Chapter 9 #2
She took another scoop of gelati, wondering at the mess she’d found her way into. She’d been so sure raising Jack on her own was the right decision, but the more she’d got to know Fiero, to see him with Jack, the more that certainty had eroded, so now she was left with a torrent of doubts.
“Jack.” His face shifted and their eyes locked over their son’s head. Her throat felt raw with unshed tears. “Where does his name come from?”
“You don’t like it?”
His frown was just a flicker in his face. “On the contrary, it suits him.”
She forced herself to relax. There was no point seeing attacks in everything he said, accusations and blame.
He was making conversation without agenda.
He was asking questions about their son, just like he said he would.
He wanted to know everything. “It was my father’s name,” she breathed slowly, making a conscious effort to relax.
“I hadn’t really thought about it, but when I first held him in my arms, it just felt right. ”
Fiero nodded. “It’s a strong name. Wilful. Confident. I like it.”
His approval warmed her. “Me too.”
She tousled Jack’s hair on autopilot, her smile distracted. “He was a strong baby. He did everything early. Lifting his head. Rolling over. Crawling. Standing. He’s always been determined to move, to explore the world on his own.”
“It can’t have been easy for you, recovering from his delivery and being on your own, on the other side of the world.”
“No,” she agreed. “It’s funny, I didn’t exactly have a plan in mind when I left Australia.
I thought I’d travel. Clear my head.” Her expression was wistful.
“After mum and dad died, I just needed to get away. Everything reminded me of them – not in a good way. In the ‘I failed them’ kind of way. I couldn’t bear it.
I couldn’t bear to slip back into my old life, my old job, putting my energies into the things that had seemed so vitally important before they died, knowing how much I’d let them down. ”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself for this,” he murmured.
She had another scoop of gelati, thinking back to that time in her life. “The thing is, I didn’t really have any great friends in Australia, no one who would have helped me with a baby. It’s not as though going home would have made things easier.”
“Surely there must have been someone?”
She shook her head. “I worked such long hours. Most of my friendships from high school and university fell by the wayside and my work friendships were kind of superficial. I told you, I focussed on my career to the exclusion of all else.”
“Relationships?”
“You mean with guys?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Or women, if that’s your thing.”
She smiled. “Not that I know of.” She sobered. “I mean, I dated. Nothing serious. I get bored easily.”
He turned to face her and now there was heat in his eyes, a heat that sparked low down in her abdomen. “I beg to differ.”
She bit back what it had been on the tip of her tongue to say – that he was different. His ego didn’t need the praise and she didn’t welcome the admission, even to herself. His eyes probed hers and it was as though a spotlight was pointing at her, highlighting every dip and crevice of her soul.
She shifted a little in the seat, turning to look at the ancient streetscape, noting the sweep of the road, the cobbled pavers laid eons ago, the flowers tumbling from window boxes.
A little way down, a man and woman walked arm in arm, their faces close, their smiles broad. Something pulled in Elodie’s chest.
Envy.
Envy of their happy, relaxed, enamoured state. Envy of the love that obviously surrounded them.
She turned back to Fiero. He was looking at the couple as well, his expression inscrutable. “Why did your marriage break up?”
The question had his eyes shifting back to hers. “Many reasons.”
“That’s not fair,” she murmured softly. “I’ve answered all of your questions.”
“That was the deal we made.”
She swallowed, acid in her mouth. The feeling of being on tenterhooks was not one she relished.
She stood abruptly, walking across the street and putting what remained of her gelati in the bin.
When she returned to the seat, she didn’t meet Fiero’s eyes and she didn’t sit down, instead, she stayed where she was, hovering a couple of feet away, the distance feeling strangely important.
Frustration was pummelling her. Frustration at their uneven footing, at the way he was so in control, like a closed book, determined to feel certain things and then nothing, determined to keep himself at arm’s length from her gnawing at her insides.
Even his proposition the night before had been so tempered and calm, like a business proposal, the clear delineations between sex and sanity ones he felt comfortable keeping.
She jammed her hands in the pockets of her denim skirt, looking around the corner. They’d wandered for quite a while and she had no idea where they were, but suddenly, she was impatient to be home. “We should get Jack back to the villa. He’s had a big morning.”
“He’s fine. We’re almost at the playground.”
Great. Just what she needed. She bit down on her lip, the emotions exploding through her proving almost impossible to control. “Why don’t you take him? I’m feeling a bit tired.”