Breathe

by Donna Alward

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she continued. “We seem to have made ourselves quite at home.”

  “That was the intent, wasn’t it?” He let a smile touch his lips, knowing they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. Her answering smile was tentative, and her eyes fell on her son.

  He turned his attention to Matteo, who was watching him with openly hostile eyes. The boy was playing with a rudimentary wooden car, one Jace had made with his father when he’d been a boy and that now had a position of honor in one of the guest rooms. It was more for decoration than function these days, but he didn’t have the heart to take it away from Matteo. The boy had lost enough.

  “You found my car. Do you like it?”

  “You can have it back. I wasn’t going to hurt it.”

  He went over to Matteo. The boy was just old enough to understand what had happened with his father and far too young to be able to put it in perspective. Jace squatted down in front of Matteo and tried a smile. “I made this with my dad many years ago.”

  “You still have toys?”

  He gave Matteo a conspiratorial wink. Of course he did, only his toys now were of the faster, more expensive variety. “Certainly. You’re never too old for toys.”

  Matteo blinked a few times. “My papa’s dead. But I like my Nonno Roberto. He doesn’t yell at me.”

  Jace’s heart clubbed. It was all so matter of fact, and very telling. Lord, if the judgmental Roberto Morelli was being held up as an example of kindness, Stefano must have been a piece of work. What kind of life had Anna had with Stefano? And the children? Had he been a good father? Guilt piled upon guilt as Jace realized he should know the answers. If he’d been the kind of friend he should have, he would have known.

  “There is a chest of toys in your room, Matteo. We will get them out of the closet. You are free to use them all.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jace smiled. With the blessing to use the toys, Matteo had lost the edge of reserve he’d been clinging to since getting out of the car, a demeanor that had seemed out of place in a boy so young.

  The boy took the car and went through the door to his own room. Jace saw him take the car up onto the bed. Small boys who were yelled at. His stomach clenched. He’d had a poor childhood, but his parents had never been cruel, even when life had been cruel to them. He hoped Stefano had never been cruel to Matteo, or to Anna. Jace had enough to feel guilty about without bearing that burden as well.

  He stood again and turned to face Anna. Her face was solemn, her eyes wide. There were shadows in the depths and he wondered what had put them there. It seemed her husband’s death had affected her profoundly. She was not the same vibrant woman he remembered. Children and widowhood could do that to a woman, he supposed. Had Stefano’s death broken her heart?

  A large tear glimmered on the baby’s cheek as Anna held her in her arms. What he wanted to say and what he could say were two very different things. Saying what he thought now wouldn’t help. In fact, he highly doubted he had any right to say anything at all.

  “Let me know if you need anything more. I’ll go downstairs and make us some dinner.”

  She tried a smile, but he saw the sadness behind it and fought the urge to reach out and gather her in his arms and tell her it was okay. He’d lost the right to be her defender and protector a long time ago.

  “Thank you, Jace. We’re very grateful for your kindness.”

  Kindness? The last thing he’d ever been was kind. He put his hands in his pockets and excused himself. And got out while he still could.

  Chapter Two

  Anna took the nipple of the bottle out of Aurelia’s slack mouth. She’d fallen asleep feeding. A tiny dribble caught at the corner of her lips and Anna affectionately touched it with her finger. She’d missed out on these moments so much when Matteo had been small, and even for the first six months of Aurelia’s life. She’d let Stefano steamroll her into getting a nanny so she could continue being the dutiful wife, moving in the right social circles and going back to work at Morelli’s marketing department when both children had been only weeks old. He’d insisted it was expected, but she had always felt it was wrong.

  Those days were gone now. She wanted to be a better mother. She wanted to be the one they looked to and depended upon. One of her biggest regrets was how she’d spent so much time away from them, leaving their care to someone else. No matter how trusted that person had been. Thinking of it now made her physically ill.

  And oh, she was tired. All the travel and taking them to a new place was confusing to the children, and she was rapidly beginning to realize that when their schedules were toyed with, things did not go well. She laid Aurelia gently in her playpen and covered her with a pale yellow coverlet the color of diluted sunshine and the inside of daffodils. Tiptoeing to the edge of the room, she looked in on Matteo. He’d been very quiet, and she smiled when she saw him also asleep on his bed, his hand on a stuffed giraffe.

  Her babies.

  She swallowed against tears. No, no more. She would not cry, not even when she was exhausted and at her wits’ end. She was done with crying. She’d done her share and was determined not to ever again. Her children deserved a happy mother, not one who leaked from her eyes at the drop of a hat. She’d made the decision to uproot them and leave the Morelli house, and she was convinced it had been the right move. She was beginning to realize there were things more important than giving them the privileges money could buy, and she couldn’t stand playing the grieving widow for another moment.

  She’d gone looking for a new start, a place to heal and begin again. Only four people that she was aware of knew the whole story—her father; her brother, Alessandro; his wife; and her former nanny. And that was how it would stay. She didn’t want Jace to know what a fool she’d been, how her silver-spoon life had turned into a clichéd joke.

