“That’s just your wishful thinking. Everyone wants me to be different, miraculously healed or whatever. Is it so hard for you to accept that I don’t want that?”
“Oh, I know that,” Nico murmured. “I understand your determination to live life in some kind of self-imposed purgatory, but Isabella’s woken you up from that. You have a chance to be happy. But not if you let her walk away.”
“I’m not ‘letting’ her do anything,” Gabe grunted. “She has work commitments in the States. She has to leave.”
“Sure, but what about after that? Does she fly back to Australia? You never see her again? Is that really what you want?”
“Why does this matter? Why does everyone need to interrogate me about this?”
“Because we love you,” Nico said simply, and tears sparkled on Isabella’s lashes. She was glad Gabe had this family – a family that wouldn’t let him keep his head in the sand and exist the way he had been indefinitely.
“And because I think you love her.”
“You’re wrong.” The denial was swift and certain, like the slicing of a blade through Isabella’s chest. She stayed where she was now out of morbid curiosity. “She means nothing to me.”
“Oh, really?”
“Isabella’s great. She’s been a welcome distraction at a time I find it difficult to function, but that’s all. A beautiful, pleasing distraction. If you’re looking for something more meaningful between us, it’s because of your hopes for me, not my reality.”
Her blood felt as though it was filled with ice.
“You’re so full of it,” Nico shook his head.
Isabella closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath.
“No, you are, and everyone else who imagines there’s some great big romance at play. Isabella showed up on my doorstep in the middle of a blizzard. What was I meant to do? Throw her out? Believe me, I would have if I possibly could.”
“Okay, fine. So you had to offer her shelter, but you didn’t have to get involved with her. That was a choice you made.”
Isabella dug her fingernails into her palms.
“You might be married now, but surely you remember what it’s like to be single?” The pause made her heart heavy. She was aching all over. “Sex is sex, full stop. That doesn’t mean anything beyond physical chemistry.”
She felt like she’d been punched in the chest; it was almost impossible to draw breath. Shallow rasps, in and out, didn’t help.
“You brought her to Villa Fortune,” Nico pushed.
“She had nowhere else to go.” Gabe spun away from his brother, his face tilted towards Isabella. She stayed perfectly still, hidden behind the gauzy curtains. “It was Christmas eve. I wasn’t about to make her spend it alone.”
“Come on, man. That’s a cop out.”
“Fine, I wanted her to experience this,” Gabe gestured towards Villa Fortune and Isabella instinctively pushed back, hiding herself from sight. “She doesn’t have any family and she’s got this crazy idea about Christmas. I felt sorry for her, okay? It didn’t feel right to come here and send her packing to some hotel when I knew how much she’d like this experience.”
She could see Nico’s cogs turning as he worked to process that. “So what? You brought a woman to Villa Fortune for the first time because you felt sorry for her?”
Mortification curled her toes.
“Si. It means nothing. Niente.”
Her heart splintered. She pushed her feet to the ground, ready to move, to run away, but Nico’s next question held her still, captive to the conversation she shouldn’t have heard.
“So you don’t feel anything for her? Nothing at all?”
She studied Gabe’s face, looking for any hint of the emotions that ran through her, looking for any sign that he loved her as she did him. It was a fool’s hope though. His expression was implacable, and she’d heard enough to know the truth. “No. Honestly, I’ll be glad when she’s gone. I just want to get back to my real life, okay?”
Isabella was shaking like a leaf. She sat there for a long time, far longer than was wise. She was sure that the longer she stayed away, the more she’d be missed, and she was right. After almost an hour in the room, absorbing what Gabe had said and accepting the truth of his replies, the door creaked open and Lauren walked in. She liked the British nurse – Raf’s wife – a lot.
“There you are! I was wondering what you were up to.”
“I had to record a Christmas video,” she said, glad she sounded like she usually did, even when she was a long way from feeling it.
He didn’t love her.
He didn’t feel anything close to love for her. He pitied her. It was the most insulting thing he could have said, even if it was motivated by kindness. She didn’t want his pity, damn it.
Despair had her stomach twisting; she couldn’t stay here a moment longer.
It was like everyone else in her life. She wasn’t wanted. He didn’t want her. She’d fallen in love and he didn’t want her. Her pulse was throbbing, her limbs felt all tingly. Panic was like a rash on her skin.
A plan came to her blessedly fast – an escape route offering her a glimmer of hope. “I actually had an email from my agent – he’s asked me to take an early morning meeting in Florence tomorrow, before I fly out to America. I’m going to have to leave as soon as possible.”
“Oh,” Lauren’s face showed disappointment, and Isabella understood then: they were all hoping she was a permanent fixture, that this relationship meant something more to Gabe. Well, it did to Isabella, but one person’s love could not a relationship make.
“I don’t want to drag Gabe away from his Christmas with Yaya,” she said meaningfully, glad she had that emotional wrench to use in her favour. “What’s the best way to get to Florence from here?”
“Gabe will want to take you; it’s not far to fly. Come, let’s find him.”
