‘I’m teasing. I know you’re tired. I am too. It was a long day.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not that. I want to go back to Sicily with you.’
He felt a rush of relief. Of course. That was why she was on edge. Seeing his mother had made her homesick. But it was easily fixed. He wasn’t willing to see Cesare, but he could visit friends while she saw her father.
‘That’s fine. We can fly back tomorrow. We can stay for a couple of days—’
She hesitated. ‘I don’t mean for a visit. I want to move back. To live there. With you.’
‘That would be a hell of a commute,’ he said lightly.
Glancing down, he saw t
he tension, the hope in her eyes, and felt his stomach clench.
‘What’s brought this on?’
‘I suppose it was seeing your mamma. It made me think about things...about what we’re doing...’
He felt suddenly short of breath. ‘I know it’s hard, having to pretend. I hated lying to her too.’
‘But that’s just it. I wasn’t lying,’ she said slowly.
His heart was beating out of time. ‘I don’t understand—’
Except he did. He knew what she was saying even if she hadn’t said the words—he could read it in her eyes.
Looking down into her face, he felt a sudden rush of panic. Her eyes were wide with hope, with trust.
With love.
‘You said you’d give me a year so I could find out what I wanted. But I don’t need a year, Vicè. I already know what I want. I want us to go back to Sicily together.’
He held her gaze. ‘I have a business here—a life. I can’t just go back to Sicily.’
‘I thought we could run your father’s business together.’
Once upon a time that had been his dream. For a fraction of a second he saw the warm olive groves in his head...could almost feel the dry ground beneath his feet. And then he pictured his father’s face, the reassuring smile that hid the disappointment in his heart. He couldn’t face seeing that same disappointment on Imma’s face.
‘I don’t want to do that, cara. That’s why I live here.’
She looked confused—no, more than confused...crushed.
‘But... I just... I thought you—We—Your mother—’
He shook his head. ‘My mother misses the past. She misses my father. But I’m not my father.’
He felt suddenly furious with Imma. Why was she doing this? Saying these things. Everything had been just fine. Why did she have mess it up?
‘I love my life as it is,’ he said stiffly.
She jerked back, as though he had hit her, and he knew that her pain was as real as if he had hit her. He knew because the pain in his chest hurt so badly it was making him feel ill.
‘This year is about helping you. I wanted to do you a favour, that’s all,’ he lied.
For a moment she seemed too stunned to speak, and then slowly she frowned. ‘I don’t think I need your help, actually. I can manage just fine on my own.’
The hurt in her voice made his body tense. ‘I’m sorry, Imma.’