CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
At first she barely cried. She was in shock. A deep, mind-altering state of confusion and despair, because she was besieged by the kind of grief that made everything unrecognisable. She showered, staring at the tiled wall for so long the lines of the grout began to blur, and then, when she flicked off the water, she sobbed. Her tears fell freely, mingling with the water from the shower, and as she patted her body and face dry, the tears kept falling, silently slipping down her cheeks, as her chest moved with each sob and her body shook on wave after wave of sadness.
Because she’d fought for Luca, and it hadn’t been enough.
She’d argued for them. For their relationship, their family, their future—and yes, their love—and he’d pushed her away, just like he had before.
What more could she do?
He’d been so emphatic at first, so clear, so determined, but the more she’d pushed, the more she’d felt his resolve weakening, felt him getting closer and closer to admitting the truth, until he had. And it had been the hardest thing she’d ever have to listen to.
Going into their conversation, she’d had a theory about how he felt about her, but it had been just that—a theory. A hope. A belief that she couldn’t love someone and be so wrong about them.
But when he’d said those words she’d been so desperate to hear, then quickly followed them up with ‘but I refuse to let myself love you,’ it had broken her heart all over again, and this time, it had broken her heart on his behalf too. She felt so desperate for both of them, for this awful mess they were in. She was still reeling.
She pulled back the cover and curled up in bed, hugging her knees to her chest protectively, squeezing her eyes shut and praying for the relief of sleep; but it didn’t come, not for a long, long time. Before it did, Imogen replayed every word, every look, and the tears kept falling.
* * *
It was unnaturally silent. So silent he could hear the beating of his heart, its accusatory thumping like a drumbeat of blame. Of recrimination.
He’d told her he didn’t want to hurt her again, and that had been true. Regardless, that was exactly what he’d done.
He’d seen it on her face, and he’d never hated himself more.
He cursed the day they’d ever met. For Imogen’s sake, he would take it all back, if he could. He would take back every kiss, every touch, every moment that now seemed to shimmer with gold dust because of how special it had been. He would undo it all if it meant he could spare Imogen the pain he’d inflicted upon her again and again.
Darkness wrapped around him, silent and accusatory, and then, somewhere in the small hours of the morning, he heard the worst noise he could possibly imagine: Imogen’s sob.
He dropped his head and groaned on a wave of self-disgust.
* * *
She must have slept eventually, because Imogen woke just after six, her face pale and eyes puffy. She was not even granted a few scant moments of forgetting—there was no relief in the liminal seconds between sleep and waking, no reprieve from pain. When she woke, it was with the ache of their confrontation at the forefront of her mind, his every word imprinted on her soul.
Acid filled her mouth as she stood and dressed quickly, scraping her hair back into a ponytail before pushing out of her room and moving silently towards Aurora’s.
She had to get out of his home. She had to leave.
It was impossible to remain here, feeling as she did, knowing how determined he was to ice her out of his life.
She wanted to silence her brain, to shut down the hateful memories, but if anything, they were growing stronger and louder as she packed Aurora’s things. Almost as if the simple act of wrapping up their life here was filling that argument with greater imperative.
Imogen had told Luca that she would fight for him, and she’d done that. She’d fought. She’d been reasonable and calm even when her insides were quivering with sadness and want. He’d rejected her, but not because he didn’t want her.
Because he didn’t know how to make this work.
Because he was wedded to this idea of guilt, and his answer—the answer of a child, really—was an eye for an eye. He felt he’d taken his parents’ and sister’s lives, and so his answer was to offer his own in penance.
But what about her life? If he really loved her, surely that counted for something? Surely that could be the beginning of him letting go of this awful pledge of sorrow?
For the briefest moment, hope pierced her heart, like sunshine determinedly finding its way through a thick storm cloud. He loved her. He loved her. That had to mean something; she just had to get him to understand that…
After glancing at their still-sleeping daughter, she strode out of Aurora’s room in search of Luca, her heart palpitating because if this didn’t work, it really would be over. And she desperately didn’t want that to be the case.
* * *
‘What about me?’ she asked, when she found him in his study, seated as his desk and staring at the laptop screen. He glanced at her, his expression giving little away.
She noted the glass of Scotch to his left and wondered if he’d poured it because he wanted to take the edge off their conversation.
