Chapter 11
Over the next few weeks, Dante was more giving of his time and body, his lovemaking leaving her wanting more like an addict craving her next fix.
She couldn’t wait to hear the purr of his Porsche pulling up in front of the villa each afternoon.
Her body recognized the sound and knew the pleasure that would follow as they indulged in heart-stopping, exquisite “afternoon delight.”
With him, her life was so blissful it seemed almost unreal.
The only blip on her radar was the same problem they’d always had. Dante refused to slow down. He worked long hours and kept her at arm’s length where his business was concerned.
Dante’s passion was work, and it irked her that he still didn’t trust her enough to share a very important part of his life. Why did he continue to shut her out?
She stopped chewing the pencil with an exasperated sigh.
Abby told herself to stop procrastinating.
She had a lot of work to get through this afternoon before her walk with Nana, and then her dinner at Il Casino restaurant with Dante.
She shifted uneasily in her chair, tried to suppress the guilt that was making her feel slightly sick, and opened her laptop.
She knew she should tell Dante that she was still working, even though her bookstore was in Southport.
Dante had never supported her desire to work.
He was old-fashioned, wanting his wife at home.
Colin and the manager who’d been employed by Dante to oversee her “little bookstore” didn’t think to report to Dante about the online side of her business. The man obviously assumed she had told Dante, since she was running things as usual.
Her queasiness intensified. Dante hadn’t asked about the store so she hadn’t volunteered any information.
Not telling him was wrong and she knew it.
She looked furtively around the study, worried he was reading the screen over her shoulder.
She suppressed shivers of unease. Relax.
He was at work and wouldn’t be home for ages.
Today was like many days. Her grandmother rested during the heat of the day. Then they would take a walk through the vineyard in the mildness of the autumn afternoon. She needed something to do each day. She refused to sit waiting for Dante to spare her his time.
Her grandmother had been instructed to walk every day, and she was making remarkable progress.
Right at this moment, Nana was busy teaching Rachele how to make pavlova, and with Dante out of the villa, Abby wanted this opportunity to check on business and ensure that the latest reviews had been loaded by her at-home book reviewers.
Abby chewed her bottom lip, angry with herself for not having the guts to tell Dante the truth.
She knew why she waited to tell him. She hoped to prove how well she could cope with family, him, and her own business.
Then perhaps he’d relent and let her continue to run the online side of On the Shelf, even when she had a child.
Her heart gave a small lurch. Child. She placed a hand on her stomach, wondering if, even now, a tiny spark of life was growing.
Her body flooded with warmth at the idea of their child.
She couldn’t think of a better house to raise a child in, full of love and family, or a better father for her baby.
Dante would move heaven and earth to ensure their child was loved, protected, and provided for.
She smiled. He’d likely spoil the children rotten.
“You look happy.”
Engrossed in her happy family vision, Abby hadn’t heard Nana enter. She beamed at her grandmother. “I am.”
“Dante looks happy, too. Or should I say satisfied.” Her grandmother ignored her blush.
“I bet he’s disappointed you’ve got your appointment this afternoon.
There’s no reason for him to come home early.
Katarina told me she’s never known her son to spend so much time away from work. I told her he’s making up for lost—”
“Damn.” Abby shut down her computer and gathered her papers. “Sorry to interrupt, Nana, but I completely forgot about my appointment.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“What on earth for?” Her grandmother’s look of pity strengthened Abby’s backbone. “I’m only going in for a chat and an ultrasound. It’s nothing.”
“You can’t lie to me. We both hate hospitals. Besides, I want to hear if the doctor’s initial diagnosis is correct.”
Abby didn’t stop what she was doing, hoping her grandmother didn’t notice the flinch in her shoulders. “Endometriosis? If it is endo, it’s not the end of the world, Nana.”
Her grandmother stilled her hand. “I hope that is all it is. The idea of you sick—”
“I’m fine. Really. Don’t upset yourself.”
