They’d been waiting for a sign that her memory would return. Angelo hadn’t let himself think about what would happen if it never did. About the complications that would ensue if he had to play the host until they discovered enough for her to take up her life again.
Yet, instead of looking delighted, her face was drawn and her eyelashes spiked with tears.
He squeezed her hand. ‘What did you remember, Ally? Your life? How you came here?’
She lifted her other hand to her face, wiping the back of it across her eyes the way a child would brush tears from her face.
‘Not that much. But it made me feel...’ Her mouth wobbled and for a horrible moment it looked as if she’d cry.
Angelo had never seen this woman cry in all the time he’d known her. Even faced with recriminations when her lies were exposed, she’d been defiant rather than broken, certain rather than upset. The sight of her blinking back tears tugged at something deep inside him.
Angelo moved closer and wrapped his arms around her. Ally’s head subsided against his shoulder, her hands clinging to his shirt as she sniffed.
‘Sorry. I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
She buried her face against his throat and he felt dampness on his skin. Despite all his caution Angelo also felt an upsurge of sympathy and protectiveness as he tightened his embrace. Whatever had happened, it had totally thrown her.
He held her firmly, feeling the tremors racking her body, the shaking breaths that heated his skin, the smudge of tears.
It felt different from any past embrace. He knew this woman and yet in this moment she felt unfamiliar.
No, that wasn’t it. His body cradled hers easily, as if the weight of her slim frame against him was the most natural thing. It was her distress that was unusual. His ex-wife had never displayed fear or sadness, just an unwavering certainty that she had a right to whatever she wanted.
‘Sorry, Angelo,’ she said again. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
She pulled back and, to his surprise, he was reluctant to release her.
Angelo tore his thoughts from that and focused on Ally. ‘What happened? Did you remember something bad?’
She shook her head, sniffing, and smoothed her hair back from her face in a gesture he remembered from the old days.
Strange how the sight of her doing that, while wearing the pretty floral dress and blinking back tears, messed with his head. As if the unwelcome past melded with the present.
‘No, nothing bad. That’s what I don’t understand. I should be happy to remember something, shouldn’t I? And it was a nice memory.’
She blinked tear-glazed eyes and Angelo thought he’d never seen anything so sad yet so beautiful.
‘Tell me about it.’ He took her hand again, rubbing his thumb rhythmically over the back of it, ignoring the thud of his heart against his ribs.
For a second longer her eyes locked on his, as if frantic for reassurance. Then she looked away and Angelo felt it as an abrupt release of tension.
‘It was the scent of the bread.’ She lifted her other hand and he realised she still held a piece of focaccia.
‘Rosetta is renowned for her baking.’ Though in the past his ex hadn’t indulged, too busy watching her intake of carbohydrates to eat even the best home-made bread.
‘Not the bread. The rosemary sprinkled on top. That’s what made me remember.’
She swallowed and it was easy to see she still battled strong emotion.
‘Go on.’
She flashed him a lopsided smile that hit him hard. It wasn’t practised or sultry but it was real, something Angelo found incredibly enticing.
He foundherincredibly enticing. Not because she aroused protective instincts but because of her enthusiasm, her air of honesty, her lively interest in so many things.
Angelo waited for the cynical inner voice to crush that idea but for once it was silent. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned.
‘I smelled the rosemary and it hit me. I remembered being on the veranda of a house, looking out over a garden. I was standing, pouring a rosemary hair rinse over a woman with white hair. My gran.’ Her voice wobbled on the last word. ‘I knew who she was even though I was behind her and couldn’t see her face. We were talking about how well the rinse had turned out. One of my best yet.’