Chapter Thirteen #2
Leo’s eyebrows shot up, just as Simone returned with a tray carrying a jug of water glasses and a small platter of antipasto.
She placed it on the table. Cocked her head at the expression of surprise on his brother’s face.
Then a look passed between the couple, a lifetime of conversations in a single glance.
Simone smiled at him. ‘Would you like to stay for lunch?’
Rocco looked to Leo for confirmation. The man gave him an almost imperceptible nod, but that was enough. ‘Grazie mille.’
‘Fair warning, Zanetti,’ Leo growled, yet he sounded more bark than bite. ‘You offer Simone a job again and all bets are off.’
Simone patted Leo on the shoulder. ‘I think you secretly loved finding creative ways to keep me so that Rocco never won.’
‘Ahh. You have me figured out yet again, tesoro.’
Simone laughed and Leo reached over and drew her close into the tender, honest kiss of a couple truly in love.
It opened a yawning ache in Rocco’s chest again at what he’d lost. Even sharing the same father as Rocco, and everything he had suffered, Leo had managed to accept his past. To move on and find happiness.
Lily.
Her name crept unbidden into his consciousness as it always did.
His life, his muse. The woman he’d pushed away out of fear and cowardice.
He’d spent so long denying love that he’d missed it, even when it had come and slapped him in the face.
But here, witnessing what Leo had, kindled the flame of hope deep inside of him.
That despite all that had happened, Rocco could still find the same for himself.
Lily sat at the reception desk of Max’s gallery.
She’d returned home to London after the confrontation with Rocco because it was familiar.
And in truth, there was nowhere else she could really go.
Rome held too many memories for her, and here in London, at least she knew the ground beneath her feet.
Max had taken her back immediately, even though there was no need.
Rocco had made a generous payment into Lily’s bank account, despite their prenuptial agreement not being finalised.
It meant that she could be comfortable, and her baby cared for.
But she’d wanted to work, unable to bear sitting around in an empty apartment with only her thoughts plaguing every day.
Lily touched her ever-growing belly. She’d done the right thing. She knew she had.
She deserved more, after kidding herself into believing that love wasn’t something she wanted.
That it was all about protecting her heart.
She’d thought she’d grown by leaving Richard, but she realised now that she hadn’t really grown at all.
She was still looking for someone to love her, that fragile little heart of hers.
Hoping that someone would finally see her.
And she’d hoped that person would be Rocco.
True growth had been walking away from the love of her life, because Richard had been nothing when compared to the depth and breadth of her feelings for Rocco.
The ache of that loss, relentless. She feared that all this sadness and the oceans of tears she’d cried were not great for her baby, but there was nothing she could do.
She’d fallen for Rocco, utterly and irrevocably.
But she also knew a relationship based on passion wasn’t enough.
Passion might feed her body, but love was what would have fed her soul.
Lily was self-aware enough to realise that if she’d stayed, she would have been crushed.
The woman in her who was afraid was the one who’d agreed to a marriage with no love, a marriage based on practicality.
But the woman she’d grown into wanted something more for herself—and especially for their child.
Maxine walked out of her office and stood next to Lily’s desk, sniffing at the parlous weather. The rain like oil on the gallery’s window. Everything distorted like a surrealist painting.
‘I wish I didn’t have to go out,’ Max said. ‘Are you okay to hold the fort for a little while without me?’
‘I’m fine. You go do your boss thing.’
Rocco had promised her a village, but she was starting to grow it for herself.
Max had promised her she was going to be the best ‘aunty’ the baby could have.
She’d checked out a few options for mother’s groups when the baby was born.
It would be okay. She’d find her place. She rested her hand on her stomach.
She had no option. Her baby was relying on her to.
A black car pulled up outside the gallery, and Max grabbed an umbrella out of the umbrella stand. ‘Well, that’s me. I’ll see you soon,’ she said, running out into the rain on her perilous heels.
The space fell into silence. Whilst the gallery was on a popular street, the weather kept everyone away today.
