Yes.
She had felt that it was a beginning, when really it had been an end.
For what purpose did their marriage serve now? There was no love. And no baby.
And no point in her staying in Venice with Matteo.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘YOU MUST EAT SOMETHING.’
Skye didn’t smile, though a part of her remembered the number of times he’d said just that to her. But then she’d been pregnant, and his concern had made sense. He’d been worried for their baby.
Now?
She shook her head. It wasn’t his place to worry about her.
In the three days since the miscarriage, she’d survived on tea and dry biscuits, and she’d barely moved from her spot on the sofa. She stared out at Venice, but she wasn’t really looking. She was simply existing.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she said, because Matteo seemed to be waiting for her to say something.
‘But your body is recovering. You must be strong and well, Skye.’
‘Why?’ she asked, though it wasn’t really a question, so much as a word that was breathed out by her sigh.
‘Because. I need you to be well.’
Skye didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. ‘Why?’
He crouched beside her and pressed a hand into her thigh. ‘Because you are my wife.’
She flinched, as though he’d threatened her. ‘No.’
Matteo was very quiet, watching her for several long seconds, and then he abandoned the conversation. Not out of a desire to avoid it, but out of a need to avoid upsetting her further. He could see her breath becoming rushed and her cheeks flushing pink. He let it go, for the moment. ‘Would you like a tea?’
‘No.’ She turned to face him now. There was nothing familiar in Skye’s face. She was altered and broken, completely different. He could hardly recognise the woman he’d married. Her face was pale and her hair was heavy and lank. Her eyes, though, were so full of darkness and aching sadness.
His chest squeezed, as though it had been weighed down with something heavy.
‘If you have the papers redrawn, I’ll sign the hotel over to you before I leave.’
Matteo froze, his body tense, his expression incomprehensible. ‘Before you leave? Where are you planning to go, Skye?’
She turned away from him again, staring out at Venice. It was annoyingly perfect beyond the window. Sunny and bright, with blue skies as far as she could see. ‘Home. I want to go home.’
His tone had urgency. ‘You are home.’
She swallowed, her throat moving visibly. ‘No.’
‘We’re married and we live—’
She spoke over him. ‘Without the baby, there’s no point to my being here.’
‘Yes, there is!’ He was emphatic. ‘My God, Skye. This doesn’t change anything. It’s...it is all the more reason for you to stay. I want to... You can’t leave. I want us to be together. I want to have a family with you, Skye, one day. This wasn’t the right time. This wasn’t meant to be. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have other babies one day—’
‘Don’t!’ The word was a sharp hiss and she recoiled as she said it. Recoiled from him and his words, from each and every platitude designed to make her feel better but which had the exact opposite effect. ‘God, just don’t.’
‘Cara,’ he said softly. ‘You are hurting. So am I. It will take time before we feel like ourselves again...’