The Proud Italian

by Alison Roberts

  Abbie was caught. Half lying in the reclining chair, it would take a huge effort to get up and leave father and daughter alone and it would only disturb the moment. Or maybe that was just an excuse. Maybe what had really captured her was the acute awareness of this man beside her.

  The…longing.

  He must have come straight from a shower because his dark curls were damp and she could actually feel the warmth coming from his skin. Could smell the fresh scent of soap and maleness. Abbie’s gaze was locked on Rafael’s hands as he held Ella. Such strong hands with those long, long fingers and the dusting of dark hair on the top. It had been his hands that had first stirred her attraction to him, hadn’t it? When he’d been waving them in the air to illustrate something he had been telling her about a case. Or had it been his eyes? The way they could hold her like a physical caress?

  What would happen if she reached out and touched one of those hands now? If, when he looked up at her, she gave him the silent message that she’d been wrong. That being together again in the most intimate way possible could be the answer to dissolving the barrier between them?

  It had always worked in the past to solve an argument, hadn’t it?

  ‘Do you remember the couch?’ The soft words seemed to come from nowhere and Abbie was as surprised as Rafael as his head jerked up.

  ‘Scusi?’

  ‘The couch. The white one.’

  The supremely comfortable, feather-stuffed, totally impractical and ridiculously expensive white couch. It had been the week before their wedding and they’d been out shopping for furniture in the euphoria that had followed a successful offer on their new apartment. The same euphoria that had made them view Abbie’s unexpected pregnancy as nothing more than a sign that they were meant to be together. For ever.

  ‘Of course I remember. I sit on it every day.’

  ‘Do you remember what happened when we found it in the shop?’

  Rafael seemed to be ignoring her. He rocked Ella and pressed a gentle kiss to her head. And then he sighed and gave one of those eloquent shrugs.

  ‘So it was our first fight. What of it? What is the point of remembering it now?

  ‘Because…’

  Because it was important, even though Abbie wasn’t quite sure why.

  ‘Do you remember what you told me? About your parents? About them never arguing?’

  ‘It was true. They didn’t.’

  ‘Because your mother did whatever your father ordered to keep the peace. You said it was the Italian way and the husband was the head of the household and his word was law and arguing was a sign of disrespect. And I said it was the Victorian way and it wasn’t going to work for us because I deserved just as much respect, and if it dented your Italian pride then you’d have to suck it up and get over it.’

  A snort escaped Rafael. ‘I remember. How could I forget?’

  ‘And what did you do then?’

  Something rueful tugged at one corner of his mouth. ‘I gave you an order.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  He had ‘ordered’ her into bed. It had been a joke, accompanied by a kiss that had demonstrated the kind of passion Abbie knew would take her straight to paradise. The argument about the couch had suddenly become irrelevant and Rafael’s pride had been soothed.

  And they’d bought the damned couch. A week after it had been installed in the apartment Rafael had spilt a glass of red wine on it and the ugly stain was irreparable. Abbie had gone out and purchased a large, blue throw to cover it. A throw in the colour of the couch she had wanted to buy in the first place.

  ‘It was a couch,’ Rafael growled. ‘A stupid piece of furniture. We could buy another one tomorrow if it mattered.’

  ‘It’s not the couch that matters.’

  Abbie suddenly realised why she’d dredged up such an ancient disagreement. The reason they’d fought in the first place had just been a practice run for the fight they would have over Ella’s treatment. Rafael’s pride getting in the way of any kind of compromise had led to the awful ultimatum about the future of their marriage. ‘It’s the way we resolved the fight we had about the couch.’

  Rafael’s glare told Abbie just how much she had hurt him yesterday. But there was something else there, too. Confusion? That was understandable.

  ‘The stain’s still there, Rafe,’ Abbie said softly. ‘It just got covered up.’

  He shook his head and muttered something incomprehensible in Italian.

