by Susan Meier
He turned his head and studied her. “You’re not?”
“I haven’t yet told them I’m pregnant.” She shrugged. “I’m afraid of their reaction. I don’t think you and Constanzo hold important things back. Even if you do sometimes get loud when you talk.”
Antonio’s eyes softened. “Have you even called your parents?”
Knowing the distraction of a different topic might be good for him, she said, “Yes. Once. I let them know I was here in Italy.”
“Why haven’t you told them?”
“I guess deep down I’m afraid of what they’ll say. They’d wanted me to become a doctor or a lawyer and start a practice in our small town.” She sighed. “But I wanted something more.”
“Something more?”
Knowing she was doing a good job of keeping Antonio occupied, she decided to be honest, to continue the conversation that held his nerves at bay. “That’s the bad part. I couldn’t even give them a description of what I wanted. All I could tell them was I had this feeling in my soul that I was meant to do something wonderful with my life.”
He winced. “But you couldn’t tell them what.”
“No. And now I’m returning educated but not employable.” She shook her head.
“Hey, Olivia says Tucker has a job for you.”
“But what if he doesn’t? There aren’t a lot of jobs for IT people in Starlight, Kentucky. So I’ll end up being somebody’s glorified secretary. I’ll be coming back a failure and pregnant.”
His gaze slowly met hers. “Some people would consider a child a blessing.”
She swallowed. Caught in the fierce light in his dark eyes, she could almost read his thoughts. He had lost a child because his wife hadn’t thought beyond her own needs. Antonio himself was born to an unmarried mother, the product of the same kind of mistake Laura Beth had made. It was important that Antonio know she did not consider her baby a mistake.
“My child is a blessing. I don’t know why I got pregnant, but I believe in destiny. This little boy or girl has a purpose.”
“What if his or her purpose is only to sweep streets?”
She laughed. “Destiny is about more than a job.”
“You should tell that to yourself some time.”
She frowned.
“You’re so concerned that without a law degree or medical license your parents will consider you’re a failure. What if your destiny is to be the mother of the surgeon who makes the next great medical advancement or the architect who builds the next Sistine Chapel? What if your destiny is simply to be this child’s mom?”
As she thought about that, a smile bloomed. “I get it.”
“And even if his destiny isn’t to be great—even if his destiny is to sweep streets—he’s still important.”
She squeezed Antonio’s hand. “I know. All along there’s been something inside me that happily responded to the idea of raising a child. I won’t let him down.”
Antonio ran his free hand down his face again. Though the conversation had distracted him for a few minutes, his nervousness had returned.
A doctor in green scrubs walked to the nurse’s station. The same nurse who’d relegated Antonio to a plastic seat pointed at him again. The doctor walked over.
Still clinging to Laura Beth’s hand, Antonio rose.
The doctor began to speak in Italian. Antonio quickly cut him off. “English for my friend?”
The doctor nodded. “My English not perfect.” He smiled at Laura Beth. “But good enough. Your father’s heart attack was mild, but we’ll be running some tests. If all goes well, in a few days he will go home with medicine.”
“If all doesn’t go well?”
“Probably a bypass.” The doctor smiled. “And a diet.”
Antonio shook his head. He said, “Lucky old coot,” but Laura Beth could feel the tension draining from him. “Can we see him?”
Making some notes on a chart, the doctor said, “Yes. I’m sure it will be a few minutes before he’s wheeled out for testing.”
Laura Beth and Antonio walked to Constanzo’s cubicle hand in hand. Even before they reached it, they could hear the rumble of Constanzo’s deep voice as he barked out complaints that his bed was too hard and he wanted a sandwich.
Pushing open the privacy curtain, Antonio said, “Too many sandwiches are what got you here.”
As if glad for the reprieve, the nurses scrambled out of the cubicle.
Constanzo’s eyes lit. “Laura Beth,” he said, turning his pleading gaze on her, “I almost died. Tell my son to be kind to me.”
She laughed, but the oddest feelings poured through her. In what should be a very private moment between a father and son, she didn’t feel out of place. In fact, she felt as if she belonged here. But more than that, it felt right, perfect, that Antonio held her hand. Turned to her for comfort. Gave her advice when she tried to distract him. Liked her.
Her heart stumbled a bit as he released her hand and walked to the head of Constanzo’s bed. Even though neither of them had said it, she and Antonio loved each other. Not in the way they’d loved Bruce or Gisella. But in a deep, profound way.
She was the real love of his life and he was hers.
And as soon as Constanzo was better, she would prove it to him.
* * *
With Constanzo safe in the hospital, his private doctors on the scene and a battery of tests ordered, Antonio’s stress level fell. By the time they left the hospital, the sun had set. The air had cooled, but not so much that they had to put the Lamborghini’s top up. He and Laura Beth didn’t talk, but they didn’t need to. She’d pushed him to tell the truth about Gisella and he’d forced her to admit why she’d really run to Italy. She might want to return to Starlight to raise her child, but she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation she had to have with her parents. She didn’t want to return to her hometown a failure.
