Hardly a declaration of love, but she’d take it. “Sabato, there’s something I need to speak to you about.” A small frown marred her expression.
“Of course, Emily. What is it?” He would do whatever he could to take that little line on her forehead away. His phone began to ring, shrilly punctuating the air. He pulled it out, intending to decline the call. Only his best friend’s face came up on the screen. He shot her a look of apology. “My friend Andre. More like a brother, than a friend. I’m sorry, cara, I will be only a moment.”
Anxiety had made her heart stutter in her chest. “Of course.” She lifted her champagne simply for something to do. She ran her finger around the condensation, wondering if everything would always feel super-charged when she was with Sabato.
He was speaking in Italian, but his tone had become fast. His expression was sombre. “Si, subito,” he disconnected the call and looked at Emily with consternation.
“What is it?” She knew, instantly, that something was very wrong.
“Andre’s father was in a car accident. He’s in a coma.” He was conscious, when he spoke, that it must be invoking memories of her own mother’s loss.
But Emily was too sympathetic to think of herself at such a worrying time. “Oh, Sab. I’m so sorry.” She put a hand on his shoulder, stroking his warmth through the fabric of his jacket.
His dark eyes looked down at her with regret. “I have to go to him. He’s in Rome.”
Emily nodded. “Of course you do.”
“Come with me.”
Her lips were tight on her face; she wore a mask of determination that he was becoming frustratingly familiar with. “I’m here to do a job, Sabato.” She reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. We need to talk.”
“Yes, we do,” she said stoically. “But it can wait. Go to your friend.”
He nodded and hugged her quickly, before stalking away from her. Leaving her alone. Pregnant, alone and surrounded by the upper echelons of European society.
Great.
Chapter 9
Two days later and Emily had experienced just about as much birthday fun as she could muster. Nausea had come upon her suddenly, and was now her constant companion. The fragrance of perfume that the women were wearing made her wretch. Fortunately, she had been able to escape often enough, to work on her sketches.
And at least Sabato’s mother was a breath of fresh air. Spending time with her, sketching her portrait, was proving to be a very pleasant way to pass the weekend. For her part, Corinna had delighted in relaying story after story of Sabato’s childhood. Perhaps she identified Emily as someone with a keen interest in the subject matter, or perhaps the birthday was simply turning her reflective, but she detailed years of Sabato’s life and Emily
drank it all in thirstily.
Emily had sketched Corinna, and in her mind, Sabato’s character had been coloured in. She loved him, and all the more so for the way his adoptive mother described him. “The affair was very hard on him,” she surprised Emily by confiding during their final sitting.
Emily didn’t bother to feign ignorance. Instead, she nodded. “On everyone, I imagine.”
“Yes, but particularly Sabato.”
Emily swallowed. “Why do you think that is?”
Corinna’s smile was wistful. “Most children are raised with the certainty that their parents love them. It’s biology.” Emily thought of the baby snuggling inside of her, growing and becoming a part of the world with every day that passed. Yes, she loved it already. “But for Sabato, it’s not that way. His parents gave him up for adoption. And we chose to love him.”
“Yes,” Emily nodded, not quite understanding where Corinna was going.
The older woman smiled gently. “Well, dear, if you can choose to love someone, then surely you can choose, one day, not to love them. As he feared Nico was doing to me, when he had an affair.”
Emily’s heart turned over with pain for the man she loved. “So you think he felt he might lose his father, or you, or his brother, because he was adopted.”
Corinna shrugged her slender shoulders. “It is my fear and my guess. Only a guess, min you. Hi is a proud man, and he is naturally filled with the confidence of Kings. But deep down, at the very centre of his being, is the fear that comes from having been rejected once, by the people who were supposed to love him for all time.”
Emily’s face drained of all colour. She wished Sabato were there, so that she could pull him into her arms and tell him exactly how she felt. Pride be damned. He needed to know that love was a choice, and that she had chosen to love him. Tears moistened her eyes and she stared harder at her sketch block.
“We’re almost finished,” Emily changed the subject, her voice crackling with emotion