Chapter 11
The next day Valentino arrived on her doorstep, bearing freshly baked blueberry muffins. And an engagement ring.
His campaign to prove himself started now.
The door opened to reveal McKenzie, full of beans in a pink tutu and fairy wings, which looked even sweeter on her diminutive frame.
‘Dr Val!’ she signed.
Valentino and Peyton had come to an agreement over what her daughter would call him given how long his name was to finger spell. And he liked it.
‘Well, good morning, young lady.’ Valentino crouched down, signing as he spoke. He could just make out the external component of the implant attached to the side of her head mostly hidden by her gorgeous curls. ‘Sei molto carina.’
Although he spoke in Italian he signed in English, so she beamed at him complimenting her prettiness.
‘We’re having breakfast,’ McKenzie signed with a flourish.
‘That’s good.’ Valentino grinned. He opened the bag and let McKenzie peek inside. ‘I brought muffins.’
‘McKenzie, darling?’
Valentino stood as an unfamiliar voice came closer. It sounded older. Peyton was obviously not alone.
‘Oh.’ An older woman with Peyton’s big grey eyes blinked curiously at him. ‘Hello, there.’
‘Hi.’ Valentino recognised her from the photo on the television. He held out his hand. ‘I’m Valentino Lombardi.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Peyton’s mother shook his hand. ‘You’re Dr Val,’ she said, a slight tease in her voice. ‘We’ve heard a lot about you.’
Valentino smiled. ‘All good, I hope.’
McKenzie chose that moment to slip her hand into his and Valentino saw the older woman clock her granddaughter’s actions. ‘I didn’t realise you made house calls?’
The teasing sparkle shone from her eyes and Valentino chuckled. ‘Only for my special patients,’ he said, grinning down at McKenzie and signing for her benefit.
‘I’m Adele, Peyton’s mother.’
‘Very pleased to meet you.’
And he was. He could see the similarities between mother and daughter except there were lines around Adele’s eyes and mouth that told him she laughed a lot. She seemed content and well put together and there was very definitely mischief dancing in her eyes. She reminded him of his own mother.
‘Would you care to join us for breakfast?’
Valentino held up the bakery packet, pleased to have bought a few extras. ‘I brought muffins.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be welcome. My daughter seems to have found her appetite at last.’
She gave him a speculative look before turning on her heel, and Valentino smiled to himself as he and McKenzie followed her.
‘Look who I found lurking in the doorway,’ Adele announced as she stepped onto the deck.
An older man looked up from a newspaper he appeared to be reading, glancing at Valentino over the top of bifocal glasses with a quizzical expression. Peyton, who was buttering toast, appeared startled.
‘Valentino!’ she spluttered, looking from him to her mother then back again.
Adele, with a rather bemused expression, threw her daughter a lifeline. ‘He brought muffins,’ she said cheerily as she gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head in Valentino’s direction, clearly indicating for him to say something.
It hadn’t been in Valentino’s plans to have an audience this morning, but he was glad that he was meeting Peyton’s parents. They were, after all, a big part of her life and, as such, would be a big part of his – hopefully.
‘Blueberry,’ he said, thrusting the bag in Peyton’s direction. ‘Warm. Just out of the oven.’
That news seemed to revive Peyton, whose gaze cut to the bag. ‘I have just eaten a huge omelette.’ She patted her stomach. ‘But I do love blueberry muffins.’
Yes, he knew that because he’d pumped Nat for all her food likes and dislikes.
‘Lovely,’ Adele said, relieving him of the packet and placing it in the centre of the table before gesturing to the empty chair beside Peyton. ‘Take a seat.’
As a well-adjusted Italian male, Valentino had a healthy respect for mothers and wasn’t about to argue with one who would hopefully soon be his mother-in-law. But before he sat he stretched his hand across the table towards the man he assumed was Peyton’s father.
‘Hello, sir. I’m Valentino Lombardi. Pleased to meet you.’
Peyton’s father half stood as he accepted Valentino’s hand in a firm, brief shake. ‘McKenzie’s surgeon? George Eden.’ He looked over his glasses at his wife as he reclaimed his seat, speculation in his gaze also. ‘Didn’t realise you blokes made house calls.’
Adele winked at Valentino and held up the percolator. ‘Coffee?’
‘Valentino would rather eat dirt than drink our heathen colonial coffee,’ Peyton said around a mouthful of muffin. ‘Is that a fair summation?’
‘More than fair,’ he acknowledged with a chuckle, trying not to be distracted by the crumbs on her lips.