“No.” It was a blurted denial. “I mean, I’ll find him to say goodbye, of course, but I really would prefer not to bother him. He’s already done so much for me.” Her voice quivered a little; she covered it with a smile. “I’ll catch an uber.”
“That will cost a fortune.”
Isabella waved a hand through the air. “It’s a business expense; it’s fine.” She felt both better and worse. Better for having taken control but worse, oh so much worse, to have heard Gabe so clearly spell out his feelings, even as hope had started to burst through her.
He didn’t love her.
He wanted her gone – he’d be glad when she was gone.
Lauren tried to change Isabella’s mind the whole way to the salon, but Isabella was resolute.
“I’ve already booked the uber,” she explained gently. “It will be here soon.” She waved her hand to show the app on her phone.
“What’s this about an uber?” Max asked from across the room. Silence fell.
She was conscious of everyone’s eyes on her, but Gabe’s most of all.
“I just checked my emails for the first time in days. I need to be in Florence first thing tomorrow; I have to leave.” She swept her gaze over the room, feeling a spark of anxiety as her eyes landed on Gabe. She saw the tightening of his face, the throbbing of a muscle in his jaw, but she refused to weaken. He didn’t want her to stay. He wanted the exact opposite, and she was giving it to him. Whatever she’d imagined they shared had been an illusion. She’d been completely wrong. Even the intensity of his expression now was just Gabe – she’d mistaken it for something else, something more. She’d been wrong.
“Surely you can put off the meeting?” Elodie interjected.
It took all Isabella’s concentration to smile brightly, as though nothing whatsoever was wrong. “It’s important,” she fibbed. “And I am in Italy primarily to work.”
“But –,” Elodie gestured to the Christmas tree. “It’s Christmas.”
“I know,” she smiled – it hurt, pushing her face into a lie. “This is important. Thank you all so much for including me.�
� At least now the thickness in her throat could be excused by affection.
Gabe stood; she didn’t look at him. Instead, she crossed to Yaya, who was sitting in a chair by the tree. “Thank you for everything.” She crouched down, her back intentionally to Gabe. She lowered her voice. “I’m going to leave your recipe book. I think you might have got the wrong idea about Gabe and me. It was very kind of you, but it wouldn’t be right to keep it.” She stood up before Yaya could object. “Thank you again.” She squeezed Yaya’s hand then turned, encompassing the group in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Merry Christmas.”
Of course, it wasn’t so simple. Each family member came to give her a hug and say goodbye personally. She was onto Fiero – the last except for Gabe – when her phone buzzed, alerting her that the uber driver was out the front. A moment later, her phone began to ring.
She answered it, holding a finger up to Gabe, who was the last member of the Montebellos she had to farewell.
“I’m here,” the driver spoke in halting English per her app’s request. “But there’s a security gate. How do I get through?”
“I’ll come out. Just give me five minutes, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll wait.”
She disconnected the call then fixed Gabe with a polite smile. Her heart hurt like crazy. Everything hurt.
“What are you doing?” He put a hand in the small of her back, guiding her towards the door, away from his family. She could feel their attention, and knew they were being watched. Keeping her back straight, she exited the room.
“Leaving.” She answered directly; it seemed best. “I just have to get my bag.”
“I’ll get your damned bag,” he snapped, then dragged a hand through his hair, looking at her intently. “Why now?”
“I told you.” Her tone was clipped. She felt defensive and wounded, hurt beyond bearing. “I have a meeting.”
“So I’ll fly you there later tonight, or tomorrow morning first thing. There’s no need to leave now.”
“I’d prefer to be settled, get my head into gear. I need to focus on work now.”
Her heart was breaking, but Isabella knew the pain of rejection. She’d felt its particular sting enough times to know the only way to lessen that hurt was to control her departure. If she left on her terms, she’d at least retain her pride.
He reached out, lacing his fingers through hers. Her stomach ached.
“My driver’s here.”
“Cancel the car. I’ll take you.”
“No. This is special to Yaya. You have to stay.” She did her best to smile. “Come on, Gabe, now or tomorrow, what’s the difference? We both knew I was leaving at some point.”
She felt as though a tonne of cement had been poured onto her chest. Extricating her fingers from his, she took a step backwards. “I bet you’ll be glad to see the back of me,” she couldn’t help remarking, delivering his statement back to him.
His frown was reflexive. An instantaneous curving of his lips.
“Stay tonight.”
It wasn’t a denial, just a request for more time. A stay of the executioner’s axe, but only a temporary one. And to what end?
“No, Gabe. It has to be now.”
He swore under his breath. “Why?”
“What are you doing?” She asked with a small, weary laugh. “We both know this is for the best. You don’t have to act as though it’s not what you want. Is it that you’re worried you’ll hurt me if you don’t fight for me to stay? I know exactly how you feel, there’s no need to pretend otherwise.”
He stared at her for several long seconds. “You’re leaving because of how I feel? Or because of your meeting?”
Damn it. She’d said too much and he was too astute to miss it.
“Both, neither. Damn it, Gabe, I have to go.”