Her grandmother’s stricken look faded and she hugged Abby tight. “I know. But I like that I have someone to worry over.” She stepped back. “Pietro’s bringing the car around for you. I knew I’d have to remind you. Sometimes when your laptop’s open, you forget everything but your business.”
She kissed her nana’s cheek as she brushed past. “Tell Pietro I won’t be long.” She ran up the stairs to freshen up before driving into Florence for her doctor’s appointment.
“I’m almost one hundred percent sure of my diagnosis, but only a laparoscopic operation will confirm endometriosis. I’ll get the nurse to schedule a procedure, and if I find any lesions I’ll laser them off.” Dr. Molinari looked pleased with himself.
Abby at last had an understanding of why she’d been in so much pain during her menstrual cycle. She was suffering from endometriosis. If they could do something to minimize the pain she’d be pleased.
“We’ll try to fit you in as soon as possible.”
“That would be fabulous. My husband and I are trying for a child.”
The doctor’s head lifted and he stared at her with a pitying look.
“Do you know much about this condition?”
She shook her head.
He looked toward the nurse beside him and they shared a look. He pulled out a pamphlet and handed it to her. “Please read as much about the condition as possible. I’m sorry to have to inform you, but depending on the lesions and damage, some women find it difficult or near impossible to conceive.”
Her heart stuttered, she couldn’t have heard correctly. Did he just say she might not be able to conceive? But she was only twenty-three years old.
“Depending on the amount of inflammation and scar tissue, you may even need a hysterectomy.” At her anguished cry, he added, “That’s worst-case scenario.
But even so, it may be difficult for an egg to reach your ovaries.
Alternatively, we often find that the lining of the uterus is thinner in women with endometriosis, and this may make it difficult for the embryo to implant.
” He must have seen the shock on her face.
“But until I do the laparoscopic procedure we won’t know more. ”
The nurse took her ice-cold hand in hers. “It is a shock, no? But let’s not dwell on what could be until the doctor has examined you internally.”
“So I might be fine?”
The doctor said nothing. The nurse merely gave her a worried look.
“Oh, one more thing. If you do find out you’re pregnant, you must come for a scan immediately. There is a higher risk of ectopic pregnancies.”
She looked at the calm faces sitting in front of her and wanted to smash their pitying looks. They spoke as if they were telling her she simply had the common cold. What they were telling her shattered her life into a million pieces of hurt. She might not be able to have children.
Dante’s children.
Her children.
Their children.
Once Dante bought Paulo Zanetti’s company, all he’d want her for was to provide him with a son. She put her hand over her mouth to stop the bile escaping. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
The nurse handed her a bowl and she threw up.
She closed her eyes on the pain. Dante. She’d have to tell Dante.
Would he think she’d deceived him? Would he ask her to leave?
Tears welled in her eyes and she struggled to hold them back.
“If I have the operation will it improve my chances of having children?”
“Yes, usually it helps by as much as forty percent.”
He was talking cold percentages when she had to deal with real emotions. Her world was crumbling around her, and she had no one to share it with.
“Look, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s wait and see what I discover. You might find you have a mild case. Pain doesn’t signify—one lesion in a painful position may mean a mild case or a more complicated one. Try not to worry.”
Try not to worry! She might never have a child. Suddenly, all she wanted was to have Dante’s child. She choked back a sob. She needed some fresh air.
The minute she emerged from her appointment at the hospital, Abby sent the car home without her.
She told the driver she wanted to do some shopping and would take a cab home.
She didn’t know how she’d kept her composure when the smiling driver asked if she wanted him to come back and fetch her and her purchases.
She couldn’t go back and face the interrogation.
Not yet. She was still too upset to be a good liar.
Her grandmother would be able to read her like an open book.
So she walked around the Florence piazza, too shocked to even notice the grandeur and romance of the square.
Usually she would drink in the statues, the majestic buildings, and the history, and life would feel good.
Today nothing was going to make her feel good, not after the diagnosis she’d been given.