He shook his head slowly. ‘We lost the baby, Cara. I’m sorry.’
We. His face was expressionless, but he’d said we—almost as if we had wanted it. His eyes were unreadable but it all came back to Cara in a rush. An aching sob was building up inside her, a well of loneliness and grief so acute that she didn’t know if she could contain it. Part of that was down to his obvious acceptance of the baby as his, but just too late.
Her voice trembled ominously with the force of her emotion. ‘Get out, Vicenzo. Get out.’
‘Cara…’
Cara reacted with every pent-up emotion to the way he said her name. ‘You are the last person in the world I want to see or speak to right now, Vicenzo. Get out.’
He didn’t move for a long moment, and Cara willed him to go with everything in her body. She needed to be alone.
As if answering her silent prayer, Vicenzo finally left. Cara turned her head to the opposite wall and cried her heart out for the baby which had been conceived against all the odds. But she knew that she was also crying for something else much darker and more disturbing. This was it. Vicenzo Valentini wouldn’t hesitate to cast her out of his life now. And Cara cried even harder as she acknowledged that living with Cormac had taught her nothing about valuing herself—because how could she be so distraught that such a tenuous and twisted connection was finally broken between her and a man who despised her?
Vicenzo paced outside Cara’s hospital room, as if that might help mitigate the swirling feelings threatening to implode within him. The way she’d looked at him just now had cut right through him, banishing even the smallest doubt that might have lingered as to whether or not the baby was his. He’d never felt so open, so flayed. He knew he’d not truly acknowledged the reality of Cara having his baby. He’d blocked it out through sheer will, because the possibility of the existence of his child in the world had threatened every emotional defence he’d erected over the years. But he couldn’t deny it any longer. And now it was too late.
He felt a surge of emotion rip upwards through him, stunning him with its force because he’d been suppressing it. It was the same awful, angry and helpless feeling he’d got when he’d looked down at the body of his dead sister. It was grief. And for a second it washed through him like a tidal wave, threatening to wipe away everything in its midst. He hadn’t accepted his own baby.
And what was even more disturbing in the wake of that thought was an urge so strong it was primal, visceral, and took him completely by surprise. It was the instinctive feeling he’d had when he’d so reluctantly believed Cara was carrying his child. Now it was the need to rectify what had happened, to restore the balance. That shook him up more than anything, because for the first time he had to admit to a yearning feeling for something he’d always strenuously denied.
The doctor’s words came back to haunt Vicenzo as he stood there, reeling: she’d have to have been under extreme stress to provoke such a result as this.
His wife. His baby. His fault.
CHAPTER NINE
CARA was shutting everything out but the dull pain that rested inside her. The doctor had explained that there was nothing anyone could have done. It was just one of those things, and there was no reason why she couldn’t go on to have a perfectly normal and healthy pregnancy as soon as she and her husband felt like trying again.
The dull pain got more acute at the though
t of such a scenario, and how a secret part of her felt ambiguous about that. She was moving methodically back and forth across her bedroom, packing up her small inconsequentials. After a couple of days recovering in the hospital Vicenzo had driven her home from there just a short time before. He’d attempted to talk to her a few times over the past two days, but she’d stonewalled him every time. She couldn’t bear, on top of everything else, to be faced with his pity.
It surprised her how much grief she felt for the tiny being she’d lost. The minute she’d discovered she was pregnant a deep, abiding love had taken her by storm. It had been strong enough for her to go and confront Vicenzo—which was the biggest mistake she’d ever made.
Cara sat on the bed heavily for a moment, her churning thoughts inward. Her pregnancy had compelled her to go after Vicenzo. But suddenly the alternative, of not having discovered she was pregnant and essentially not having had a reason to go after him, filled her inexplicably with a pain so sharp it lanced her insides. She gasped with it just as her door opened and Vicenzo walked in. Seeing him right now was too much, as nebulous tendrils of revelations made her feel exposed. Cara forced the feeling down and stood up.
He looked stern and forbidding and also…worn around the edges. A little shell-shocked. But Cara was still too shocked herself to really focus on him. All she knew was that she had to get away. He took in the small case on the bed.
‘What are you doing?’
Was it her imagination, or did his voice sound strained? Cara couldn’t look. She was nearly done, and started zipping up the bag. ‘What does it look like, Vicenzo? I’m leaving. There’s no reason for this sham of a—’
‘Cara—’
Cara whirled around, sudden anger galvanising her. ‘Don’t you Cara me. I know what that word means here, and I’m no darling of yours. Ironically enough, where I come from Cara means friend. But you’re certainly no friend of mine either. So don’t you dare say it like…in that tone of voice.’
He stepped forward, and to Cara’s utter shame she could feel emotion welling inexorably upwards. It was the emotion she’d been holding back every time she’d felt his eyes on her, every time he’d attempted to speak to her. Her anger with him was very fragile. She had to hold onto it, couldn’t let the emotion spill out. Or it would destroy her even more than the miscarriage.
She put out a hand as if to stop him. ‘Please don’t,’ she all but begged him, and stepped back, stopping when she felt the bed at the back of her knees.
Vicenzo kept coming closer and closer, an intense expression on his face, his eyes riveted to hers. And then he was so close that she could smell him, feel his heat reach out to envelop her, and the brittle shell that had kept her going since leaving the hospital cracked wide open. The emotion erupted on a choking sob and everything became blurry as tears flooded her eyes and flowed hotly down her cheeks.
Before she could collapse Vicenzo was there, tugging her into him, wrapping strong arms of steel around her and holding her as if he’d never let her go again.
When Cara’s sobbing had turned into hiccuping she realised that they were sitting on the edge of the bed, and that his shirt was drenched. She began to pull back. To her intense relief he released her. She couldn’t look at him, and the hiccups were still coming. Out of nowhere he passed her a tissue, and Cara moved back and blew her nose loudly. She wiped at her eyes. Her whole face felt puffy and raw.
‘I’m sorry—’
‘No.’