It was sexy, watching her eat with such gusto, and Valentino wondered how she’d look eating something gooey, like ice cream. In bed. Naked. Her belly swollen with their baby.
‘Oh, I don’t blame you,’ Adele said. ‘Nicest coffee we ever had was in Italy, wasn’t it, darling? Where are you from exactly?’
They chatted for half an hour about Italy and travelling and McKenzie’s implant. Not that Peyton contributed much. After eating two muffins she dropped her head back against her chair and shut her eyes, letting the morning sunshine warm her skin as she digested.
She didn’t want to encourage Valentino; she didn’t want him too cosy with her family. Just because she’d agreed not to do anything rash, it didn’t mean they were one big happy family.
Despite his assurances of support, Peyton had been burnt before.
It was pleasant conversation but with Valentino charming her parents it was strangely irritating. As good as he was to look at, as amazing as he smelled this morning – like bakery and sunshine – she wished he would just go.
She was still working her head around the rollercoaster of yesterday.
Seeing that album again after not having looked at it for so long. Being sucked straight back into the tumult of that time. The anguish. Tears burning the backs of her eyes and welling over. Breaking down in his arms. And then learning about his own grief and sorrow.
About Daniella. Beautiful Daniella.
It had been a surprise how much it had pinched her heart to hear him talk about his long-ago ex in such hushed, awed tones. She’d clearly been a stunner and Peyton had found herself wondering what the hell he saw in her after Daniella.
But then what she’d done with their baby had been… unfair. And suddenly Valentino’s playboy reputation made sense. He’d evidently been trying to forget Daniella and what had happened, and who was she to judge how he dealt with his loss?
Just because she’d withdrawn completely didn’t mean it was the right way to cope.
Was there a book of etiquette somewhere that explained how a person was supposed to act when their whole world fell apart?
If there was, she’d not seen it.
His anguished expression as he’d told her everything came back to her now and she understood his vehemence over her pregnancy because she knew intimately how it felt to have a child taken away.
And in that moment, with their hands clasped together over her belly cradling the tiny life growing inside her, Valentino’s heartfelt assurances ringing in her ears, she’d known she couldn’t terminate.
Didn’t want to. Even terrified at the prospect of having another premi baby – or worse – she couldn’t do it to this baby she already loved more than life itself.
As she had loved Daisy and McKenzie from the second she’d known about them.
And looking at Valentino’s tormented face, she’d known she couldn’t hurt him either. Not like that. Not like he’d been hurt so badly before.
But she needed some time and space to get used to the idea. Not him turning up unannounced and uninvited looking all casually sexy in his chinos and open-necked shirt, his dimples screaming lazy Sunday. Especially with her in her usual baggy sweats and oversized T-shirt.
‘Excuse me for a moment.’ Peyton stirred as Valentino stood, her eyes fluttering open to find him looking at her mother. ‘Could you direct me to the bathroom?’
Her mother gave him directions and, despite wanting him to leave only seconds ago, Peyton suddenly felt lost without him. In her own damn house. Pulling out of her slouch, she steeled herself for the grilling she knew was coming.
Her mother went first. ‘I like him.’
‘You don’t know him.’
‘I’d known Arnie for two minutes and knew I didn’t like him.’
Touché.
Peyton glanced at her father smiling at her, his dimples blazing. ‘You’ve always been a sucker for men with dimples,’ her mother said.
Had she? When she looked back over her life prior to Arnie, the few boyfriends she’d had had indeed all been blessed with dimples. ‘Dimples do not maketh the man,’ Peyton grumbled.
Her mum smiled at her dad. ‘I would have to disagree with you there.’
Peyton shook her head, humbled as ever by her parents’ enduring love and affection for each other. ‘Well, you would.’
‘I’m just saying that I think he’s good for you.’ She reached across the table and squeezed Peyton’s hand. ‘Isn’t it about time you declared a truce on the men of the world? They’re not all like Arnie, darling.’
I’m not Arnie. Those were the words Valentino had said yesterday, his eyes blazing with sincerity and truth. And she’d believed him.
Peyton wondered, though, how her parents would feel if they knew that this Italian lothario they were so enamoured with had knocked up their daughter. Neither of her parents were keen for her to have any more children given what had happened with the twins.
Before she could speak, Valentino’s voice drifted to them and three pairs of eyes sought him out. He’d stopped to talk to McKenzie in the living room, the open doors to the deck giving them all a decent view.