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Veronica left the hotel with her map and several brochures, troubled by her conversation with Elena. Perhaps because she’d finally accepted that loving a man like Leonardo was a sure path to misery.
Seeking distraction, she set herself the task of familiarising herself with all the established walks, as well as exploring the towns of Capri and Anacapri. Both were beautiful towns—quaint and historical—but she preferred Anacapri because it was smaller and out of reach of the day-trippers. She sat down at an al fresco table in the piazza there and had a lovely lunch—though not too big, given she was going to the Fabrizzis’ for dinner that night. After lunch she bought a bottle of water and set off for another walk which took her down a steep, winding path to the most delightful little beach. There she sat on a smooth rock for a couple of hours, sandals off, her hot feet cooling in the tepid water.
The walk back up was not so delightful, but she took her time, though vowing not to do quite so much the following day. Her period still hadn’t come but she’d decided not to worry about it. She couldn’t will it to come, could she?
Once back at the villa, she had a long shower, followed by a short nap before dressing for dinner. Nothing too fancy, just a pair of black cotton culottes and a black-and-white wrap-around top that had elbow-length bat-wing sleeves. She left her hair down, having freshly washed and styled it.
‘How lovely you look,’ Sophia gushed before giving her the obligatory hug. ‘But you have caught the sun, have you not?’
‘I have,’ Veronica confessed. ‘I was silly and took off my hat while I was at a beach. The breeze and the water tricked me into thinking I was cool.’
‘A little sun doesn’t do any harm,’ Alberto said, and came forward to give her a hug also.
Veronica wondered if she’d ever get used to all the hugging, then realised she wouldn’t have to. Soon, she’d be back home in Australia and back to her less demonstrative lifestyle.
It was a rather depressing thought.
‘We do not have any guests in the hotel tonight,’ Sophia told her. ‘We can eat in the dining room, if you wish. Or on the big table in the kitchen.’
‘Oh, please, in the kitchen.’
Sophia beamed at her, her wide smile very satisfied. ‘Good. Come. Alberto wishes to give you some of Alfonso’s prized limoncello before we eat.’
‘It is very good,’ Alberto said. ‘You will like.’
She did like. And she said so.
‘Alfonso also makes his own wine,’ Alberto added.
‘He’s very clever, then,’ Veronica said.
The table in the kitchen was quite large. Sophia had set just one end with Alberto at the head and herself and Sophia flanking him. The food,, as Veronica had expected, was simply delicious, but not too over the top, just a meatball and spaghetti dish, all washed down with what she suspected was some of Alfonso’s home-made wine. Dessert was a coconut cake which was very tasty. The coffee afterwards was strong, but Veronica didn’t say anything, just added cream and sugar and gave up the idea of sleeping until the wee hours of the morning.
Not that it mattered. She didn’t have to go anywhere tomorrow.
The meal ended around nine, Veronica surprised that not once had Sophia and Alberto brought up the subject of their son. In turn, she resisted the temptation to question them about her father, deciding she wanted just to enjoy their company and forget about everything else for tonight. They asked her about her job, which she explained, confessing that she worked six, sometimes seven days a week. They looked horrified, claimed she must be in need of a holiday, then made a lot of suggestions about how she should spend the rest of her time o
n Capri. They insisted she see the Blue Grotto again, but warned her to go very early in the day or very late, so that she didn’t get caught up with all the day-trippers. Also on the list was the chairlift up the mountain, both of which she agreed to do.
After another round of hugs, and a promise to join the whole family for lunch next Sunday, Veronica left to walk home slowly, thinking what lovely parents Leonardo had. Much nicer than Jerome’s parents.
Jerome…
For the first time in three years, Veronica was able to think about Jerome without feeling one bit upset, or even bitter. Finally, she was able to look at what he had done more objectively. Yes, it had been wicked of him to lie to her about loving her when he had loved another woman—a married doctor with whom he had worked. Even more wicked to plan to marry her and have children with her because he wanted a family, because the so-called love of his life refused to leave her husband and children and marry him. At the same time, she hadn’t wanted to give Jerome up. She’d wanted to have her cake and eat it too. Veronica would never have found out the horrible truth if the woman hadn’t broken down at Jerome’s wake and confessed everything.
Veronica still hated Jerome and his lover, but they no longer had the power to destroy her life. She was free of them at last.
She had her father to thank for that. Her father and, yes, Leonardo.
A sigh came to her lips, a sigh for a dream which she accepted was just a dream. Leonardo wasn’t going to change. Leopards didn’t change their spots. He was taken with her because she was different, that was all. And maybe she was taken with him because he was different from the Australian boyfriends she’d had. Not just better looking but more passionate. More…exotic. And definitely more erotic.
A shiver ran down her spine when she thought of how much she loved the ways he made love to her. Nothing seemed wrong to her when she was in his arms.
Another sigh wafted from her lips, this one the sound of resignation.
There was no use pretending she could resist the temptation to spend another weekend with him, especially if she could spend it with him in Venice. She would insist on that. If she was going to risk another broken heart, then she could at least have it broken in Venice.
Her mind made up, she decided to tell him the good news when he rang her on Sunday evening.
