Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
HE WATCHED HER PLAYING with Jack across the terrace, a rock in his gut. He’d been so sure, last night, that he was doing the right thing. Clearly spelling out where he was at and what he wanted. He’d been so sure she’d see the sense in what he was proposing and agree to keep things as they were.
Simple. Satisfying. Pleasurable.
She hadn’t.
“I need to sleep. And think.” Her smile had been tightly dismissive. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”
What could he do? He’d put the ball in her court and she was holding on to it. He’d nodded curtly, resisted the impulse to kiss her goodnight – knowing a kiss would inevitably lead to her curling her hands around his neck, pulling his head lower, to her wanting more and him needing more.
So he’d shrugged and smiled and walked from the room, wondering at the sense of misgiving in his belly.
“Count with me,” she smiled at their son, a natural smile that reminded him of the first night they’d met, when she’d laughed so freely. He ran a finger around the top of his glass and pushed the newspaper aside.
“One,” the little boy placed a block on the tiles of the terrace and Elodie nodded encouragingly, taking another block and placing it on top of the first.
“Two,” they said in unison.
Her grin widened. Something in the region of Fiero’s heart opened up.
“Three.” The next block found its place.
“Four.”
He wanted their son to know Italian, too. That would come, surely, being surrounded by Italian speakers, here in Rome. Elodie would need to learn the language too.
The idea had him sitting up a little straighter, the sudden movement drawing Elodie’s quick glance, her eyes resting on his face, a frown tugging at her lips, all of the joy of a moment ago gone.
His gut wrenched.
“Mama?”
She jerked her gaze back to Jack, the smile forced. “Right. Where were we?” She reached for another block and placed it on the top. “Four.”
“No,” she murmured kindly, and pointed to the bottom. “One, two, three, four…”
She watched their son expectantly. Something glinted in his eyes, a dimple scoring deep in one cheek, and he lifted his hand to the middle of the tower of blocks and swiped at them. “Crash,” he grinned, and Elodie laughed, reaching for him and tickling his sides.
“Oh, you are a cheeky monkey, aren’t you, little Master?”
Fiero stood, his ribs feeling as though they were being cracked wide open. Jack was his son. And she, Elodie was…a beautiful mother.
His eyes swept shut; he turned away from them for a moment, uncertainty shifting through him. She’d been here a little over a week, and he’d promised her six months. How the hell was he going to endure this?
All of his calmly laid out plans of the night before evaporated.
He no longer knew what made sense.
“There is a playground near here. Let’s go and see it.”
He chose not to turn around to face her. Something strange was happening to him, it was as though his being was being unstitched, piece by piece.
“Do you mean now?”
“Si. Andiamo.”
It was a warm day. Hot and cloying but with the hint of a breeze shifting through Rome’s ancient, cobbled streets.
The Via Condotti – famous for its exclusive boutiques and restaurants – was only a few minutes walk from Fiero’s home – in one direction – but in the other, there was this: winding, beautiful streets lined with buildings.
Each was painted an earthy colour and the walls were an uneven texture, bumpy and gnarled, so she wanted to run her hands over them and feel their stories.
Little pops of colour relieved those earthy tones: red geraniums tumbling from the window boxes, potted plants stuffed with lavenders and herbs and the smell of basil was sweet in the summer’s air.
A gelataria was set up in a small caravan at the end of the strada on which they walked and as they passed it, Jack clapped his little hands together. “Ice cream! Ice cream!”
Fiero crouched down, his jeans straining over his muscular thighs so Elodie had to look away because the sight was doing something funny to her tummy.
Not something funny – something familiar.
She was so aware of how those legs felt, pinning her to the mattress, the wall, straddling her – strong and masculine. She looked away.
“Would you like a gelati?” He spoke in Italian but she understood because the last word gave the question context.
Jack however stared in wonder at these strange words, his little expression almost seeming overwhelmed.
Fiero repeated his question, more slowly, and this time, with gestures.
First he pointed at Jack, and then at the shop, and then towards the colourful ice creams. Each one was artfully arranged, scooped high in its tray with a haphazard pattern, and their tops were adorned with more of their flavours.
The nocciolo had hazelnuts sprinkled across it, the banana was the same, citrus slices adorned the limone.