He lifted a dark brow in silent enquiry, looking to all the world calm and unaffected. But she saw his eyes; she saw through him. She understood him now.
‘You’re determined to punish yourself for the accident, but what about me?’
His lips compressed as he stared back at her. ‘I’ve told you, I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘But you are, and you’ll keep hurting me, every day that you refuse to let me love you, to let me be loved by you. Are you really okay with that?’
He reached for the Scotch and curled his hands around the glass, gripping it without drinking. ‘I’ve told you—’
‘You’ve told me nothing,’ she said with a slash of her hand through the air. ‘Nothing that makes sense, anyway.’
‘You know why I am this way.’
‘You know what you haven’t told me, Luca? You know what you never say?’
He was silent.
‘What would your parents want?’
He stood up as though she’d electrocuted him, Scotch still clutched in one hand. ‘Don’t.’
‘You speak of them with love. Admiration. You describe a childhood that was happy and filled with the certainty that you were adored. Would they have wanted you to be alone and miserable for the rest of your life?’
‘It’s not about what they would have wanted, it’s what I deserve.’
She expelled an angry breath. ‘I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that for even a second, but even if I did—what about me? What about what I deserve? Can’t you just try, try a little, to put this aside for my sake?’
He closed his eyes, so she had no way of knowing if she was getting through to him, no way of knowing if he was starting to understand how his path of self-loathing was affecting her.
‘I’m letting you go because of what you deserve. I recognise that you should have so much more than this.’
‘I don’t want more than this; I just want you.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s impossible.’
‘No, it’s not. You could fight for this. You could fight for me, for us.’
He stared at her, as though her words were torture, but also, vitally, he was listening.
‘For your aunt and uncle,’ she continued, hope stretching in her heart. ‘Your cousins. For Aurora. You’ve built an enormous fortress, and a crocodile-infested moat around yourself, and yet here we all are: people who love you, who will always love you, no matter how hard you push us away. Maybe that’s what you deserve? To know that there is nothing that you can do that would make us stop loving you?’
‘Don’t,’ he groaned. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’
‘But you need to hear it, you need to feel it.’ She closed the distance between them and caught his hand, pressed it to her chest. ‘You have my heart, Luca. You hold it in your hands, as much now as you did three years ago. Please, I’m begging you—don’t throw this away as though it means nothing.’
‘It means everything . I told you that. This isn’t a question of love. It’s not about whether or not I love you, or believe you love me.’ His voice was thick with emotion. ‘I am choosing a different path, something other than this—’
‘I can’t let you do that,’ she whispered. ‘I just can’t.’
‘It’s not your decision.’
* * *
He needed her to understand that. Damn it, why wouldn’t she hear him?
He’d never seen Imogen like this. She was acting as though her whole life depended on his acceptance of her argument—didn’t she understand? He couldn’t give her that!
Only Imogen reached up and grabbed his jaw with her fingers, holding his face steady so their eyes had to meet and stick, and something inside of him shifted and gave way, something important and vital. Something he’d always relied on, to hold people at bay. His whole world seemed to be shifting—in fact, tipping off its axis—so nothing was recognisable now.
‘Listen to me, Luca Romano.’ He was listening. Intently. ‘I love you. I love you because you are good and decent.’ Her eyes bore into his, long and hard. ‘You are good, and you deserve to be happy.’ His first instinct was to fight that—or rather, it would have been. But now, her words washed over him, and he actually let them. Not just wash over him, but seep in, deep into his soul. ‘Let me spend the rest of our lives enjoying that happiness with you. Just let me love you—and when you’re ready, love me back.’ Her voice was husky, and yet somehow reassuring. ‘It’s that simple.’
He shook his head, but not hard enough to dislodge her grip. She stood up onto the tips of her toes and brushed her lips over his. His heart jolted. ‘I love you,’ she repeated, and the words continued to seep into him. ‘And you are worthy of that love.’
His breath shuddered and it was another release, of the old hatreds and blame, the guilt, the determination to destroy his life because of the past.
‘I love you,’ she said again, like an incantation. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I can’t.’
He closed his eyes in a wave of relief. Imogen leaving was the last thing he wanted; he’d grappled with that all night and now knew it to be true. He wanted her to stay. He needed her.