Lily hopped up from her desk and wandered round looking at the artwork in the blissful silence.
The featured artist was a sculptor whose designs were geometric and cut from marble, all cold, sharp lines.
So unlike Rocco’s work. Her fingers prickled at the memory of the smooth, warm wood.
The beautiful curves. The type of work you wanted to reach out and touch.
But even with his art, Rocco hid. It was as though he didn’t value himself enough to show the world what she’d seen; a talented, passionate man.
Lily opened the drawer of her reception desk, pulling out the ultrasound picture she kept there.
The scan taken three weeks earlier, which she’d done alone.
Tears running down her cheeks like the rain on the gallery’s window today.
Lily had asked the midwife if she could send an email to Rocco letting him know the scan had gone well and that the baby was developing as predicted.
She hadn’t been able to bear sending one herself.
The midwife had agreed. Lily hadn’t heard anything back. She hated that she’d been hoping to, but what did she expect? Rocco had made himself clear, and so had she.
Seeing the picture of their baby reminded Lily that her bladder was the size of a pea.
She stood and walked to the front door, flipping the Back in five minutes sign and locking the door.
Out back she looked at herself in the mirror, patted water on her face.
Looking pale again. The tiredness having returned.
All those second trimester hormones she’d been enjoying had abandoned her.
She pinched her cheeks a bit to encourage some color to return then left to run the gallery again, heading to the door and turning the sign back to Open.
A tall, dark shape moved from under the awning of the antique shop next door.
Broad-shouldered in an overcoat, beneath an umbrella.
She moved back to her desk to check some emails when the figure walked past the plate glass window of the gallery and came to the door of the gallery with a lazy, rolling stride.
Her mouth dried. Heart beating frantically in her chest, because there was no mistaking the man’s walk. His imposing shape. There was only one person in the world it could be.
Rocco.
Rocco had heard of someone being a balm to your soul. He’d never understood what those words meant until he saw Lily again. She sat in the cavernous white space, dwarfed behind an equally large white marble desk, staring at him as if she’d seen someone returned from the dead.
He closed the umbrella from the miserable London rain, tapped it off on the tiled entryway and pushed the door, which opened with a cheery tinkle.
Lily was dressed in a dark suit, her hair up in a polished bun, looking entirely unlike the ingenue from the ball, or the brave woman who had turned up to his door announcing she was pregnant and then collapsing in his arms.
What fortitude it must have taken for her to come and find him then.
To approach a stranger in a foreign country with that news, not knowing what his reaction might be, but knowing it was the right thing to do.
Could he be as brave as her? Show this woman his heart, uncertain of her answer?
She’d been right to call him a coward. He’d been afraid to give Lily his heart because he’d believed it was for the best. Then he’d pushed her away when she’d offered him everything.
He would deserve it if she never forgave him, but Rocco sought to make some amends regardless. He’d started on the path with Leo and hoped to finish the journey with Lily, if she’d have him.
Water dripped from his overcoat and his umbrella, peppering the floor.
He’d wanted everything to be perfectly aligned before coming to London and seeking Lily out, so there were no missteps.
Then he’d received an email from a midwife, attaching a scan of their baby.
A grainy black-and-white picture of their tiny child in profile.
It had almost cleaved him in two, what he was missing out on.
His hesitation more evidence of his cowardice.
Rocco’s regret at not being by Lily’s side at that scan had been eviscerating, although the obstetrician he’d consulted had told him there would be another at around eighteen weeks.
Now, that was in only a few weeks’ time.
So he’d worked diligently to ensure that he could be there for it, that everything would be ready for the life he wanted to create for himself.
In the process, he’d become sure of his heart. He owed Lily that absolute certainty.
But seeing her now, every word he’d planned stuck in his throat. Would she believe anything he said after he’d admitted he’d lied to her? Especially after promising her the truth. He didn’t know, yet all he could do was try.
‘Rocco, what are you doing here?’