CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN
She was wrong . Not about his parents, but about his deserving to let go and live. He couldn’t. He had killed his parents, and while he appreciated Imogen’s inherently good and kind nature—that she could care about him enough to offer such advice after what he’d done to her—his whole life was, and had been for a long time, predicated on the fact that he had done something so heinous and unforgivable that he would always, always be alone.
The more he wanted someone or something, the more he fought it. The more he thought a path might lead to happiness, the harder he drew back from that path.
Imogen was a perfect case in point.
He wasn’t a fool.
He knew that sex had been a cornerstone of what they’d shared, but only because he’d kept it that way. He’d known what the potential had been. He’d known how dangerous it was to be with someone like her, who had obsessed him to the point of distraction.
Every morning, he’d woken up and sworn that would be the last time he saw her, but then he’d always weakened. It had been a never-ending cycle of dependency, until she’d done the one thing that had convinced him it had to end, then and there.
She’d fallen in love with him. Or she’d believed she had, anyway. She’d offered him the one thing he’d known he’d never accept: love. Because to let someone love you was to imply you thought yourself worthy of that love, and for Luca, that would mean forgiving himself on some level. As though his parents’ and sister’s deaths hadn’t meant anything.
And now he had to walk an even finer tightrope. Marriage to Imogen was essential for many reasons. She’d asked what the marriage would look like, and he hadn’t been able to give a clear-cut answer. He knew only that he would still need boundaries. Barriers. Roadblocks. Defences.
She had to keep hating him, or at least to never love him again. She needed to stop looking at him with those gentle, perceptive eyes, as if understanding way too much about him.
Because the moment this thing started to feel real, he would need to put distance between them again. He would never let her love him, or even care for him. He would never weaken. He wasn’t worthy; he just had to make sure she remembered that.
It was an almost impossible scenario to manage. To marry a woman who was more alluring than any he’d ever known, and to keep her at arm’s length, all the while knowing their chemistry would make it impossible not to fall into bed together?
He clenched his teeth, his spine infusing with iron.
It would be difficult, but it had to be done. Not marrying her wasn’t an option. It made him too vulnerable, too exposed to the possibility that she’d meet someone else and he’d lose her altogether. That he’d lose Aurora as well. He had to find a way to make it work. Determination flooded his veins; he would do this. He had to.
* * *
‘Do you see them often?’ Imogen curled her legs beneath her on the sofa, a cup of tea clasped in her hands.
He glanced across to her, a frown on his face. ‘Who?’
‘Your aunt and uncle. Your cousins.’
He was quiet a beat, then shook his head. ‘I have only seen them once or twice since I left.’
Imogen’s face softened with sympathy. ‘You don’t get on?’
‘I get on with them fine.’
‘Then why don’t you see them? They’re family, Luca.’
Because they loved him. They forgave him. They acted as if it hadn’t happened.
‘I’ve been busy.’
She sighed—a soft, husky sound that curled around his chest. ‘No one’s too busy to see family. Even just for a weekend.’
His grip tightened on his coffee cup. ‘We email.’
He practically heard her rolling her eyes. ‘That’s the same thing.’
‘Why does it matter?’
‘I don’t know yet, but I’m convinced it does. You push people away as a matter of course, even your own flesh and blood.’
‘More psychoanalysing?’
‘You’re the father of my child,’ she said softly. ‘You’re trying to get me to marry you, for her sake. You want to give her a family and I want that too—I do.’ She paused, as if weighing her words. ‘But what if you decide to push her away, like you did with me? I have to protect her.’
A muscle jerked in his jaw. Imogen was right. He’d given her no reason to believe he was trustworthy. In fact, he’d demonstrated he wasn’t. The fact she was even giving him a chance was, again, a testament to her goodness rather than an indication of him deserving it.
‘I won’t let her down.’
She sipped her tea.
How could he make her understand?
‘I never wanted to have children. I’ve known that for a long time. That, however, was a theoretical viewpoint. From the moment I realised I was already a dad, that Aurora was here, my child, my daughter—’ his voice cracked a little ‘—I have known the role I would want to play in her life. With Aurora, it’s not about me. It’s about her. I will spend the rest of my life being whatever she needs me to be.’
Imogen nodded once, blinking away from him. He still wasn’t sure if he’d convinced her.
‘My aunt and uncle don’t need me. They have children. They raised me because they felt they had to, after my parents died. There was no one else to take me in.’
‘Luca, how can you say that? They’re your family; they love you.’
‘No.’ He said the word like a curse. ‘They don’t. Or if they do, they’re wrong to.’
