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“I can promise that baby, or no baby, I expect to marry you.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does to me.”
“It’s an obligation thing.” Horror cascaded over her features. “You pity me.”
He laughed. He could not help it. It was not a sound of happy amusement, but a grim one. “You are too strong to pity.”
“I’m not. I’m scared to death. That makes me a coward. I don’t want to tempt fate.”
“You are no coward.”
“I don’t know how we jumped to talk of marriage. Last night we were negotiating whether or not I’m going to move into the Grisafi villa.”
“I go after what I want.”
“And what you want is me to marry you?” She sounded disbelieving.
“Believe it.” He tilted her chin with the edge of his hand, so their eyes continued to meet. “You are living scared and that is no way to live.”
“Says you.”
Instead of continuing to argue with her, he kissed her. It wasn’t a passionate, let’s-make-love kiss, but a tender salute of comfort. Then, leaning his head against hers, he spoke. “Faith, I want you to live up to your name. I want you to have hope in the future. I want you believe in the family we can make together.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“I believe in you.”
She took a shuddering breath. “I want to show you something.”
“Whatever you need.”
She stood and he did, as well, wondering what she felt he needed to see. She was his, even if she did not yet acknowledge that fact. And the presence of their baby in her womb meant that no matter what promises he had made, the need to make her a permanent part of his life superseded them now.
He would not break the final promise and allow Faith to replace Maura in his heart, but he would spend the rest of his life proving to Faith that marriage to him was not a mistake. He had no doubts he would convince her of it.
She might not be in love with him, but she loved his mother and his son. And she loved teaching at the primary school. She would not be able to keep that job if she insisted on keeping a single status while pregnant. This was Sicily, not the more liberal UK or America.
He might not agree with all the cultural norms of his country, but he wasn’t above taking advantage of them when he needed to.
Faith would marry him.
She stopped in front of a covered statue and met his eyes with hers. “You didn’t look.”
“No.”
“Weren’t you curious?”
“Very.”
“But you respected my privacy.”
“Si.” Unlike his mother. But this one time he could give thanks for her excessive curiosity. With her pessimistic views regarding her pregnancy, she would probably have waited to tell him until she was inches from giving birth—if then.
Faith’s fingers were on the cloth, but she had not lifted it, though he assumed that was her plan. “You didn’t think undressing me compromised that?”
“I have mapped every centimeter of your naked body with my eyes, my fingers…my tongue. There are no secrets between us in that regard.”
“And if I did not want you undressing me?”
“It has never bothered you before.”
“But we broke up, Tino.”
“Did we?” He stepped closer until they were sharing breathing space. “Or were we on hiatus while you worked out best when and how to tell me of our child?”
For he had no doubt she had planned to do so. He remembered comments she had made when they spoke of commitment that had made no sense at the time, but looking back had ominous import.
She looked chagrined, but did not answer.
“Even if I had been looking to marry again—which I was not—you would not have allowed me to do so without informing me of our child’s existence, would you?”
“No.”
“Nor would I have ever let you walk away, but admit it—you were biding your time before we reconciled.”
“I wasn’t.” She bit her lip and sighed, her blue eyes troubled. “You seem to forget you were the one who was so adamantly opposed to marriage to me.”
“If I could go back and change my responses to you in that regard, I would.” Because even without the baby, he now admitted he could never have let Faith walk out of his life. He wasn’t proud of his weakness, but he would not lie to himself about it, either.
“I am arrogant. I admit it, but truth is truth. You have never stopped belonging to me and vice versa.”
“We were casual lovers, Tino. Bed partners. Not a couple.” Bitterness and confusion laced her voice in equal measure. “We didn’t belong to each other.”
“That is not how I see it.”
“Oh, really? That’s why you refused my calls for two weeks while you were in New York.” That was his Faith, still fragile from her admissions, but ready to speak her mind regardless.
“Yes.”
Blue eyes went wide in shock. “What?”
“I was not comfortable with the depth our relationship had attained, and I attempted to retrench to a less emotionally intimate position.” He took a deep breath and prepared to speak words that rarely passed his lips. “I am truly sorry that hurt you.”
“I…” She looked lost for words, but then visibly regrouped. “It must have worked, or you would not have denied our friendship to your mother.”
“You know that is not true.” They would lay this to rest once and for all. “I explained why I said what I did, and if it makes you feel any better, I learned to regret it.” Deeply.
“The big bad, business tycoon was afraid of his mother. Very convincing, Tino.”
Just about as convincing as his Faith giving in to sarcasm. “Mocking me will not change the truth of our circumstances.”
She sighed, as if her anger was deflating. “I know th
at.”
“We belong to each other. My idiocy and your intransigency cannot change that. Admit it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FAITH shook her head. “You never give up, do you?”
“No.”
“You are a piece of work, Valentino Grisafi.”
“If you mean ‘a piece of work’ like those you create, I will take that as a compliment.”
“Thank you.”
“You are a very talented artist.”
“I hope you continue to think so after seeing these pieces.”
And then she showed him, one after another. Each one was a pregnant woman in a different situation and varying stages of pregnancy, from barely pregnant to one where the woman looked as if she was ready to give imminent birth to twins.
The most striking thing about the collection was the wealth of emotion it expressed—and elicited. There was one woman in a state of misery, clearly on the edge of losing her child. There was another who glowed with such joy it choked him. Another was a grouping, a man, a woman and a child. The man and child had their hands on the protruding belly of the mother-to-be. One of her more abstract pieces, their features were blank and the sex of the child was not clear. But Tino was sure it was a little boy and that both man and boy wore grins on their faces.
He was certain the statue represented something Faith hoped for, something Tino was determined he and Giosue could give her. Acceptance. And family.
He reached out to touch the woman who looked on the verge of final tragedy. “Is this how you feel right now?”
“Sometimes.”
He pulled the emotionally fragile woman to him and kissed the top of her silky red curls, inhaling her scent and trying to imbue her with his confidence. “You will not lose this baby.”
“I have to believe that, or I would go crazy.”
“But you are still afraid.” He rubbed her back, loving the feel of her smaller body so close to his.
“Terrified.”
“You are also happy.”
“Ecstatic.”
Something inside him settled when she admitted that. “You want the baby.”
“Very, very, very much.” She hugged him tight as if that was the only way to express the depth of her feelings on the matter.