  What she really wanted now was a glass of wine and something to eat. Something edible. Which meant she wouldn’t be making it because her cooking skills hadn’t yet caught up with her aspiring nurturing side. Their cook had shown her a few staple dishes, as had Jace’s mother, but her culinary expertise was limited to those select items. Her own mother had abandoned the family when she was young.

  She remembered how that felt, to lose a parent. Then she’d let Stefano neglect their children, and that knowledge kept her awake at night now. It was one of the reasons she was determined they never feel unloved ever again. She’d taken the gilded cage of marriage to Stefano when the life she’d wanted ceased to be a possibility. It had been a kneejerk reaction to a broken heart, nothing more. Her way of rebelling. Now she was paying the price. But her children never would. They were little and would forget all of this pain and uncertainty. She’d make sure of it. She had brains, means and the desire. She simply had to figure out what next.

  She left the doors to their rooms open so she could hear if either of them woke, and left to see if there was anything she could scrounge in the kitchen.

  At the bottom of the stairs she could hear movements from the front of the house, and she followed the noise and then her nose. Her stomach rumbled. She’d had a muffin in Kelowna several hours earlier, the bites fitted in between getting Matteo and Aurelia fed. But this didn’t smell like dried-out muffin. It smelled like garlic. And olive oil…and something spicy. Italiano.

  She paused inside the door.

  Jace had changed out of his dirty clothes into clean jeans and a white T-shirt. She watched as his strong, dark forearms flexed as he moved the knife, slicing mushrooms and brushing them into a bowl. Jace could cook. Imagine that.

  “What’s cooking?”

  He spun around, a supremely large knife in his hand. “You scared me.”

  “I’m the one who should be scared, by the size of that knife.”

  His lips turned up ever so slightly. “I thought you might be hungry. I know it’s early, but…”

  “But you’d be right. You don’t have to cook for us though. I can manage.”
r />   He turned back to his chopping board. “This might come as a surprise to you, but I like cooking.”

  “It does, actually.” Several years ago he’d resented having to do for himself. She’d seen beyond the chip on his shoulder and had loved him anyway. It seemed that perhaps in one way, he’d relaxed his notions a bit.

  He chopped more mushrooms, the rhythm of the knife firm and sure. “We didn’t all grow up with cooks and maids, Anna.”

  She snorted. “You don’t actually expect me to feel sorry for you, do you?” It was an old joke between them, the difference in their upbringings. And one made comfortably, as they each knew the other had valid claims to heartbreak.

  She saw his shoulders shake a little. “You’re right. That didn’t really work, did it? It never did.” He finished with the mushrooms and put down the knife. “The children are napping, I assume.”

  “Yes. Aurelia fell asleep having her bottle and Matteo was out with his arm around a giraffe.”

  “I’ll warn you right now, I’m not good with children.”

  She smiled a little in response to his frown, but the smile wobbled. A bittersweet pang darted through her and she wondered if he remembered the hurtful words he’d said to her that awful day. “Oh, I don’t know. You seemed to do all right once you stopped scowling at us. Toys on the premises go a long way.”

  She braved a look directly into his chocolate eyes. The past was over and done with. Why couldn’t they leave it there?

  “And I should say thank you for letting us come here unannounced. We won’t stay long, Jace.”

  “Why not Alessandro’s?” He was watching her too closely for her to be comfortable. “You and your brother were always close.”

  Yes, they had been. But she couldn’t talk to him about this. Part of it was wrapped up in Jace, and the few times she’d mentioned it, Alex had quickly changed the subject. “I felt like I would be in the way at his place, with Melissa expecting and his own business to run. And they are building a new house, you know.” Truth be told, it hurt to see their happiness, though she wouldn’t say so to Alex for the world.

  She halted. How did she explain what it had done to her to see her brother and Melissa? Only a few short months ago she’d been counseling him to get a move on and get married. About finding his happy ending. The ink had barely dried on their marriage certificate when her own perfect life had blown spectacularly apart.

  He seemed to accept what she was saying. He turned back to the stove, lifted the lid on a pot and stirred. The scent was enough to nearly make her lightheaded.

  “What are you making?”

  “Risotto. I thought you might appreciate an Italian influence tonight. There’s a deli down in the village that makes good sausage. Just the right spice.” He moved to the fridge and took out a plate. “Here. Snack on this. You look like you’re about to faint away.”

  The plate held an assortment of crackers, cheese and a bowl of olives in the center. Anna couldn’t help it. She reached out and picked up a piece of the cheese. It was delicious.

  “You made Italian?”

  He gave her a bland look. “I might have issues, but I have never denied that the Italians have spectacular food.”

  Her lips twitched. He’d spent many an hour in the Morelli kitchen to bear that out.

  “Besides, I spent a lot of time in your kitchen.” He echoed her thoughts. “I paid attention. There’s a cheese factory here too,” he continued, leaving the topic of Morelli behind. “Really amazing feta. That’s sun-dried tomato. I was pleasantly surprised to find it here.”

  Anna tried another sample, relieved he was keeping the topic to food and the local area. If he asked her anything personal now, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t fall apart.

  “Only one thing it’s missing,” she said softly.