Imogen closed her eyes; he had no way of knowing what he was thinking. ‘You have to forgive yourself.’
He dismissed her words. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t. Imogen was too good to properly grasp the depths of his guilt. Silence sparked between them, and when she opened her eyes and pinned him with her gaze, there was a sadness in her expression that washed over him, leaving his chest heavy and sore.
‘Poor Luca,’ she sighed, reaching across and putting a hand on his, briefly. He refused to allow the gesture to comfort him, even when her touch pulled at something in his gut, as it always did. When he didn’t say anything in response, she stood, removing her hand. Coldness settled around him.
‘I think I’ll go for a walk.’ She gestured towards the garden. ‘I…want to soak all this in, before we leave.’
She walked away and he expelled a long, slow breath of relief. For reasons beyond his comprehension, he was telling Imogen things that he had never contemplated sharing with another soul. He was opening up to her in a way that was anathema to him. Because of the stakes now? Because he had to convince her he could be trusted in marriage? Of course. She was smart and she was cautious, with good reason. Showing her his mentality would serve two purposes: she would understand that when it came to his daughter, he would do everything he could to live up to his father’s example; and it would also serve as an insurance policy against her ever believing herself in love with him again.
* * *
Imogen walked, and she thought, and the more she did so, the more confused and sad she became. The more she wanted to make excuses for him and the more she ached for him, the more she realised that they were in a very difficult situation.
And protecting her heart seemed at once both vitally important and impossible.
* * *
It was strange to miss a place having only spent a few days there, but arriving back in London, Imogen had to admit that she had a hankering to be in the sunlit Tuscan countryside, or at the delightful white sand cove, rather than in the city that was gradually turning grey and cool as autumn took a real hold.
The impulse to run away was natural, Imogen knew. She’d felt it herself, after Luca had dumped her, and when she’d discovered she was pregnant. But she had strong, deep-rooted connections to a supportive and loving family.
And in time, the feelings had lessened, the sting of hurt had faded—even when it’d left in its wake a certainty that she’d never be the same again.
Six years had elapsed between Luca’s tragedy and his leaving Italy. Six years in which she imagined that poor young boy had been running from his grief the whole time. Even before he’d left the country, he’d changed his name and school, changed everything that had linked him to his immediate family and that accident.
He’d been running for longer than he hadn’t been. It was a habit now, as worn into him as was breathing and walking.
He’d never stop running and she needed to accept that, or she’d get hurt all over again.
The idea of keeping a distance from him was becoming harder and harder. She was a human being, not an automaton, and there was something about Luca that just got under her skin.
But as he’d said, this wasn’t about them. It wasn’t about him; it wasn’t about her. They were parents, and they both wanted to give Aurora the same kind of loving childhood they’d benefited from. Perhaps that was even more important to Luca, because of how his world had been so drastically and awfully shattered. Aurora deserved the best of them; she always would. And Imogen was starting to realise that Luca was right: they could give that to her, so long as they worked together.
She found him in his bedroom, tightening a tie around his neck, and for a moment it was impossible to speak because he was so strikingly handsome, her whole world tilted on its edge.
‘This won’t be easy, and it won’t be simple, but okay,’ she said, slowly, giving herself every chance to back out even then.
He turned to face her, and it was obvious he understood what she was referring to despite the lack of preamble. ‘You’re sure?’
She laughed softly, shaking her head. ‘Not really. But I know we won’t regret trying this. For Aurora’s sake.’
He stalked across the carpet to her, taking her hands in his and lifting them to his lips. ‘For Aurora,’ he agreed, but when he kissed her, it definitely didn’t feel that it was about anyone but them, Imogen and Luca, with a fever in both their bloods and a need time seemed unable to extinguish.
He pulled away though, looking down at her, his face so close she could see every fleck of gold in his eyes, each dark, clearly defined lash that circled them. She could see the turmoil there, the thoughts.
‘You’re not happy,’ she murmured, then could have kicked herself. Of course he wasn’t happy. This wasn’t a normal engagement. She wasn’t making all his dreams come true by agreeing to become his wife.
‘I’m relieved,’ he admitted, and her chest panged a little. ‘But, Imogen—’ He broke off, frowning deeply. ‘You were hurt by me in the past. I don’t want to hurt you again. It’s important that we both go into this with our eyes open.’
‘My eyes are open,’ she said quietly.
‘If I was a different man—’ his voice was gruff ‘—you would be all my dreams come true.’
Her heart churned.
‘But I’m not. This is who I am, who I’ll always be. I don’t want marrying me to be a ticket to misery for you.’
