Chapter 7
That evening, Antonio fought with all his might to stay awake through dinner.
Alyssia had made reservations at their favourite Italian restaurant, El Mare, and he didn’t want to miss a single moment of it.
It had been years since he’d taken her there, and he felt absolutely awful for not managing to be more conversational, but the day’s exhaustion was slowly catching up to him.
Sitting opposite him, Alyssia chattered on about her day, which had been a series of meetings and paperwork.
He felt his eyes drooping, and forced himself to wake up by ordering an espresso.
The coffee, when it arrived, smelled like burnt toast and roasted chestnuts, the aroma immediately making him more alert.
He took a sip of the ebony liquid, feeling it scorch his tongue, and tried to focus on what his wife was saying.
“Do you understand now?” she asked, a wry smile playing on her lips.
Antonio swallowed his last sip of espresso and set the cup down, realising he hadn’t heard a single word of what she’d just said to him. He searched his memory, desperately trying to think of what she could have said to him, but it was like searching through dense fog for a needle.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologised. “I didn’t hear what you said.”
“I said, do you understand now?”
“Understand what?”
“This is how I feel every single day,” she told him. “I come home feeling exhausted and then have to listen to you witter on about your day. Most days you don’t even ask how I am!”
A wave of guilt swept over him, and he reached across the table to take her hand, which she gently withdrew.
He felt utterly ashamed of his behaviour, and couldn’t help but wonder how she’d put up with him all these years.
Most women he knew would have left him before now, and he couldn’t help but admire his wife’s patience and love.
“I am so sorry,” he murmured, tears springing to his eyes. “I’ve been incredibly selfish, and I didn’t think about you for a second. I really am an awful husband, huh?”
His wife smiled and waved a hand as if to say that it was of no importance, but the guilt was still overwhelming. He silently vowed to make sure that he asked about her day from then on, no matter how tired he felt. She’d put his life before her own for far too long, and it wasn’t fair.
His nonno had always taught him that women were the cornerstone of any household, and he knew that the old man would be spinning in his grave if he could see the colossal mess his grandson had made of his marriage. Luis had always, always told him that family came before everything.
Their desserts came, and he caught his breath a little.
Italian desserts were a sight to behold, and the tiramisu that he’d ordered was no exception.
Snow-white cream wobbled gently over perfectly soaked lady fingers, the coffee liqueur oozing out as he pressed it with his spoon.
Across the table, Alyssia smiled as she ate her gelato, which was bright yellow and smelled of lemons.
It reminded him of summers spent on the Sicilian coast, although he’d usually had a glass or two of wine to go with it.
“You always did love gelato,” his tone was soft as he reminisced. “Do you remember when I took you to Sicily with my nonna and she made you try lemon gelato for the first time?”
“It was so sour!” Alyssia laughed. “And then she told me that they put actual lemon juice and rind in the gelato, and I was honestly so surprised!”
“What was that flavour you never got over?” he asked, trying to remember. “It was such a simple flavour, but you were amazed at how fancy it was.”
“Stracciatella!” she chuckled. “It’s just vanilla and shaved chocolate, but it sounded so fancy! And then it became my favourite word for years.”
“That’s it! Stracciatella. I think you threatened to get a dog and call it Stracciatella, too. Or was it a cat?” Antonio laughed, remembering their trip with fondness.
“It was a cat. And then my father said he’d disown me if I got a cat, so that didn’t happen.”
“We should go to Sicily again when the baby’s born.” he said, his gaze softening. “Have some time to ourselves – just you, me, and our baby. Maybe we could go to Palermo and visit the Santuario di Santa Rosalia?”
Alyssia pulled a confused face at him, wondering why he’d suddenly decided he wanted to go back to Sicily.
Whilst the entire Blackwood family had its roots in Sicily, David’s decision to move to America had caused them to lose contact for many years.
It wasn’t until David’s mother died that any of the Blackwoods had gone back to Sicily.
“Your Nonna’s passed on, though, and you said that after she died you had no reason to go back to Italy.”
“That’s true.” he replied, looking at her earnestly.
“I still want our child to know where they came from. I want them to see the beauty of my country, to grow up with Italian food, Italian culture … I want them to know that, for all they’re American and Spanish, they’re Italian too.
The same for Spain – I want them to visit Andalucía and see the horses there.
Maybe even go to a chiringuito or two, like we used to? ”
“Spain’s definitely on the long list of countries they’ll visit,” Alyssia smiled.
“I want them to know who we were before them, Lissia.”
The sound of her husband’s nickname for her brought a tear to Alyssia’s eyes, and she hastily wiped it away.
Antonio reached for her hand again, and this time she didn’t withdraw it.
His fingers were warm and strong around hers, and there was an intensity about his grip that surprised her, although it wasn’t painful. If anything, it was comforting.