Still, they were both on the road to recovery in their respective life crises. Now they could get on with their lives.
Already he felt strong again. Having learned his lessons about weakness, about letting anyone get too close, he’d never go through that kind of pain again. Just as Laura Beth would never again let herself be taken in by a man. She’d raise her child in her hometown and be happy.
He could picture it. He could see her in a big house with a homey kitchen and a yard full of green grass for a growing child. He smiled at the vision, but his smile quickly faded. He should have a three-year-old right now. A toddler to teach and dote on. Someone to make Constanzo smile. Someone who might grow up to be a garbageman or doctor. It wouldn’t matter. He would have been Antonio’s heart.
The Lamborghini roared up the driveway and, filled with indescribable pain, Antonio drove it into the garage. He and Laura Beth piled out unceremoniously. Though it was late, Rosina met them at the door to the kitchen.
“How is Mr. Constanzo?”
“He’s fine.”
Antonio’s usually calm and collected housekeeper all but collapsed with relief.
His eyes narrowed as he directed her back into the kitchen. Her reaction had been more than a little extreme and he almost cursed the stupidity, the fruitlessness of his life. Servants who got involved in their lives like family—because they saw more of their household staff than the real world. Money. Talent. Fame. None of it mattered! He wanted his child.
“I will make sandwiches and you will tell me everything?”
He almost told her he wasn’t hungry. He wanted to be alone. To lick his wounds. To roar with anger. But a glance at Laura Beth reminded him he had responsibilities. Not just to feed his probably starving guest, but to his staff. Rosina wanted information. He needed to give it to her.
“Sandwiches would be good.”
Laura Beth took the stool beside h
is at the center island. As Rosina cut bread and assembled cold cuts, they told her everything the doctors had said. Reassured, and her job done, Rosina shuffled off to her quarters behind the kitchen.
“She likes him.”
Antonio glanced over at her. “Really?”
“When your dad came to the house the night he and I flew to Barcelona, I saw looks pass between them. I got the distinct impression she’d called him and told him I was bored with nothing to do. Now I wonder if it isn’t more than that.”
“So all this time I thought my dad was a meddler, I actually have two meddlers in my life?”
She playfully swatted his arm. “You’re missing the big picture. I think your head housekeeper is in love with your dad!”
He shook his head. “Poor Rosina.”
“Why? Your dad is great. I think he and Rosina would make a cute couple.”
“I think she’s wishing on a star if she thinks that’s ever going to happen.”
* * *
His negativity surprised Laura Beth. When she peeked over at him, she saw something in his eyes she’d never seen before. She’d always known he was wounded. She’d believed the loss of his beloved wife had leveled him. Now she knew it was more than that. That he’d fallen out of love with his wife long before her death, when he’d lost a child. And something about this situation seemed to be bringing it all back for him.
Carefully, quietly, she said, “He wouldn’t want anything to do with her because of her class? Because she’s the maid?”
“Because he’s in his seventies and he’s never even slowed down, let alone settled down. The one woman who might have caught him with her pregnancy—with me—he summarily dismissed from his life. If she’s in love with him, Rosina will get her heart broken, because my dad can’t settle down.”
She tried to make the connection. Was there something about Constanzo deserting Antonio’s mom and the loss of Antonio’s own child that connected? What could have made him so angry?
They finished their sandwiches and a hush fell over the kitchen. Her mind skipped back to the studio, to how they’d been kissing when Antonio got the call. With Constanzo in no real danger, would they pick up where they’d left off?
Antonio caught her hand. “You must be tired.”
She swallowed. “Truthfully, I haven’t had enough time to think about it today.”
Their gazes met. He smiled and she could almost hear the question he wanted to ask. Will you come to my room with me? They’d been on the verge of making love and everything inside her wanted to go with him, to give herself to him, to take away his pain.
She waited for him to ask the question.
His eyes darkened as he studied her face.
The urge rose up to bridge the gap between them and kiss him. To make the first move.
But that silly shy fear of hers filled her. She needed to know—it had to be clear that he wanted her.
He released her fingers and pulled back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Confusion filled her. For all the times and ways he’d confided, telling her what troubled him tonight should be easy. They should be heading for his room together, talking things out, making love. Instead, he was walking away.
He stopped at the kitchen door and faced her. “With Constanzo having tests in the morning, maybe we could get in a few hours in the studio before we go to the hospital?”
The studio. She’d gotten him to tell her about his wife in the studio. Whatever the cause of this new sadness, she could get it out of him tomorrow.
* * *
They ate breakfast quietly. Clearly believing his father was in good hands, Antonio ate toast while reading the paper. Laura Beth took slow, measured breaths. He wasn’t upset this morning. But his dad had also had a heart attack the day before. Maybe the sadness she was so sure she’d seen while they’d eaten sandwiches had been nothing more than sadness over nearly losing Constanzo? Maybe she’d made a mountain out of a molehill?