‘Three years ago, I didn’t understand. I thought we were something we weren’t. I thought you wanted the same thing as me.’
‘That was my fault.’
She bit into her lip. She couldn’t deny that. ‘I didn’t have enough experience to see what you were clearly trying to show me. I took everything about you at face value—I presumed your having to go to the office early to be about your workload, rather than you putting a ring-fence around the time we would spend together.’
His skin paled slightly, and his lips tightened. ‘I should never have been with you.’ He wiped a thumb over her lower lip, and his voice was rich with earnest pain. ‘You trusted me, but I was never worthy of that trust.’
For three years she’d been desperate for him to apologise. To hear him say how wrong he’d been, to say he regretted it. But those words gave her little satisfaction now.
‘I should have walked away after that first night, but you were so—’
‘So?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know.’ The answer was honest, if frustrating. ‘There was something about you, about how I felt when I was with you.’
Her stomach churned.
‘I should have known better then, and I want to do better now.’
‘We will.’
He squeezed her hands. ‘I wish I could offer you more.’
Something like grief washed over her.
‘You deserve more.’
She shook her head, denying it without understanding. ‘Are you trying to talk me out of marrying you now?’ she half joked.
‘No. I still want this. I just need to know you’re sure.’
She sucked in a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure about everything,’ she said after a beat. ‘I’m not sure how it will work, I’m not sure that it’s not a mistake, but I’m sure I want to try. I’m sure we both have the stubbornness and determination to make it work. So, let’s do it.’
His face relaxed a little, and he nodded. ‘Okay then. Let’s get married.’
Her heart popped in a way that made Imogen realise it didn’t understand. This was just an arrangement. It wasn’t real at all.
* * *
Telling Genevieve was not something Imogen was looking forward to, and it was certainly not something she wanted to do with Luca in the house. So, she waited until he was at work, then invited Genevieve over for lunch. She made a simple soup and fed Aurora early, so she was ready for a nap by the time Genevieve arrived.
Aurora’s aunt gave her a cuddle and insisted on settling her to bed, then came into the kitchen, where Imogen was spooning lunch into two bowls and removing crusty garlic bread from the oven.
‘God, I miss her,’ Genevieve murmured as she walked into the state-of-the-art kitchen. ‘Please tell me you’re coming home soon? It’s so depressing without you guys.’
Imogen’s stomach was in knots. This was the moment of truth. ‘Actually, Gen, I need to tell you something.’ She passed one bowl of soup towards her sister before taking a seat at the kitchen bench. She made no attempt to reach for her own bowl. She was far too anxious.
‘What?’ But Genevieve’s hesitation was telling. She knew something was going on. ‘Im?’
‘Luca asked me to marry him.’
Genevieve closed her eyes. ‘And you told him to go to hell, right?’
Imogen bit down on her lip. ‘At first.’
‘Oh, God.’
‘Hear me out.’
Genevieve blinked across at her sister, shaking her head. ‘I’ve heard you out, though. I heard you crying, Im. Every night, for months on end. I watched you grow thin and pale, even though you were pregnant. I watched you stare into space, your face tormented by memories you wouldn’t share. I saw you fall apart at the seams because of that bastard, and now you’re going back to him?’
‘It’s not like that,’ Imogen whispered, her voice cracking a little. ‘This isn’t the same as before.’
‘Really? Because it sounds a bit the same.’
‘I know him so much better now. I understand him.’
‘If that were true, you’d be running a mile.’
‘Gen, I love you to bits, and I know you’re trying to be supportive of me. But you don’t know him.’
‘I’ve known men like him, and I know what he did to you before. Leopards don’t change their spots.’
‘He’s not changing his spots—I just see them better now.’
‘What does that even mean?’
‘We’re not in love. This isn’t about us. It’s about giving Aurora the kind of family that matters to both of us.’
Genevieve stared at Imogen as though she’d gone mad. ‘Are you hearing yourself?’
‘I know, I know. It’s not…like me,’ she said with a lift of one shoulder. ‘But some things matter more than romance and being swept off your feet. I want to do this for Aurora. I want her to have what we had growing up.’
‘But you guys aren’t Mum and Dad. You just said it yourself—you don’t love each other. Kids are perceptive. She’s going to see that her parents hate each other—’
‘We don’t hate each other either.’
‘You have hated him for three years. I’ve heard the songs.’
Imogen winced a little, thinking of the enormous catalogue of songs she’d written, most of them inspired by the feelings he’d caused her to have.
‘That was then.’
‘But what’s functionally changed? You always knew he was Aurora’s father.’