“You’re choosing to go.”
She turned on her heel and stalked down the corridor towards the bedroom they’d been sharing. It was heart-wrenching to walk in and see that space, knowing she’d never again lie beside Gabe, never again wake next to him. Even worse to remember how she’d felt that morning, secure in the knowledge of her love for him, excited for the possibility that he may very well love her back.
Her collection of things was on a chair in the corner. She shoved them into the bag then lifted it over her shoulder. “Thanks for letting me shelter at your place.”
Another frown. His eyes were darkened with emotions but she couldn’t understand why. Surely all he felt was relief? After all, he wanted her to go. He couldn’t wait for that, right?
That thought spurred her forward. She stopped right in front of him. “Don’t walk me out; it’s not necessary.”
He didn’t react at first. “I don’t have your phone number.”
She lifted her brows. “You’re not going to call me.”
Several seconds passed; Isabella held her breath.
“I will. For the car, and your suitcase. I’ll need it to arrange the logistics.”
Damn it. She closed her eyes for a second, her hopes for a clean getaway obliterated by the realities of her situation. She should be grateful he was going to take care of those tasks for her – or staff them out to someone who would.
“Right.” She bit down on her lip as he reached for his phone, handing it to her. She pressed into a new contact form, but instead of typing her phone number, she put in an email address, then handed it back to him.
“That’s not your number.”
“No,” she agreed. “Email will be better.” She didn’t think she could hear his voice again. Pain was lashing her now; she needed to get out. “Obviously I’ll pay for any expenses incurred.”
“Di niente. Do not worry about that.”
“It’s not your problem,” she said firmly. “I’m not your problem. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but you can get back to your own life now.”
She spun away from him, hoping, desperately to be able to keep her tears at bay.
To her chagrin, Gabe followed her towards the door.
Of course he did.
“Seriously,” tension flared in her voice. “Go back to your family. I’ve already taken enough of your time.”
“What the hell, cara?”
It was the first time the nickname had bothered her. Dear. Darling. It was a lie. She flinched, paling visibly.
“It’s no big deal. I just don’t want to take you away from your celebrations.” Doing her best to appear nonchalant, she lifted up onto the tips of her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was a chaste kiss, like one might offer an acquaintance on the street, nothing more, but Gabe turned his face, his mouth finding hers, demanding more from her, as though he sought the truth through the kiss.
Anger flared in her belly. She kissed him back but it was a kiss of resentment now, of fury in fact. She wanted to shove him with her hands, to push him against the wall and throw her feelings in his face; to tell him she loved him and he damn well didn’t want her, just like everyone else in her life. But damn it, she had too much self-respect, and she loved him too much to burden him with any more guilt. It wasn’t his fault that she’d fallen for him. In fact, he’d all but spelled it out to her that she shouldn’t.
She’d shrugged off the likelihood back then, but he’d been right.
Biting back a sob, she pulled away from him, her eyes holding a silent warning.
She stared up at Gabe, his face already etched into her memory, her soul withering in a way she suspected might be permanent, and then she walked towards the door.
“Goodbye, Gabe.” She wrenched it open, the warning look still heavy in her eyes.
He looked as though he wanted to say something. She hesitated a moment, just in case, but when he remained silent, she turned and left, walking the whole way to the gate as though she didn’t have a care in the world. It was only when she was slumped into the privacy of the car’s back seat that she gave into the tears that had been cloying at her throat
. Then, they ran down her cheeks unchecked.
15
“YOU’RE IN A VILE mood.”
Gabe stared at Nico. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” Max came and straddled a backwards facing chair, reaching for a crisp and crunching down on it. “I don’t suppose your storm cloud has anything to do with a certain blonde cook and her recent departure?”
Max was closer to the money than Gabe wanted to admit. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Isabella since she’d left two days earlier. But that had less to do with Isabella and more to do with the abruptness of it all.
Her mood had been off from the minute she arrived in the salon and announced she had to leave. It hadn’t made any sense.
Right up until she walked out the door, something had been different about her. He’d felt like the real Isabella was there, but not there, buried deep inside a stranger.
But these were personal reflections. Gabe was used to keeping the world out of his head and heart, so it was easy to push back against Max’s observation. “For the hundredth time, she meant nothing to me. Just let it go, for God’s sake.”
Max and Nico shared a look.
Frustrated, Gabe stood up. “I know you mean well, but I wish you’d all butt out.”
She’d been fine on Christmas morning. Better than fine. He could tell she’d been living out a fantasy, and he’d been glad he could give that to her – the exact Christmas she’d fantasised about so often. It was why he’d brought her to Villa Fortune.
He’d got caught up talking to Nico by the pool, and when he’d come back in, Isabella was gone. She was missing for a long time – over an hour – then she’d walked in with Lauren.
Across the room, Lauren was reading a book. Clenching his teeth, he moved to her, not giving himself a chance to second guess his intentions.
She looked up as he approached. “Hey, Gabe. How’s it going?”
Beautifully Broken (The Montebellos Book 6) Page 18