  Jace left the stove and came to her. Her heart beat quickly as his body nearly pressed against hers. But he only reached around her for one of the wineglasses hanging behind her head. “Perish the thought,” he said in a low voice, and shivers erupted over her skin. “I opened a bottle already. One of Two Willows’s. Here.”

  He poured her glass half-full of ruby-red liquid and handed it to her. Her fingers brushed his as she took the goblet from his hands and the wine tilted in the glass. She closed her eyes and absorbed the rich scent before taking her first, full sip of Syrah. He waited until he saw her smile of gratification before answering it with a grin of his own, and his dimple popped. Just one, on the right. Her heart tripped.

  She was only reacting to Jace because her emotions were raw. And because it had suddenly occurred to her that she was staying with him without the buffer of Alessandro between them. So often it had been the three of them, all for one and one for all sort of thing. But Alex wasn’t here, and suddenly it felt very intimate. It harkened back to other days when Alessandro had been abroad, studying in Italy. That month had changed everything. It had just been her and Jace left to their own devices. And with Alex out of the way, their hearts had taken over.

  She stared into the swirling red liquid. “It’s lovely.”

  “Of course it is. It’s mine.”

  She smiled into her glass. Jace had worked hard, using his hands and smarts when he didn’t have money. He’d eventually taken over the vineyard from his mentor and had renamed it as an extension of his own surname, Two Willows. As long as she’d known him he’d been driven that way. Like he always had something to prove. She’d never understood it, not really. Not until now. Now she realized how awful it was to feel like you were not good enough. Jace had always felt that way.

  But that was as far as her understanding went. Anna knew something more. Success was all well and good. But she’d had it and it meant little to her now. What was important was doing right by her children. Life had suddenly become bigger. Broader, and more meaningful. And no money or accolades in the world could touch it.

  She watched as he stirred hot broth into the sausage and rice mixture. He then drizzled olive oil and garlic over the mushrooms, tossed them together and then poured them into a skillet. The scent was rich and intoxicating, the sizzle of the oil and garlic hot and potent. She would never have imagined Stefano cooking in the kitchen like this. He’d demanded a cook prepare all their meals and that they be served in their formal dining room. But Jace seemed very at home with a well-equipped kitchen. The range was state of the art, the cookware heavy and high quality. It was a working kitchen, not one just for show.

  No, Stefano had always taken everything like it was somehow due him. And so had she, to an extent. Being friends with Jace for most of her life had meant she’d at least realized the world didn’t always work that way.

  “Dare I ask about him?”

  “Who?”

  Jace moved to a cupboard and took out plates and cutlery. “Your husband,” he replied, the word snipped as though it were a bad berry needing to be spit out.

  “Ah, Stefano. I was hoping you wouldn’t get around to asking about him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He put down the dishes and stood with his arms folded. “Why did I have to hear it from business associates? You used to talk to me. And the news came and I heard it from my vintner. For God’s sake, I had to get the details from Alex.”

  She swallowed, feeling slightly ill. She knew it was just nerves from talking about how her life had changed. “I didn’t feel like talking to anyone, Jace. Father called Alessandro. I…” But she couldn’t go on.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  The taste of it was bitter. What would Jace think if he knew the truth? That she’d moved from loving him to being married to a man she could barely tolerate? He would hate her for sure, and she wanted to give herself a little bit of time before she had to find new accommodations. “Thank you.”

  His lips thinned, and for the second time she got a sense of the power behind his frame. Perhaps she hadn’t seen it before because she’d known him since he was a boy. But there was no denying it. He was an
gry, though she couldn’t quite figure out why, and it emanated from his six-foot-plus frame. All the time he’d spent hands-on in the vineyards obviously hadn’t hurt either. He was strong and sun-kissed, and for a brief second it was like standing before a stranger.

  A mushroom popped in the pan and their gazes broke. Jace went and turned off the burners and faced her again. The anger she’d sensed was replaced with a cool sense of resignation. That hurt more than his displeasure with her.

  “Was he good to you, Anna? It’s so sad that you’re left now, so young. And with the children.”

  She’d heard it enough over the last few months that the sting should have gone out of it. But it hadn’t. She didn’t wince though, didn’t allow herself the indulgence. This kind of misplaced pity was why she’d left Saanich and the Island in the first place.

  “Don’t pity me, please. I can’t stand it. I’ve had enough of pity. I need to look forward.”

  “Fair enough. What are your plans?”

  She had no idea. She would always have a place at Morelli, that much she knew. But she wasn’t sure she wanted it. She knew she had to make a good life for herself and the children, but she had no idea how to best go about it.

  “I don’t have any plans. I came here to just…get my feet beneath me. To think.”

  “To hide.”

  She blinked. Perhaps she should be angry, but it was the truth. “Yes, Jace—” she sighed, “—to hide. To evaluate and make decisions away from prying eyes and useless advice.”

  “I see.”

  So did she, too late. That he was coming to the conclusion that his advice was not wanted. And perhaps it wasn’t. His life was very different from hers. It was what he’d wanted, all this independence and success. He’d made the choice long ago, and to hell with the consequences. But it was the years of prior friendship that had led her here now, and so she tried to build a bridge.

  “Not from you. You know me too well. I felt safe coming here.”