Page 76 of Sasha’s Secret

“Sasha, I can hear you thinking. What do you want to know?”

His hand stroked her back in a soothing motion that gave her the reassurance she needed. “How old were you when your mother took you back to England?”

“Almost ten. I know you’re doing the maths, but yes, they had me in the first year of their marriage, and that may have been part of the problem—they didn’t have enough time together before I came along.”

“Even if that’s true—which I doubt—there must have been more to the split than that, surely?”

“There was. Although she learned to speak Italian fluently, my mother still felt isolated. She tried so hard to fit in, but it was a lot to ask of anyone, even with the love they had for each other. She went from living a very comfortable, very middle-class life in a British suburb, to trying to raise a family and make her marriage succeed on her husband’s family home in rural Sicily. She did it, too, for over ten years… until she couldn’t.”

And he was so proud of her for doing it—Sasha could hear the love and admiration and respect in the words, and her heart broke for him. “Did you ever go back to Sicily?”

“Every year. My mother sent me back for the summer holidays. She wanted to give me a chance to get to know… the other half of me, I guess. I went back every year until I was sixteen. She wanted… she hoped I’d have some sort of relationship with my father. Every year, Dario did his best to convince me my future was with him, but I wouldn’t have it. The thing is, Dario never gave up—still hasn’t.”

Sasha wasn’t sure how she knew it, but those last two words were central to what he was telling her… why their relationship was over. She waited, silently willing him to find his way back to her.

“The vineyard’s been in my family for generations. Ownership has always passed to the first-born son. I know—a load of macho, sexist bullshit, and I have been trying to get Dario to understand that for years. It hasn’t stopped him telling me at every opportunity that it’s my birthright, and I owe it to the family to go home, learn the business, and…”

Rocco’s chest rose and fell beneath Sasha’s hand as if he were struggling to breathe. Whatever he’d been planning to divulge next was clearly causing him even more emotional conflict. Families could totally screw a person up, and when that person was the man she loved, Sasha was ready to go toe-to-toe with the source on his behalf. If she ever ran into Dario Equizi…

“And get married to a nice Sicilian girl, so she can have lots of children and ensure the line continues.”

Sasha’s heart lurched, at the tension and overpowering unhappiness in Rocco’s voice and the implication of his words. The devil of insecurity started whispering in her ear. Even if there was a chance for them, if Rocco wanted those children, time was running out for him to have them with her. She might be able to fight Dario Equizi, but she couldn’t fight time. No one could do that.

“The fights really started after my mother died, a week after my seventeenth birthday. The next time Dario called, he didn’t pull his punches, and I can’t say I blame him—after all, I told him in no uncertain terms he wasn’t welcome at the funeral. It was for me to say goodbye to my mother, not for him to ease a guilty conscience. That was how that immature kid… how I saw it.

“But he laid into me—I no longer had a reason to stay in the UK, no family there, it made perfect sense for me to go to him and start my real life in Sicily. As if my life before I lost my mother meant nothing. He didn’t know that I’d been making plans.”

As if he knew he’d have to find a direction for himself when she was gone, which led to another question—how had Claire died? Patience, Sasha. Patience.

“That was when you enlisted?”

“As soon as I could, six weeks after the funeral. When she found out she had a particularly aggressive cancer and it was terminal, my mother didn’t keep it from me, because she knew I’d need a purpose for… afterwards. We talked a lot. When she couldn’t sleep because of the pain, I stayed up with her. She told me more about her side of my family, the generations that had served the country, and I knew that was the direction I needed to take. Training before I signed up was how I coped with losing her.”

The missing pieces of Rocco Equizi were falling like raindrops in a cloudburst, filling in the blanks of the man who had captured her heart. Sasha’s eyes filled with tears for the boy who’d had to become a man too soon.

The questions finally burst free. “When did you tell Dario you were joining the army? Did you tell him?”

“Yes, I told him—the day before I left for basic training. He still didn’t get the message—never has.”

“Wait—he was still in touch with you while you were serving? How?”

Rocco’s short bark of laughter spoke volumes. “You’d think it’d be easy to cut off all communication. I’ve thought about doing it more times than I can count, but… something holds me back each time.”

Because he still cared. In spite of everything, he still cared about his father, because his father had never stopped loving his wife and son, and never stopped wanting his son to be a family again. Rocco’s parents had never stopped loving one another—they’d been separated by circumstances beyond their control. Sasha’s heart broke for the three of them, all caught up in relationships that had the odds stacked against them.

“Claire never dated anyone else, did she, when she took you back to England?”

“Never. And Dario’s never seen himself as anything other than married to her, even though he’s been a widower for years.”

Another overwhelming wave of sadness washed over Sasha, for the family that had fractured but never fully broken. “I can understand why you came here now, for that extra distance between you and Dario.”

“Palermo is less than twelve hundred miles from London, and three hours on a cheap flight. Over here, I’m nearly five thousand miles further away. I needed time to think.”

About what? For Sasha, a different kind of alarm bell started to ring. Rocco was working up to something, and her gut was twisting with the fear that, if she did nothing, she was about to lose him forever.

“Sasha? I need to ask you something.”

And here it comes. She braced herself for the worst, that he was going to go back to the UK after all and she’d never see him again. That it would be the first step in reconciling with his father and starting a new life in Sicily, and the end of her pipedream that they could build a life together here. She would get through this without begging him to reconsider… to stay. No one would ever be able to accuse her of applying emotional blackmail. “Sure. What is it?”