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Are you really going to chicken out as soon as things get tough? Are you just going to slink away? My inner optimist was a persistent whisper. Is that the kind of wife you want to be?
No, it most certainly wasn’t—yet something in me shrank to a shrivelled bit of nothing when Matteo adopted that remote, imperious attitude. It felt like a twenty-foot-high stone wall, or perhaps an electric fence.
Do not touch. Do not even approach.
Still, I told myself, I would try. For the sake of what I hoped we both felt, I had to try.
I heard the shower being turned off and a few minutes later Matteo came into the room, wearing nothing but a towel loosely about his hips. I swallowed hard at the sight of him, all chiselled muscle and hard angles, but his eyes were like steel.
A mere day ago he would have favoured me with a sleepy smile and then walked slowly over to me, dropping the towel as he went. We would have fallen onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and made love with leisurely enjoyment until the sun faded in the sky and we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Now Matteo turned away from me as he dropped the towel and unzipped his suitcase, pulling out fresh clothes.
‘Matteo, will you please talk to me?’ I asked, my voice wavering too much for my liking.
‘There’s nothing to say.’ He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and reached for a shirt.
‘Ever since you received that telegram it’s as if you’re a different person.’
‘No, I’m not.’ His voice lashed out, striking me with what felt like a physical blow. ‘I’m exactly the same.’
It sounded like a warning.
Still, I tried not to panic. Not to give in to my ever-present fear. Because I was stronger and smarter than that.
But not strong or smart enough to keep from falling in love with a man who does not feel the same way about you.
No, I wasn’t going to think like that. Not yet, anyway. Not until I had to.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked, trying for a friendly and reasonable tone. ‘Why do you think your grandfather called you so urgently?’
‘Because he can.’ One dark eyebrow arched as he buttoned his shirt and selected a tie.
‘But why can he?’ I pressed. ‘Is it something to do with the shares?’ I hesitated, unsure if I was wading into too-deep water...if I’d drown. ‘It almost seems as if he has some hold over you.’
‘Don’t be so utterly ridiculous,’ Matteo snapped. ‘Of course he doesn’t.’ He pulled on a suit jacket and started from the room. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be. Don’t wait up.’
‘I thought he wanted to see both of us—’
‘He’ll have to make do with me.’
And with that
he closed the door behind him, one note away from a slam.
I sank back onto the sofa, deflated, defeated. That had gone well. Not. I was at an impasse, but I told myself to be patient. Matteo was understandably tense at seeing his grandfather again. I could appreciate that. But his own emotions about that meeting did not have to play to my insecurities and fears. I couldn’t let them.
Still, as the hours passed, I knew that was exactly what was happening.
* * *
I strode towards my grandfather’s study, hating everything about this situation. Hating myself.
Daisy’s words were a mocking refrain in my mind: It almost seems as if he has some hold over you.
Even she, after such a short amount of time, could see my weakness. Could sense that after thirty-six years of abuse and insult at the hands of a bitter old man I still came running. Still came begging, like a dog waiting to be kicked.
It was an instinct that I couldn’t seem to get rid of, no matter how hard I tried. Oh, it wasn’t as painfully obvious as it had been when I was a child—working as hard as I could to impress him, waiting for his infrequent visits in the utterly vain and pointless hope that one day, one day, I’d do and be enough. Show him I was worthy of love, or at least some affection.
