“What was the complication?”
“A rare blood pressure problem. They were worried I was going to have a stroke.”
He looked to relax a little, despite the seriousness of this. “But he was fine?”
“Yeah. He could have stayed in there cooking another month but I probably would have died.”
He was quiet, as though he wanted to say something, but when he didn’t, she continued.
“Anyway, the first few months were actually pretty great. Exhausting in that way new-babies are, but he fed well, slept well, smiled often. He’s still got a great temperament. But he’s definitely ‘on the go’ all the time.All the time,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I hope you’re paying Emilia well.”
“Of course.” But he smiled, and when their eyes met, it felt like a bottle of champagne had been opened inside her tummy. Bubbles fizzed against her flesh. It was breath-taking and distracting and she couldn’t look away.
“I’m impressed you managed to work without any help with Jack.”
“I only took on the projects I could manage,” she demurred. “And I did have some help.”
“Oh? A nursery school?”
“No, Axel, my landlord. He’s the opposite to me – the oldest of eight siblings, he grew up holding babies and entertaining toddlers. I honestly don’t know if I would have been able to keep such a level head if he hadn’t been around.”
Silence.
The bubbles in her tummy stilled. Fiero’s face was thunderous all of a sudden, so that it was impossible to believe he’d been smiling a moment ago, looking at her with a hint of admiration for how she’d managed on her own for so long.
“It should never have rested on another man to raise my child.” He stood then, pulling himself away from her in every way – mentally and physically distancing himself.
She winced at her insensitivity; at the way she’d made it sound. Pulling her feet from the water with unconscious grace, she stood, placing a hand on his chest without thinking about the gesture. He stilled, his body like a rock. “He didn’traiseJack. He helped me out from time to time, not often. He’s a friend – a good friend – but not a father-substitute.”
Fiero’s jaw tightened and he shifted his gaze away from her, fixing it on Rome.
“And if you’d toldme, I would have helped you. I would have spent time with Jack so you could work. I would have made whatever you wanted possible.” He expelled a breath and it rushed across her temple, lifting her dark hair a little.
“I know that.” What else could she say? She acknowledged she’d made a mistake, but it didn’t mean she’d been wrong not to tell him about Jack. It was so much more complex than that.
“You talk about second chances, about what a gift Jack was. About the family you lost and now have, but did you ever think that I deserved the exact same second chance you did?” His eyes flashed back to hers. “Did you ever think I had also lost people I loved, that I deserved to know my son, to raise him, to have him in my life?”
“It wasn’t about punishing you, or with-holding anything from you,” she said, not for the first time. “I just couldn’t see how we would make it work.”
“You should have given me a chance.”
Her eyes swept shut, because he was right. Her heart turned over in her chest, and she fought a wave of exhaustion, a wave of grief. “I know.” And she did. “I can’t stand here right now and say I would have made the same choice now that I did then. I can’t look you in the eye and say that I was right, I can’t defend my decision, I can only say that I didn’t make it out of malice or anger, or hurt or wounded pride. I acted on my instincts, on what I thought truly would be best for everyone.”
Silence.
He stared at her for several long seconds, and she stared back, and gradually, her hand on his chest began to feel different. Tingly and heavy, so she went to move it away but he lifted his own hand, capturing hers and holding it where it was, pressing it to his chest, his eyes boring down into hers.
“What you did…”
She held her breath.
“I will never understand it.” His eyes flashed with a darkness that chilled her to the bones. “And yet there is something about you that makes it impossible for me to hate you.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “I want to. My brother Max thinks I should send you back to England and make you fight for any kind of place in Jack’s life. He thinks you should know what it feels like to be deprived of your own child.”
Her gasp reverberated around the terrace.
“I wish I could. I wish I could get you out of my life. Out of my house. Out of my damned head.”
She inhaled shakily. “What do you mean?”