She slipped away while he finished his second cup of coffee and raced upstairs to slip into the black dress and spike heels. The dining room was empty when she returned, so she headed for the studio.
She found him assembling brushes and paints and simply headed for the chaise.
“Ready?” He peeked from behind the canvas and laughed. “Ah. Not just ready, ahead of me.”
She smiled, but her lips wobbled. Something about the mood in the room didn’t feel right. How could he have been so utterly sad the day before and be almost happy today?
“Is that bad?”
“I like eagerness in a woman.”
He was trying to sound light and flippant, but having spent so much time with him Laura Beth noticed the strain in his voice. Her fears came crashing back. As any child would, he’d been upset about his father the day before, but something else had happened.
“Could you straighten the fabric at your back? There’s a kink I don’t like.”
She nodded and reached behind her to find the unwanted fold in her dress, but couldn’t reach it.
“Here. Let me.”
He walked over. As he pushed her long hair out of the way, she could feel his fingers skim across her back. She drew in a quick breath. Pinpricks of excitement danced along her flesh.
Looking over her shoulder at him, she raised her eyes to meet his and his fingers stopped as their gazes met.
“You’re very beautiful.”
And here it was. The real truth between them. He found her beautiful. He saw her in a way no man ever had. And it didn’t just thrill her. It seemed to set her free. To turn her into the woman she wanted to be.
“You’re very handsome.”
His fingers moved from the fabric and traced a line up her shoulder. Warm and sure, his hand flattened on her back as the other went to her waist to turn her to him.
Neither waited for the other to move. His head came down as she rose up a bit to meet him and their lips met in a reunion of delicious passion. Wave after wave of heavenly delight flooded her as their kiss went on and on.
When she would have thought he’d move away, he caught her by the shoulders and deepened the kiss. She met his fierce kiss with her own fierceness. When he pulled back, his mouth fell to her neck, skimming wet kisses along the line of her collarbone.
She shuddered as her eyes closed in ecstasy. “I love you.”
The words came out naturally, easily. Still, she wasn’t surprised when he stopped kissing her. This was momentous for them. They might have been tumbling to this point for weeks, but neither had ever said the words. She opened her eyes and smiled expectantly. But instead of the sheen of passion or the warmth of love, pain filled his eyes.
He gazed at her longingly, as if she held the secrets to his happiness, but he said, “I don’t love you.”
For thirty seconds, her ears rang with the silence, then as the reality of what he’d said sank in, her heart exploded in her chest. An indescribable ache radiated to every part of her body. The words I don’t believe you sprang to her tongue, but she cursed them. When would she ever learn she was Laura Beth Matthews, simple girl? Not glamour girl like Eloise or earth mother like Olivia. But plain Laura Beth Matthews, IT person who couldn’t find a job, and who was never going to be loved with passion.
She pulled away from him. “I see.”
“I don’t think you do.”
He reached for her but she shook him off. Thank God for good, old-fashioned American pride. Her chin lifted. Her thoughts cleared.
“I understand very well.” She caught his gaze, working to hide the pain that sliced through her, cutting her to the core, making her feel like the world’s biggest idiot. “A lot more than you think.” She drew in a calming breath, telling herself she could scream or cry or whatever she wanted to do as soo
n as he was gone. But right now she had to get him away from her. “Go see your father.”
He stepped back. Confusion clouded his dark brown eyes.
So she smiled. Though it physically hurt to force her lips upward and to hold back her tears, she managed because she refused, absolutely refused to look like a fool in front of another man. “I think we both need a little time to cool off before we get back to the painting, and your dad’s going to be griping at the nurses.” She studied the lines of his aristocratic face, the wild black hair, the set of his jaw. He would say she was memorizing him, and maybe she was. Because she knew this would be the last time she saw him.
The pain of that sliced through her, but she ignored it. She took another step back. “You better go rescue them.”
He ran his hand along the back of his neck as if confused. “What are we doing?”
She had no idea what he was doing, but she was leaving. He was a brilliant but broken man, and she’d walked right into the trap of loving him, thinking she could help him when clearly she couldn’t.
“We need a cooling-off period and you should be checking up on your dad.” She lifted her chin again and smiled shakily. “I need some time.”
“I’m sorry—”
She cut him off. “Don’t make this any weirder than it already is. I’m fine. I misinterpreted what was going on between us.” She shrugged. “It happens all the time. No big deal. I just need a break. And you going to see your dad is the best way for me to get myself together.”
* * *
Antonio’s heart seized at the loss of her as she stormed out of the studio, but he let her go. Because it was for her good. He was an angry, bitter man, mourning the loss not of a deceitful wife but a child. And she was a naive young pregnant woman who’d already gotten involved with the wrong man once.
He wouldn’t tie her to him, but more than that, he wouldn’t taint the experience of her first child with his wounds, his regrets.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LAURA BETH CALLED Bernice and within an hour Constanzo’s plane was ready for her at the private airstrip. She climbed the steps. At the top she paused, taking one final look at the beautiful Italian countryside.