She was his family.
He lifted a hand to her cheek, touching her as if to reassure himself that she was real. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he admitted, then shook his head, because that was only part of it. He placed his Scotch glass down on his desk, then put one hand behind her back, drawing her to him. ‘Even if you stay, I can’t promise this will be easy. I don’t want to hurt you, it’s just… I don’t know how to do this…any of it. I’m…lost.’
* * *
The honesty of that admission pulled at Imogen’s heartstrings as nothing else could. Here was big, tough, lone wolf Luca Romano, the man who could do anything , admitting that this was new to him. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his chest.
‘I know that. I get it. I’m not expecting you to change overnight. You’ve spent decades hating yourself, blaming yourself for that awful accident, and walling yourself away from anyone who got close to you. I know there are some instincts you’re going to have to work to unlearn. But I love you, I’m not going anywhere…and I have faith in you. I know you can do this; I know you can let me in, Luca.’
He dropped his forehead to hers, inhaling deeply. ‘I can’t let you again,’ he admitted on a groan. ‘But Cristo , nor can I live with hurting you, with messing this up…’
‘So don’t mess it up,’ she said with a lift of one shoulder. ‘You’re a really smart guy. You’ve got this.’
He furrowed his brow as if trying to make sense of the world he was stepping into, of the world she was showing him.
‘Are you saying…you really want to marry me?’
Imogen laughed softly. ‘I’m saying I love you, but no. I’m not going to marry you. Not yet.’
His frown deepened.
‘Let’s walk before we can run. I love you, and you love me, so let’s wait and get married down the track, when we’re used to this situation, when you’ve met my parents and I’ve met your aunt and uncle, when you’re able to love me without feeling as though it’s some kind of a betrayal,’ she added gently. ‘Let’s wait and do it all slowly, let’s do it properly.’
‘Yes,’ he exhaled with a breath of relief. ‘I want that for you.’
‘Oh, Luca. I want it for both of us.’
* * *
Genevieve was, in the end, not such an enormous stumbling block. Whether it was seeing the pair of them together, or Luca’s determination to win her over, it didn’t take long before Genevieve was disavowing any possible reason to hate Luca and instead singing his praises. He was ‘such a good dad’ and ‘wonderfully supportive of Imogen,’ and when Luca and Imogen drove out to the Cotswolds to meet Imogen’s parents, Genevieve went with them.
She continued to help with Aurora, having the little girl some weekends so Luca and Imogen could escape for quick romantic trips. They always felt that they were making up for lost time, and Genevieve seemed to understand that.
Reuniting with Luca’s aunt and uncle was an emotional and heart-wrenching experience—but also one of joy. They were overwhelmed with love for Aurora, and when Imogen finally saw pictures of baby Angelica, she could see for herself that the two girls were indeed like twins. Luca’s aunt and uncle doted on Aurora, and they couldn’t stop staring at Luca, at how much he’d changed, at how grown-up he was, how successful. They’d kept a folder of newspaper clippings, showing his various successes; their pride was so obvious.
They loved him. They understood why he’d pushed them away, but they’d missed him, and they were eternally grateful to Imogen for helping him find his way back to them.
And so it was, on one such trip back to see Luca’s family, when they returned to his villa in Tuscany for the night, and lay on a blanket beneath the stars and among the vines, Imogen was reflecting on how glad she was to have fought for this, on how much had been at stake, and Luca’s thoughts were apparently of a similar bent. He lifted up onto one elbow and smiled across at her, a smile that radiated true happiness and inner peace, and reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers.
‘I love you.’
Three little words that meant so much, and all the more because she knew Luca had never intended to say them to another soul.
‘And I’ve been thinking about something.’
Her eyes scanned his face. ‘Oh?’
‘What I said to you that morning—that you would be easy to replace.’
‘Luca, it doesn’t matter.’
But his lips quirked downwards. ‘You brought it up, the first time we came here.’ He nodded towards the villa. ‘You said those words had tortured you for a long time.’
‘It all seems like so long ago.’ She furrowed her brow. ‘It feels like something that happened to someone else, not us.’
‘I agree. But I need to tell you something I didn’t dare admit back then.’