“That one!” Jack pointed to the chocolate, with its glossy dark brown colour and cubes of chocolate arranged on top.
Fiero grinned so Elodie’s heart thumped into her chest so hard it hurt, then he stood, pinning her with the same smile. “And you?” He prompted, something unspoken in the depths of his eyes.
She swallowed, shaking her head on autopilot before reconsidering.
It was so hot, and the gelati all looked so good.
She rarely indulged in sweets, but suddenly, she wanted something.
She hovered above the display, scanning to see what they had on offer, before selecting a scoop of strawberry.
They watched as the young man behind the counter spooned the ice cream into small, paper cups, then handed them over.
Fiero was reaching for his wallet but Elodie shook her head.
“I’ll get it.” She pulled some euro from her pocket and slid them across the top of the counter before Fiero could say anything. She was conscious of the way he was watching her though, his eyes heavy on her face. They turned and walked, Jack concentrating on getting the chocolate into his mouth.
“You have euro.”
Elodie jerked her gaze to Fiero’s in surprise. “Yeah. Why?”
“I didn’t think about this, that you would need local currency.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Yeah. I went and got cash out.”
He nodded, but there was a look on his face, a look that was part disconcerted. “When?”
“Um, Tuesday, I think?”
Another nod, but his frown was deepening. “I should have organised this. I’m sorry.”
It was so absurd, she almost laughed. “You threatened to send me home without my son but you’re apologising for overlooking the fact I’d need euro?”
She had the satisfaction of seeing his features tighten, his eyes flash with something she couldn’t comprehend.
“Believe it or not,” she didn’t push her point. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know that.” Again, a look of consternation crossed his face.
“You’re surprised?” They began to walk once more, Jack between them with a broad smile on his face as he lifted scoop after generous scoop of ice cream into his mouth.
He was doing well, but Elodie scanned the street, her eyes landing on a bench seat across the road.
“Let’s sit while he eats,” she murmured.
Fiero nodded, his expression still taut.
Once Jack was settled on the bench, in the middle of both of his parents, Fiero spoke. “I’m surprised I overlooked it, not that you sourced your own cash.”
“Why would you think it’s your place to arrange money for me?” She tasted her own gelati – it was delicious. The sun was warm around them, the air thick with summer, and ice cream was the perfect antidote to that.
“You’re here as my guest,” he said after a beat.
“Not your hostage?” She couldn’t help responding, and was pleased to see his expression tighten. He was uncomfortable about threatening to take Jack away. Good. So he should be!
He turned to look at her though and her sense of satisfaction evaporated. There was steel in his eyes. “You’re free to leave at any point.”
Her stomach rolled, as though she’d fallen out of a high rise. She jerked her head away, stabbing her gelati with the spoon and quickly filling her mouth with the ice cream, as an excuse not to answer, not to respond. What could she say to that?
Without Jack? No, not ever. But it wasn’t so simple as even that. Sleeping with Fiero had changed something inside of her, and now the idea of going back to London – even with Jack at her side – seemed wrong and unwelcome.
This wasn’t fair – not even a little bit. She felt as though nothing made sense anymore.
“How do you feel?” The question speared deep inside of her, because she had no idea how to answer it. Confused. Angry. Hurt. Sad. “You seem to have recovered completely?”
“Oh, right.” He was talking about the accident.
She swallowed, glad for the conversation change, glad she could concentrate on facts rather than the turmoil that was living inside of her now.
“Fine. My ankle gets a bit stiff in the evenings, but only if I’ve walked a lot that day.
The doctor said general aches and pains are normal while I’m getting back to normal. ”
He nodded without looking at her. “I’ll never forget the sight of you in the hospital bed that day.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You were so broken, your face so bruised.”
Knowing that he’d seen her like that ripped a part of her open anew; a sense of vulnerability sliced through her.
“I wish…” She shook her head. What had she been intending to say?
She wished that he hadn’t seen her like that?
That the hospital hadn’t called him? She followed that thought through, imagined how different this would all have been – imagined what would have happened to Jack, and knew that she wouldn’t change a thing.
“I’m glad you were there. For Jack.” The words were hoarse – how could they be anything else?
Emotions were overflowing inside of her.
Only it brought them back to the pain of that discovery, to the fact she hadn’t told him about Jack, to the betrayal he felt.