Chapter 5
Millie
It was rare for Alessio to be home by six o’clock.
I could count on one hand the number of times we had dinner together at a reasonable hour.
He would usually have a late-afternoon meeting or a site visit that he couldn't put off.
If he was any later than eight, he sometimes texted me, and I'd instruct our housekeeper to place his plate aside, just in case he was still hungry.
So I didn't know what to make of this new habit.
For two weeks, he'd been coming home before six p.m., and it had thrown off my whole schedule.
I'd even asked him yesterday why he was home so often, and he'd looked so affronted at the simple question.
I only wanted to know in case there was a problem at work he needed support with.
On the days he was in London, I had everything at our home handled to the letter.
I mostly co-ordinated with his secretary, as there was no point in texting him since my messages either went unanswered or he'd only remember to reply when he was on his way home. He was a busy man—very much in demand.
But soon I was about to be the busy one.
My eyes shifted to the red Birkin bag Alessio gifted me for my twenty-first birthday. Excited nerves swarmed me at what lay inside. I just needed to find the right time.
A throat noisily cleared, piercing the quiet of the dining room.
In the corner of my eye, Alessio picked up his water glass and took a long swallow before placing it back onto the table with a hard thud.
I returned my focus to my plate, forking at a piece of steak that was cooked to perfection, but I could barely taste it.
"How was your day?" my husband asked. He'd been making mundane small talk like that since we were seated.
I shrugged and took a sip of water. "It was fine. I met up with my mum for lunch at Soul and ran some errands."
He nodded, his mouth opening to say more before he closed it and snatched up his wine glass. I knew Alessio pretty well by this point, and by the look on his face, something was bothering him to the point of frustration.
Could he feel it too? This distance between us.
Our usually well-oiled rhythm had been thrown off balance, and I didn't know how to get myself out of this funk.
Our marriage had shifted. Oh, I knew why, of course, but I wasn't ready to confront it yet.
I'd already suppressed it. Stiff upper lip and all that.
My news would not restore our equilibrium, but there was nothing I could do about that now; nor did I want to.
I cleared my throat loudly and sat up straight, drawing my husband's gaze. No time like the present…
"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," I slowly started. He placed his fork down, granting me his full attention with a furrowed brow.
I grabbed my bag from beside me and swiftly produced an envelope. I handed it to Alessio, who stared at it for a moment before reluctantly accepting the letter. Was it just me, or did his hand tremble a little?
He scanned the words while my heart thundered. Slowly, his shoulders came down in a long exhale, but his frown deepened.
"What is this?" he finally asked, his eyes still reading the letter. "Veterinary Medicine," he quoted before glancing up at me in surprise.
"I've already accepted," I stated, although that should've already been clear. There was a slight quiver of nerves in my voice, yet my eyes remained on him with steely challenge. "I applied a year ago."
He looked over the letter again. "Classes start in three months."
"Yes, and I've accepted," I reiterated.
The silence stretched. I waited for him to say something—anything—but he appeared truly lost for words. I wasn't surprised; he had no idea that this was what I wanted to do.
"This is a hard school to get into."
I bristled, and my chin raised. "I have three A levels in Biology, Chemistry, and Physics. I have strong grades in my GCSEs and have more than completed the relevant work experience hours."
"Work experience?" he echoed. I wasn't used to him being so gobsmacked, but I could appreciate that this whole situation had come entirely out of the blue.
"Tom's uncle is a vet. I volunteered in his clinic nearly every day." Tom had become a good friend, and he regularly updated me on what was happening in Keating. Alessio, much to my frustration, kept making excuses that hindered our visit. I would just have to go on my own sometime.
My husband's eyes narrowed at that tidbit, and his face reddened. I wasn't sure why that statement bugged him so much, but I decided not to push.
"I also volunteer at pet shelters in Finsbury Park and Wimbledon. They all provided excellent references for me."
He continued to stare at the piece of paper until it crinkled under his hand. "I…see." He glanced up at me. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" There was a flash of hurt in his dark eyes before it disappeared.
I looked away, discomforted for a split second. "I was waiting for the right time. There was no guarantee that I would get in," I softly remarked. "Placements are competitive, so I wanted to wait until I was sure."
"And after you got in?" he demanded.
The date of that letter indicated that it was sent a while ago. It wasn't that Alessio was unapproachable or scary. I'd just been so happy and comfortable with the status quo—that is, until it had blown itself to smithereens.
"There just wasn't the right time. You were in the middle of acquiring property up north, so I rarely saw you."
Up north in Manchester. With Annabelle.
I snatched up my wine and drank deeply.
"And what would you ultimately like to do? Own a shelter, perhaps?"
"I want to be a vet surgeon."
He jerked in surprise.
"I want a life outside this marriage," I continued, my voice shaking in earnest. "I know you think I love shopping and lunching all day, but I don't always.
Before I entered this marriage, I had dreams of going to veterinary college.
I put them on hold to run your household.
But I need more now, and I don't want to let the opportunity pass me by. "
"Is this about what happened at the gala?" His words were laced with desperation, finally breaking past the elephant lurking in the corner. "Because if it is, I assure you, that is over—"
"I don't care about that," I quickly interrupted, pink rising in my cheeks. I wasn't ready to discuss it, if at all. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing left to say in the matter—although I was relieved to hear that he'd at least ended things with Annabelle.
We'd been to another charity function since that night, and I almost had a panic attack in the lavatory upstairs. What if I unknowingly socialised with one of his women? What if everyone was quietly laughing at me? But I held my head high and smiled through it all.
Alessio had stuck by my side all night—another thing that was out of character for him. His arm was firmly wrapped around my back, or his large hand enclosed over mine. I didn't quite know what to make of it. It was an odd kind of juxtaposition—my quiet source of comfort and pain.
"What you do outside our marital home is clearly not my concern," I roughly injected. "After all, you promised to be more discreet." I glanced up at him. "Right?"
My eyes swam with some heavy emotion, and he dropped his gaze from whatever he saw there. He seemed to be battling something inside himself, and I held my breath for his response.
His small nod of agreement killed that layer of hope I'd stupidly carried. My shaky breath expelled, and I clenched my jaw to keep my true feelings from spilling over.
"I'm not asking you," I stated, breaking through the tense silence. "I'm giving you notice that this is what I'll be doing for at least four years. There will be times when I'm not home or will be late."
He bowed his head for a moment, and I stared at his handsome profile. His hair was a little longer than usual, and I made a note to book him in for a haircut. His strong jaw was also lined with stubble that was a little more on the unkempt side. But I always found it sexy this way.
Whatever internal struggle Alessio seemed to be battling was swiftly pushed aside. He raised his head with a tight smile and handed my letter back.
"If this is what you want to do, then you have my full support. I'm happy for you."