She held her breath, no idea what would come next, yet somehow secure enough in their love to know the bubble wouldn’t burst.
‘I didn’t replace you. I couldn’t.’ He brushed a thumb over her lips, staring at her as if mesmerised.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I met women. I thought about asking them home with me. Something always held me back. At the time, I told myself it was further punishment of my sins—not just towards my parents and sister but also towards you. I told myself I didn’t deserve even the pleasure of sex any more. But really, I just didn’t want to be with anyone but you.’
Imogen’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re saying there was no one else after me?’
‘I’m saying that, yes.’
She shook her head a little, and tears flooded her eyes. ‘Oh, Luca.’ She bit into her lip. ‘You have no idea how much it hurt, to imagine you with other women.’
‘Actually, I have a fair idea. You are not the only one who played out those scenarios. I was a glutton for punishment, quite literally, and the knowledge that you had undoubtedly moved on was a frequent source of self-flagellation for me.’
She closed her eyes on a wave of pity and sadness. ‘We wasted so much time.’
‘I didn’t admit to myself that I loved you, but I knew you were irreplaceable, that it would be impossible to even try.’
She wriggled forward so their bodies connected. ‘I’m glad you came to your senses finally.’
His lips quirked. ‘You and me both.’
‘When you came to the bar that night, was it because you were looking for me?’
He scanned her face thoughtfully. ‘Undoubtedly. There was so much I didn’t admit to myself—so much I didn’t understand. But the second I heard your voice and then turned around and saw you, it was like the stars were aligning for me. I felt a burst of life and adrenaline, a need that rocked me to my core. I just needed you,’ he said with a lift of his shoulder. ‘I’ll always need you.’
‘And I’ll always be here.’ She kissed him beneath the blanket of stars, knowing that truer words had never been spoken.
* * *
The next morning, she received the email from the record label executive; they wanted to meet the following week. It was an email that began a juggernaut—of meetings and recordings and, eventually, a career that would defy all of Imogen’s wildest dreams. A career that Luca was immensely proud of her for, as he watched from the sidelines with love and admiration for the woman he loved and the talent she possessed.
After she’d recorded her first studio album, and before things became too wild and fast-paced, Luca arranged a night out with Imogen—to celebrate her success. Only it was a night like no other. With Genevieve ensconced at their home on Aurora duty, Imogen and Luca were conveyed to the closest airport and his private jet, which traversed the short distance to Paris, touching down in the late afternoon. They were whisked to the Eiffel Tower, and straight to the top of it, where they stood and sipped champagne as the sun went down and the sky filled with gold and mauve and everything was glorious. Imogen was utterly transfixed by the view, so she didn’t notice at first that Luca had crouched to the ground, until she spun around to point something out to him and found him on one knee.
‘Luca.’ She lifted a hand to her mouth, fingers trembling.
‘ Cara mia , you know how I feel about you. You know how much I love and adore you, how much I worship you. I am indebted to you for bringing me back to life, out of the fog of a grief I thought I would never escape. You are responsible for every single piece of happiness I will ever feel in my life. You have already given me one of the greatest gifts with our beautiful Aurora, yet here I am, asking you for another gift. Would you do me the honour of being my wife?’
Imogen had forestalled the idea of marriage in the past, because she had known the most important part of their journey—at that point in time—revolved around Luca’s recovery. Luca accepting that he was worthy of love, of happiness, of a future untinged by the grief of his past. He had recovered, though. Not fully, but day by day, step by step, smile by smile, he was finally moving on, and she no longer believed his past had any ability to hurt them.
She curved her hand around his cheek, smiling and nodding, tears in her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice high in pitch. ‘Of course I’ll marry you.’
Her eyes dropped then to the ring box he held, and the stunning, enormous solitaire diamond at its centre. He removed it and slid it onto her finger, and at that exact moment, the sun gave a last fiery burst before dipping behind the buildings on the horizon, casting rays of gold from her finger—a metaphor for their future if ever she’d seen one.