  ‘The reason we fought is still there, too. We never talked about it again, did we? We never tried to resolve anything by talking about it. We just…went to bed.’

  ‘And it worked,’ Rafael said fiercely. ‘It was where we could show each other how much we loved each other.’

  ‘It didn’t work when it was really important. When it was about Ella.’

  Rafael was silent. He looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. Abbie could only watch and wait. And hope, desperately, that she had managed to convey at least a part of how important this seemed to her.

  But maybe she hadn’t.

  ‘It’s time Fiorella was in her bed.’ Rafael stood up, careful not to disturb Ella. He carried her to the cot and put her down, checking that her IV line and the pump attached to it was still intact and functioning. He tucked Ears in the crook of one arm and then drew the blanket over the small body. Then he reached to pick up the oversized bear at the foot of the cot.

  ‘Don’t take it out,’ Abbie said. ‘She’ll cry if it’s not there when she wakes up.’

  Rafael looked over at her, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘She adores it. Especially the sparkles.’

  Abbie smiled. Rafael smiled back at her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said then.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Talking to me.’ If nothing else, Abbie was beginning to see what the real barrier between them was. It had been there all along, hadn’t it? They just hadn’t paid any attention to it until it had been too late.

  She saw Rafael taking a slow, inward breath. He held her gaze. ‘Maybe,’ he said slowly, ‘we should talk some more.’ A corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Instead of going to bed?’

  Abbie tried to smile but her lips wobbled. ‘I’d like that.’

  Rafael stepped closer. ‘I could take you out. For dinner…or a coffee. We…we could go to that place you love in the park. The…what’s it called? The Moo Cow?’

  They’d been around a baby for long enough to change the way they thought and spoke, hadn’t they? Abbie smiled again. ‘The Cow and Coffee Bean.’

  In Regent’s Park. The buffer between their home and the clinic, it had always been perfect as an escape for some exercise and fresh air.

  ‘Like…like a date?’

  He inclined his head. ‘Si. Like a date.’

  Like starting again, even? Maybe this was exactly what they needed. Swept along in the whirlwind of passion that had defined their early relationship and both so committed to their careers, had they ever stayed out of bed long enough when they’d been together to really get to know each other?

  She could smile now. ‘I’d love that, Rafe. Coffee. And a walk. It would be perfect.’

  Perfect for what? A first date? A new beginning?

  ‘It’s Saturday tomorrow. I’m sure we can both find a suitable time to be together.’

  Abbie held his gaze. Was it too much to hope that that was what they both wanted out of this? To be really together again?

  ‘I’m sure we can.’

  His nod was satisfied. Rafael touched his fingers to the top of Ella’s head in farewell and then stepped away from the cot. For a heartbeat he looked as if he was going to step towards Abbie’s chair. As if he wanted to kiss her goodnight. But she could see the way he paused just long enough to think about it and then controlled himself. How hard he was trying when he simply smiled and left.

  Fickle spring weather decided to turn on a stunning April day on Saturday.

  It felt as though fate was on his sid
e as Rafael waited at the agreed meeting point at the start of the Broad Walk, just beside the zoo. The shriek of overexcited monkeys somewhere was having the opposite effect, however. Almost like maniacal laughter that was taunting him and setting his nerves on edge.

  Did he really think that a pleasant walk on a sunny day was going to be enough to win Abbie back?

  And what were they going to talk about? Dio… but women loved to talk, didn’t they? To pick things apart and give them far more importance than they deserved to have. Far more power that could be so destructive.

  Even a few words could destroy things. And once they were uttered there was no way you could ever take them back.

  If you take Ella away to do this then our marriage is over.

  Rafael pushed his fingers through his hair. He wished he had never uttered those fateful words. He wished Abbie had just let him take her to bed where he knew he could have put things right. He wished those damned monkeys would just shut up for a minute. Why wasn’t Abbie here yet? Had she changed her mind about this date?

