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The next hour was spent settling Ella, and then showering and getting dressed, all the time avoiding Antonio, or trying to. When she finally came downstairs with Ella in her arms, fighting both apprehension and shyness, Antonio was waiting in the kitchen with a picnic basket and a blanket.
‘I thought we could go to Lake Lugano,’ he said with an easy smile. ‘Have a picnic. It’s only about an hour from here.’
Maisie blinked at him in surprise. ‘Don’t you have to work?’
‘I can take a day off.’
A whole day with Antonio...as a family. Hope and happiness bloomed in Maisie’s heart. ‘All right,’ she said, smiling back at him. ‘That’s great.’
Moments later the basket and blanket were in the back of the car Antonio had provided for her, and with Ella buckled in her car seat, kicking her legs happily, they were off, cruising along the narrow, hilly lanes that cut through the glacier-made valleys of Northern Italy. Maisie had taken the wheel, since she knew of Antonio’s aversion to driving; it felt surprisingly natural to drive along, chatting all the way.
‘Lake Lugano is on the border between Italy and Switzerland,’ Antonio said as they crawled through the centre of a sleepy village. ‘Over half of it is in Switzerland, actually, but we’ll stay on the Italian side, I think, since it’s closer.’
Soon enough the shimmering, deep blue waters of the lake were spread out before them, and Antonio directed her to a car park in a little commune. With Ella in the stroller they walked on a promenade that ran along the shores of the lake, the air balmy and warm, the day near-perfect. The uncertainties and apprehension Maisie had been feeling were swept away like cobwebs, and everything felt clean and new again.
Antonio seemed relaxed too, his hands in his pockets as they walked along, talking about everything and nothing, sometimes bending down to chuck Ella’s chin or tickle her toes. Her daughter’s happy, answering gurgle was a song in Maisie’s heart. She didn’t think anything could be more wonderful. If this was a sign of things to come, of the life she’d share with Antonio, then she’d have no worries at all. No fears lurking in the dark corners of her newly swept heart. Everything, absolutely everything, felt possible.
* * *
This was happiness. Antonio had to keep reminding himself, because it felt so unnatural. So tenuous. He kept glancing at Maisie and Ella, waiting for them to disappear like the mirages they seemed to be, or at least for a frown to mar the perfect smoothness of Maisie’s forehead. Surely something would go wrong.
Or maybe it would simply go wrong in him, because as the day stretched on, golden and perfect, Antonio felt himself get more and more tense, increasingly restless. He tried to stop
it, tried to revel in the simple pleasure of being with Maisie and Ella, but he couldn’t. Perhaps he just wasn’t made that way. Perhaps he’d been ruined along with his brother, his family, and there was no hope for him after all.
They ate lunch on a stretch of soft grass by the lake, bumblebees and butterflies lazily tumbling through the air, the only sound the distant buzz of a motorboat. Maisie fed Ella and then put her in the stroller for a nap, her chubby face covered by a sunshade.
She and Antonio stretched out on the blanket, legs tangled together, and lazed in the sun. Everything about it should have been wonderful but it wasn’t. Despite his best intentions Antonio couldn’t let himself relax. Couldn’t make himself hope.
‘Antonio.’ Maisie’s voice was gentle, but he still heard the faint reproach. She laid her palm against his cheek as she gazed into his eyes. ‘What is it? Why are you so jumpy?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shifted onto his back so her hand fell away. ‘This is new for me, Maisie. I haven’t had a proper relationship in years, like I told you.’ Actually, he’d never really had a proper romantic relationship. Had never even wanted to try.
‘I know it’s new. It’s new for me too.’ Her voice was soft and sad, making him feel worse—and even jumpier. ‘It’s okay,’ she added. ‘We don’t have to rush things, Antonio. We can just take each day as it comes.’
He stared up at the sky, the bright blue starting to fade at the edges. In her stroller, Ella stirred. ‘We should go,’ he said. ‘It’s getting late, and I really should get to the office at some point today.’
‘Okay.’
He didn’t look at her as he stood up; Maisie began packing away the picnic things and Antonio folded the blanket. Neither of them spoke as they walked back to the car, and it wasn’t the companionable silence of earlier. Things felt tense, unhappy, as if they were already unravelling. And Antonio knew it was all his fault.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said after they’d spent an hour of tense silence in the car, and they’d pulled into the drive of Maisie’s villa. ‘I wanted this day to be perfect.’
Maisie gave him a wry smile, her eyes shadowed. ‘Nothing’s perfect, but I enjoyed today, Antonio. Truly.’
How could she be so patient with him? Somehow it made him feel worse. He’d already called his driver to pick him up, and the limo pulled up to the kerb before he answered Maisie. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he said, keeping it vague on purpose. He quickly kissed Ella’s forehead before striding towards the limo. As he slid into the leather interior, he couldn’t keep from breathing a sigh of relief. At least now he didn’t have to feel as if he was failing all the time.
Antonio spent the next few days working, communicating with Maisie only by text and trying not to feel guilty that once again he was taking a step back, out of necessity more than anything else. Yet that first burst of relief he’d felt had quickly evaporated, leaving him so restless and ill-tempered that even his staff noticed.
He wasn’t happy with Maisie, and he wasn’t happy without her. Relationships were impossible for him. All of it made Antonio furious with himself, and even more irritable, until people started to noticeably avoid him. Finally, three days after their trip to Lake Lugano, he broke down and headed towards Maisie’s villa.
Dusk was falling as the car pulled into the drive. Antonio dismissed his driver and got out, straightening his jacket as well as his resolve. He glimpsed Maisie through the window, Ella in her arms, her fiery hair pulled back in a messy bun, her body slender and supple as she soothed their baby. As Antonio opened the front door he heard the soft, melodious notes of a lullaby; Maisie’s voice was as lovely as her playing of the violin.
He paused there for a moment, savouring the beauty and peace of the scene—the dim, lamplit room, the enticing smells of basil and garlic emanating from the kitchen, Maisie’s sweet voice as she sang to their daughter. It was all so warm and welcoming, so wonderful, and so unlike the cold life, impersonal and sterile, that Antonio had constructed for himself over the last ten years. He wondered why on earth he’d stayed away for the last few days.
‘Maisie?’ he called, and she came around the corner, her lovely face wreathed in smiles.
‘Antonio.’ There was nothing but joy in her voice, no censure or accusation or disappointment. Antonio found himself returning her smile, then taking Ella from her as he kissed Maisie hello with passion, warmth and gratitude.