* * *
They didn’t wait to marry. Six weeks was more than enough time to plan a simple ceremony saturated in love and affection. They chose his villa as the location, and Luca’s assistant organised every last detail perfectly. There were marquees in case it rained, bohemian rugs on the ground so guests could take off their shoes and relax, exquisite food, prosecco in abundance, and a wonderful local band played music late into the night. They even played the song Imogen had written, that had been such a global success, and Luca sang along to it, grinning at Imogen, because those words were a part of the fabric of their past. They were a lesson, for both of them, about feelings, and love, and not wasting opportunities.
They would never waste their second chance; it was a pledge they’d made in their wedding vows, and intended to make to one another always.
* * *
When news broke that Imogen’s first single had hit number one on the charts in several countries around the world, including the UK and America, one might have thought it was the most exciting news she’d received that day. And it was certainly wonderful, but nothing compared to the two bright lines that stared back at her from a little white pregnancy test.
It hadn’t been planned, and yet they hadn’t exactly been careful. There’d been slip-ups from time to time, when passion had moved them. Their honeymoon in Egypt had been so romantic, and when Imogen counted back the dates on her calendar, she suspected it had indeed been the night after their wedding that had placed new life inside of her.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, her heart fluttering in her chest, because the suspicion that had been growing for the last few weeks had finally been confirmed.
Only, they had a house full of people! Imogen’s parents and sister had come to celebrate her success, as well as some friends from the bar, and Brock, the executive who’d discovered her. The house was full and brimming with excitement, Imogen’s album playing in the background as they all talked excitedly about what the number one news might mean for her. ‘Magazine covers, definitely.’ Genevieve grinned, and Imogen’s head swirled.
‘Are you okay?’ Luca caught her in the kitchen, making a cup of tea. ‘You seem distracted.’
‘Oh, I—guess I am.’
‘It’s overwhelming?’ he said, lifting her chin.
She bit into her lip. ‘It is, it is. It’s just… I’ve hardly been able to think about the album, to be honest.’
His brows drew together. ‘Really? Something more exciting on your mind?’
He’d said it as a joke, teasing her, but Imogen nodded, then quickly scanned the room to make sure they were still alone. She lifted up onto her tiptoes and whispered the news in his ear, then pulled back to see his reaction.
It was impossible to interpret all the feelings that flitted across his face, but her heart lifted to see him smile. ‘For real?’
She nodded. ‘You’re happy?’
‘Happy? I’m ecstatic. Oh, Imogen, it’s the best news I’ve ever heard. Aurora is the meaning of our lives, I know that, but there is so much I missed. So much I didn’t get to support you through. I want to be there with you this time, through the pregnancy, the birth, the early days. I want to see Aurora become a big sister, to watch her beam with pride when she holds her little brother or sister. I’m beyond happy. Thank you.’
‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘Oh, yes, you did. You brought me back to life—you stood by me and made me wake up, and now I am living some kind of fantasy. You are everything to me, my darling.’
She kissed him, her heart soaring, her happiness impossible to contain.
* * *
They were blessed with three more children, and Imogen had more than ten number one singles during her career. She became famous the world over, but none of that mattered to her. It was a by-product of doing what she loved, that was all. The people that really mattered to her were the people she’d loved and been loved by before her success; she never lost her grounding. From time to time, she went back to the bar that held such a special place in her heart, to sing for unsuspecting crowds. It always garnered an enormous response, and each time, as the night wore on, and social media lit up with the knowledge she was there, the place would get packed, but Imogen barely noticed. When she played at that place, it was like stepping back in time, and memories of her and Luca, meeting in the bar, beginning their story together there, were what she felt most of all.
When the bar went on the market, they bought it in an instant, and Imogen put her energy into turning it into a place for fledgling musicians to come and perform. She saw it as her duty to support those attempting to break into the industry, and her connections ensured record label executives and social media music influencers were always in attendance.
* * *
Ten years after their wedding, in a sign that the past was still very much a part of them, even when it could no longer hurt them, Luca and Imogen stood side by side as they opened a burns unit at a top hospital, in his family’s name. With state-of-the-art technology and some of the best specialists in the world, the unit would become a beacon to those who needed it. His parents were gone, but never forgotten; his sister was someone they spoke of often. Indeed, a family photograph of Luca, his parents and sister now had pride of place in their home, and Imogen smiled at them whenever she walked by. She hoped that somehow they knew just how happy Luca was, how well he was doing, and that he’d found his way to a family that truly loved him, and always would.
* * * * *