  His breath came out in a whoosh of relief as a black cab swooped into the kerb and Abbie climbed out. She was wearing a blue dress he’d never seen before, with no sleeves and a tight bodice and a swirling skirt that reached almost to her ankles above sandal-clad feet. Her hair was loose and shone like a halo in the sunshine and she had a cardigan draped over the arm that held a straw bag and made it look as if she was off to a picnic.

  She looked…like the woman he loved. A beautiful, English rose. With that illusion of fragility that was so sexy when you discovered the steely determination and passion that lay beneath.

  ‘Abbie…salve, cara. You look cosi bella.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Abbie felt strangely shy. As if this really was a ‘date.’ A time to meet someone who was virtually a stranger to explore what you had in common with them and whether it might be enough to build a future on together. The mix of hope, excitement and physical attraction felt like a flock of butterflies in her stomach. She hadn’t felt like this since…well, since her first date with Rafael.

  ‘You…look pretty good yourself, Rafe.’

  What an understatement. Old, soft, faded jeans and a black T-shirt. That leather jacket that was also so old it was nearly as soft as the jeans. Rafael pushed the sleeves up a little further, which made his look more casual. And definitely sexier. But his expression dismissed the compliment.

  ‘In these old jeans? I think not.’

  Rafael suppressed the urge to take Abbie’s hand but couldn’t identify what it was that held him back. A sense of Abbie being as tense as he was perhaps?

  ‘Let’s get away from here,’ he said. ‘These monkeys are driving me pazzo.’

  Abbie’s laugh sounded a little forced to her own ears but some of the tension evaporated. ‘They are noisy today, aren’t they? Can you still hear them from home sometimes?’

  She could remember the first time they’d heard unusual sounds coming from the direction of the zoo. Guessing what could be making the sound had become a game as they’d stood in their garden or taken an evening walk down by the canal. Was that an elephant? Or a lion?

  Sometimes Rafael would try and imitate the sound until Abbie laughed so hard he would pretend to take great offence and she’d have to soothe his pride. And that had never been difficult. She only had to tell him how wonderful she thought he was, even if he couldn’t make an elephant noise to save himself. She only had to distract him with a kiss or two.

  Happy times.

  For a moment, Abbie was sure Rafael was thinking about the same thing. But then a shadow passed over his face and he shrugged.

  ‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t seem to spend that much time there these days.’ Rafael could see the flash of disappointment in Abbie’s eyes. Had he made it sound like he didn’t want to be in their home any more? ‘Work’s been so busy, you know?’

  ‘Mmm. Ethan told me how hard you’ve been working while I was away.’

  While she’d been away. There it was again. The huge thing that lay between them that Rafael had no idea how to make go away. Was talking about it really going to help?

  They weren’t even talking now. Just walking side by side in silence amongst the throng of Londoners out to enjoy a Saturday afternoon in the sunshine. Trees were vibrant with the fresh, new green of leaves just beginning to unfurl for the new season. Ancient trunks had skirts of bluebells and daffodils. There were young mothers pushing prams, a father giving a toddler a ride on his shoulders, small children on bicycles and tricycles, teenagers weaving with dangerous speed through the pedestrians on their skateboards…

  ‘Mind out!’ Rafael’s arm was around Abbie’s shoulders in a flash, guiding her out of the path of a speeding youth. The feel of the bare skin of her shoulder beneath his hand was a jolt of sensation that arrowed through his entire body. Hastily, he dropped the contact. Abbie didn’t want this, did she?

  Oddly, the touch of Rafael’s hand on her bare shoulder had felt less intimate than his automatic instinct to protect her. And it had felt…wonderful. She might have had to stand completely on her own feet for the last few months and become stronger because of it but it didn’t mean that she didn’t want to feel cherished.

  Loved.

  The speed with which he dropped the contact was disappointing. Abbie bit her lip, trying to think of something to say.

  ‘Do you think it will be this crowded in the coffee shop?’