‘I’ve seen another side to him.’
Genevieve pulled a sceptical face.
‘Gen, I’m going into this with my eyes wide open.’
‘That’s no guarantee your heart won’t get broken.’
‘But my heart has nothing to do with this. We’re getting married for Aurora.’
‘So there’s nothing going on between the two of you? You’re not sleeping with him?’
Imogen glanced down at her soup, her cheeks flushing pink.
‘You’re not going to bed together and waking up finding it hard to clutch at the threads of reality because in that moment, you’re side by side and he’s everything you want in life?’
Imogen gasped.
‘I’m your twin,’ Genevieve muttered.
‘Yeah, well, you’re not psychic. I don’t feel like that,’ Imogen denied hotly.
‘You can lie to me, but please don’t lie to yourself.’
‘I’m not.’
‘You’re not capable of being in a relationship with someone and not loving them.’
Imogen gasped. ‘Why do I feel like that’s an insult?’
‘It’s not, believe me. It’s one of the things that’s different about you and me. You give with all of yourself. You can’t help it. You’re the same with friends, family, Aurora. You put all of your heart into the people you’re with, and if that’s him, then you’re going to do the same. Except he will chew you up and spit you out for breakfast.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Imogen whispered, her heart dropping to her toes. Was Genevieve right? She’d spent so much time with Luca since coming to live with him. Was it possible he’d brainwashed her, and she just wasn’t seeing the forest for the trees?
‘Listen, Imogen. I want you to be happy. You’re my sister, and I love you. But I’ll have no part in this sham of a wedding. Get married or don’t, but whatever you do, don’t expect me to be there on the day. I have no interest in watching you make the biggest mistake of your life, and I’m pretty sure Mum and Dad will feel the same way.’
She stood up, pressed a kiss to Imogen’s cheek and then walked towards the kitchen door, soup totally abandoned. ‘Oh, and get a damned good prenup, because after he screws you and breaks your heart all over again, you should at least get some of this.’ She waved her hand around his expensive town house before blowing a kiss and stalking towards the front door.
Imogen stared at the empty space her twin had previously occupied, her heart thumping hard against her ribs, acid rising in her throat.
Was Genevieve right? Was Imogen about to make the biggest mistake of her life?
Uncertainty settled around her and refused to budge, so by the time Luca returned, she almost couldn’t bear to see him.
Unlike in the past, he came home around four, so he was available to spend time with Aurora before she went to bed. He’d become a very involved father, and loved reading to her and running her bath, supervising her dinner, cleaning up afterwards. If Imogen had expected him to want to hire a team of nannies and wash his hands of any actual parenting, she’d been completely mistaken.
When he walked in the door that particular afternoon, Imogen was dressed in her exercise gear. ‘I thought I’d go for a run,’ she said, not quite meeting his eyes.
He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and nodded instead. ‘Good day?’
‘Sure, great day. See you.’ She waved in his general direction, opened the door and stepped outside, exhaling into the cool air, grateful to have avoided being face to face to him.
She turned the music up loud on her phone and plugged her ears with earbuds, running hard and fast, doing everything she could to drown out her thoughts. They had been swirling around and around in her mind all day and she needed to escape them.
But she couldn’t. Each step made her body tired, but her mind wouldn’t stop.
She remembered the time they’d spent together in the past. Each night, each morning, each small little thing. She remembered how easily she’d fallen for him, and how little he’d cared. She remembered their madness in coming together again; she remembered the nights now, the way he was with Aurora, and panic rose inside of her, because they had to get this right, and she had no idea if this was going to be a huge mistake that she’d always regret. What if she was messing everything up for their daughter?
What if she wasn’t being honest with herself and she did actually love him? What if, what if, what if?
Frustration was a beast inside of her, uncertainty a wave she couldn’t escape.
It was dark by the time she came home, and Aurora was dressed in her pyjamas, reading a book with Luca. Imogen smiled tightly at them both.
‘All good?’ she asked, moving past them without waiting for an answer.
‘ Sì. Perfetto. And you?’
She nodded quickly. ‘I’m going to shower.’
She took her time there, too, hiding out, avoiding him, her brain ticking over, looking at this from every angle. But it didn’t matter how many times she pulled at the threads of this—she always came back to the same answer.
They were different now. They were doing this for Aurora, walking into the marriage with their eyes open to the kind of marriage it would be. Imogen wasn’t the same girl she’d been back then. It was natural for Genevieve to worry: she’d seen Imogen at her very rock bottom. But so much had changed since then.
They could do this, and it would be fine. It had to be.