“I promise you now, no matter what, I will take you and our baby to Sicily,” he swore, his gaze intensifying. “Whatever happens between us, I will always love both of you. I will never abandon you, and I will make it my life’s mission to show you both just how much I love you.”
Alyssia felt the tears spill over onto her cheeks, mainly because she was desperate to believe him.
The thought of being without the man she loved both terrified her and broke her heart, but she’d made a promise to her father that, if necessary, she would start again without him.
They’d both agreed that no man was worth eternal heartbreak, and her father had promised to support her both financially and emotionally.
She could only pray that Antonio’s words had some substance to them, instead of just being lip service, and that she wouldn’t have to raise their child on her own.
They finished their desserts in silence, had a glass of water each, and then Antonio paid the check.
As they got up to leave, he wrapped his jacket around his wife’s shoulders and escorted her from the restaurant, shaking hands with the ma?tre-d’ as they left.
They slowly headed to their cars, neither of them wanting the evening to end, and he held her in his arms for a moment before letting go and searching her face.
“Are we going to be OK?” he asked, his tone slightly wistful.
Alyssia tossed her hair out of her eyes and looked up at him, taking in how haggard he was beginning to look.
Gone was the smooth skin of his youth, and she saw crow’s feet and wrinkles starting to creep onto his face.
He’d aged in the last few months, and she could even see a few grey hairs starting to appear in his hair.
She gently reached up and put her hand on his cheek, watching his eyes close as he turned his face into her palm.
It felt almost childlike, as if he were a young boy seeking approval and comfort from his mother, and her heart swelled with emotion.
Surely this wasn’t how they were meant to continue – two strangers who’d once been so madly in love?
It didn’t seem right, and she wondered if she’d been a little too hasty in asking to leave.
“I don’t know.” she murmured. “I hope so, for both our sakes, but I can’t promise you anything. You’ve hurt me more than anything, and we’ll never go back to the way that we were. It’s not going to happen.”
He opened his eyes and looked down at her, seeing her properly for the first time in ages.
She was still as beautiful as the day he’d seen her in the tiny Spanish bar he’d stumbled upon, although her eyes looked even more tired than usual, and fine wrinkles were starting to make their way onto her face.
He’d fallen for her on the spot when he met her, captivated by her intelligence, quick wit, and determination.
Seeing her talk to her people in Spanish had fascinated him, her perfume had intoxicated him, and he’d known almost immediately that she was the woman for him.
Alyssia, naturally, had taken more than a little convincing, but she’d eventually told him she loved him as well.
A year after they’d met, he’d proposed, and she’d gladly accepted.
The memories of his proposal made his chest hurt, and for a minute he thought he could smell the jasmine that had been growing nearby.
He’d taken her out for dinner, then walked along the beach with her to her father’s villa on the Andalucían coastline.
Even then, he’d been amazed by her beauty and strength, the way she moved through the world like a dancer, and the unapologetic confidence she’d shown everyone.
He slowly bent down, his face inches from hers, and felt her warm breath tickle his cheek. The air between them thickened with tension, neither of them quite knowing what they wanted to happen. She didn’t move away, so he closed his eyes and gently kissed her on the lips.
It felt like an explosion went off in his brain as their lips met, the warmth of her mouth against his sparking all kinds of emotions inside him.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, feeling her body mould itself to his.
She put her hands on his chest, and he deepened the kiss as his chest tightened with love and sadness.
This was the closeness he’d craved with all those other women, the void he’d been trying to fill for so many months, the hole in his heart that had never quite filled, and it had been in front of him all along.
The thought of never knowing Alyssia’s love again cut like a knife, and he wanted to roar like a wounded bear, but he held it inside, refusing to shatter the moment.
He tasted salt and realised Alyssia was crying softly, even as she kissed him.
Instinctively, his arms tightened even more around her, like a shield against all the world’s ills, and he felt a huge surge of protectiveness inside him.
They stood like that for several moments before Alyssia pulled away, raising a hand to wipe away his tears.
He blinked, realising he’d also been crying, and let go of her before stepping backwards.
“I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I just … I didn’t … I’m sorry.”
Alyssia smiled softly at him and put a finger to his lips. “I’m not mad about it,” she murmured. “I do have to go, though. I’ve got a meeting first thing in the morning.”
“OK.” Antonio was still gazing at her like he’d been hit with a brick. “I’ll … I’ll … I’ll see you at home?”
“We live in the same house, so I’d assume so.” she quipped, shaking her head fondly at him before getting into the waiting car and driving away.
Antonio stood in the parking lot, his lips still tingling from the kiss, and then felt tears dampening his cheeks again.
Talking about Sicily and Spain had reminded him of all the good times he’d had with Alyssia, and the thought of never having those moments again was like a knife wound to the heart.
He wiped his tears away brusquely and got into his own car, before speeding through the night towards home.