  ‘I expect so.’ Rafael could feel himself scowling. If they couldn’t talk to each other in the relative privacy of being outside, what was it going to be like in the café? Would they sit in silence and sip their lattes amidst the buzz of the conversation of others? With the tension between them steadily increasing?

  ‘I know.’ Abbie tilted her head, peering past people to see where they were exactly. ‘Let’s get coffee to go from the cart over there and take it to the Secret Garden. That’s always quieter.’

  It didn’t take long because they knew the route so well. Off the Inner Circle and through the large circular garden with the statue of Hylas in the pond. You could see the imposing structure of St John’s Lodge from here, reputedly owned by the Sultan of Brunei these days. But they weren’t after an imposing view.

  Rafael led the way on a wide grass path, past the blossoms of the dog roses and the twisted trees of white wisteria. Beneath a leafy arbour to the circle of lime trees around a stone urn. And…yes…the covered seat at one end of the garden was unoccupied at the moment.

  For a moment, Abbie lost all sense of time. She wasn’t here with her estranged husband, trying to find a way to reconnect. She was here with the man she was head over heels in love with. Wondering why he was leading to her such a secluded, romantic spot. Why the destination seemed so important, the mission so urgent.

  And then the reality of the difference this time kicked in and Abbie’s step faltered. It was an audible effort to catch her breath.

  Rafael almost groaned aloud when he sensed Abbie’s step faltering. What had he been thinking in following this particular route? He had led Abbie back to the exact spot he’d proposed to her.

  Closing his eyes for a heartbeat, Rafael cursed himself for his insensitivity and wondered how he could rescue the situation, but then he heard Abbie take a deep breath.

  ‘Perfect,’ she murmured.

  Rafael’s eyes flew open. ‘It is?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Abbie offered him a smile that was almost shy. ‘If we’re going to start again, what better place than back where it all started?’

  They were going to start again? There was hope? And he’d chosen the perfect place? Rafael could feel his chest expand just a little. This time he didn’t suppress the urge to take Abbie’s hand and he didn’t let go until they were seated side by side on the small bench. They could see people through the arbour but, for the moment, they had this small patch of the park to themselves.

  ‘So…’ Rafael cleared his throat. He was ready to f
ace whatever was coming even if his heart did seem to be beating faster than usual. ‘What shall we talk about?’

  Abbie closed her eyes for a moment. What did he think they needed to talk about? The weather? The thought almost made her smile because that was exactly what they’d talked about the last time they’d sat on this bench. They’d actually had to brush snow away before they’d sat down and she’d been freezing and Rafael had opened his coat and tucked her in beside him. He wanted to keep her warm, he’d said. To look after her. For ever.

  She opened her eyes but didn’t look up at Rafael.

  ‘Us,’ she said quietly. ‘That’s what we need to talk about.’

  Oh, no… Rafael drained the last of his coffee. This was worse than he’d feared. Abbie wanted to analyse their relationship and pick it apart. His voice came out more harshly than he had intended. ‘What about us?’

  Abbie met his gaze. There was a tiny frown line above her eyes. ‘Well…we don’t really know each other, do we?’

  ‘Pfff…’ Rafael couldn’t help the incredulous sound. Or the movement of his hands, one of which slashed through the air while the other crushed the empty paper cup it was holding and dropped it on the bench beside him. It was an effort not to jump to his feet as the words tried to rush past each other to get out.

  ‘Of course we know each other. We’re married. We…’ Love each other? No. He couldn’t speak for Abbie. He changed tack. ‘I know you, Abbie. I know that you like two sugars in your coffee. That you hate lacy knickers because they make you itch. That people who hurt their children make you very, very angry.’ He was counting off his list on his fingers. ‘That one of your favourite surgeries is making new little ears for children. That—’

  But Abbie was shaking her head as she set her own cup carefully aside. ‘I mean something that goes deeper than that. You don’t know why I did what I did. Why I had to take Ella to New York even if it was going to mean the end of the marriage that meant so much to me.’