never had before, and Amy frankly wasn’t his type.
He liked sophisticated women, and there had been plenty to choose from, especially since the first television series. But he’d used discretion, or so he’d liked to think, until Lisa. Nothing discreet or sophisticated about that. They’d brought out the worst in each other, and the only good thing to come of it was Ella. Their entire relationship had been a disaster of epic proportions, and Lisa had paid for it with her life. He’d never forgive himself for that, and there was no way he was ready for another relationship, especially not one with someone as vulnerable and emotionally fragile as Amy.
Sure, she was a woman now, a beautiful, warm, caring woman, and without a shadow of doubt if she’d been anybody else he wouldn’t have hesitated. But she wasn’t, she was Amy, and she trusted him. It had taken a huge amount of courage to call a halt to her wedding the way she had, and she’d turned to him for help. The last thing he’d do was betray that trust.
However tempting she’d looked in that revealing bit of nonsense. Oh, well. Maybe Ella would be sick on it and she’d have to wear something else and everything would get back to normal.
He could only hope...
* * *
By the time she emerged from the shower, he’d had breakfast and was ready to leave.
‘I have to go, I’m supposed to be meeting up with them at nine,’ he said, fiddling with his phone. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right? Lydia said they’ll be around. They all stayed over last night so you should have some company.’
‘Fine. Great. And of course I’ll be all right,’ she said, crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘Just go. We’re fine, aren’t we, Ella?’
He flicked her a quick glance, nodded, kissed Ella goodbye, handed her to Amy and left.
Not popular. The baby gave a little wail, and it took all the skill Amy hadn’t known she had to distract her from the loss of her beloved father.
‘He’ll be back soon,’ she promised, and retrieved the dragonfly and squished it, making it crackle. It worked, thankfully, and she ended up sharing her toast with Ella before they went to find the others.
They were in the kitchen, the women chatting at the table while the younger children played on the floor and the two oldest, both girls, sat quietly reading at the table.
‘Amy, hi,’ Lydia said with a smile. ‘Have you had breakfast?’
‘Yes, thanks, we’re done. Leo said I should come and find you, if that’s OK?’
‘Of course it’s OK. Would you like a coffee?’
‘Oh, that would be lovely, if you’re having one. Thanks.’
‘I’m not, but it’s no problem to make you one. We’re all on fruit teas—caffeine and pregnancy doesn’t go well together,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Black, white, latte, cappuccino?’
They were all pregnant?
‘Um—cappuccino would be lovely. Thanks.’
‘I’m sorry, I’ll see you outside,’ Isabelle said, getting to her feet with a grimace. ‘I can’t stand the smell of it.’
‘No, don’t let me drive you out, I’ll have tea!’ she protested, but Isabelle laughed.
‘You’re fine. It’ll be OK outside and we were just going out there anyway. Max, Annamaria, come on.’
They all went, leaving Amy alone with Lydia while she made the coffee, and Amy took it with a rueful grimace.
‘I really wouldn’t have had one if I’d known. I feel so guilty.’
‘Oh, don’t,’ Lydia said with a laugh. ‘We’re used to it, and the men still drink coffee. They just do it elsewhere. One of us always seems to be pregnant and they’re well trained.’
That made her smile. She couldn’t imagine anything making Leo give up coffee. ‘So, is this your fifth baby, or have I lost count?’ she asked as they headed for the doors.
‘Gosh, no! It’s only my second. Massimo was widowed just after Antonino was born,’ she explained, ‘and I didn’t know when we met if he’d want any more, but he just loves children, so this is our second, which will be his fifth, and Anita’s on her second, and it’s Isabelle’s third—her husband’s an obstetrician, which is quite handy.’
‘Keeping it in the family?’
She chuckled. ‘Something like that,’ she said and led Amy outside onto the terrace. It seemed to wrap all around the outside of the house, giving stunning views over the surrounding countryside, and Amy was blown away by it.
They settled in the shade of a pergola draped with sweetly scented jasmine, and she cradled her cup and stared out over the beautiful valley below them, taking the time to soak up the scents and sounds that drifted around them on the air.
‘Gosh, it’s so beautiful here, I could take a lot of this,’ she murmured. ‘And the palazzo is absolutely fabulous.’
‘Not when you have to clean it,’ Lydia said with a laugh, ‘but at least we have some help. And, yes, of course it’s beautiful. We all feel very privileged to be guardians of it for future generations.’
‘Well, there’ll be no shortage of them,’ she said with a smile. ‘Would you mind if I took some photos of it? Leo’s asked me to take some for his blog while we’re in Italy, and this would be fantastic. We’d let you vet them first, of course.’
‘Of course we wouldn’t mind,’ Lydia said. ‘I’m sure the guys would be thrilled if it appeared in his blog. Just make sure he gives us a plug!’
‘Oh, I’m sure he will. I haven’t seen him look as fired up and enthusiastic as this in ages. Not that I’m surprised. It’s just amazing here.’
‘It is,’ Isabelle agreed softly. ‘It’s a wonderful place to live, and it really doesn’t take very long to fly home, which is great for keeping in touch with our families. Well, you know how long it takes, you’ve just done it.’
‘Yes, but it doesn’t really count. Our trip was ridiculously easy because Leo wangled a private charter from City Airport—’
‘No!’ Lydia said, laughing. ‘Really? That’s where I met Massimo! I was in a truly awful wedding dress, trying to blag a flight to Italy for a runaway bride competition—’
Amy sucked in her breath sharply, and Lydia stopped and frowned at her, her expression appalled. ‘Amy—what did I say?’
She laughed. She had to laugh, there was nothing else to do really under the circumstances apart from cry, and she’d done enough of that. Time to introduce the elephant.
She gave them a brief précis of her impulsive actions, and Isabelle reached out and rested a hand lightly on her arm, her eyes searching. ‘Oh, Amy. Are you sure you’re all right?’
‘Yes, of course I am,’ she said lightly. ‘Or I will be once the dust has settled.’
‘Much more all right than if you’d married the wrong man,’ Anita put in wryly. ‘I wish more people had the sense to pull out instead of making each other miserable and putting their children through hell.’
Just as she and Nick might have done. She felt sick, thinking how close she’d come to it, how devastating it would have been for all of them.
Then Ella toppled over trying to pull herself up, which gave Amy the perfect excuse to leave the conversation for a moment and regroup. Not that the women had been anything other than kindness itself, but she just didn’t want to talk about her not-quite wedding or their relentlessly burgeoning happy families. The full extent of what she’d turned her back on was still sinking in, but, although the shock was receding, in its place was a terrifying emptiness that she wasn’t ready to explore.
Was Nick feeling the same sense of loss? Maybe. Or maybe not. He’d asked if she minded if he went on their honeymoon alone, and of course she’d said no, but she wondered now if it was a good idea for him or if it would just be making it worse.
Not that it could be much worse than her running full tilt down the aisle away from him. God, the humiliation!
She groaned quietly, and Lydia shot her a thoughtful look and got to her feet.
‘I need to make lunch. Are you two staying or going?’
‘We’re going,’ Isabelle said briskly, standing up too. ‘Anita and I are going to plan a shopping trip for baby stuff.’
Best Friend to Wife and Mother? Page 6
