Page 23 of Road to Rosalee

‘All good, I’m awake now.’ Background rustlings sounded down the line. ‘How’s it going there in bumpkin town? Met anyone with two heads yet?’

Melody ignored the passive-aggressive jab. ‘Yeah, it’s actually going really good.’ She paused, sucked in a breath, and then rushed the next bit, before she could chicken out. ‘I’ve agreed to take on the cook’s job out at the family station. For six weeks.’

‘You’ve what?’ His voice was gruff. ‘What about your obligations here? To the café and to me? We need you here, Melody. You’re my wife, and a good wife should submit to what her husband needs from her.’

She was about to snap back but stopped herself. ‘I haven’t forgotten I’m your wife, Antonio, nor have I forgotten about the café I have poured my heart and soul into the past three years. It’s just … well, I need this right now. Can you understand that?’

‘I don’t understand what you are doing at all. You should be here, with me, not gallivanting around the countryside like some hippie.’

‘I’m not gallivanting like some hippie, Antonio. I am spending time with my father.’ She couldn’t help the icy tone, and she wasn’t about to explain that her father wouldn’t be arriving at the station for a few weeks. That was none of Antonio’s business.

‘You’ve spent three weeks with him now, Melody. And besides, have you stopped to think how isolated you’re going to be on some cattle ranch?’ He laughed, snorted even. ‘You won’t last a bloody day there, let alone six weeks.’

She looked out the window at her dad racing past on the quad bike, with Duke and Duchess in a crate tied to the back, and her exasperation subsided. ‘We’ll see.’

There was an extended silence then an almighty huff. ‘Right. Well, I suppose there’s nothing I can do or say to change your mind, so I’m not going to bother. Your bad choices are not going to rub off on me any longer.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

Antonio huffed again. ‘I mean that I am going to do what’s best for me, and for the café.’

‘That café is part mine, remember.’ She was being baited and she knew it, but she just couldn’t break the old habit of snapping into defensive mode.

‘Not on paper it isn’t.’ He sounded quite pleased with the power that gave him.

She gasped. ‘You wouldn’t.’ Naïvely trusting Antonio way back when, she’d invested her savings and a substantial financial gift from her mother into the café with the promise of being a part-owner but hadn’t signed a damn thing to say so.

‘Try me, Melody. Your place is here, with me and at the café. If you choose otherwise, we’ll see what happens.’

‘Please, Antonio, don’t play that card.’ Melody held out the hope that Marianna wouldn’t let her be ripped off where the café was concerned, if it came to that. ‘Please, just try and be happy for me, that I’ve found my dad and everything’s going better than expected.’

‘I give up trying to steer you in the right direction, Melody,’ he said. ‘If you insist on going out to the sticks, I think we should have a trial separation.’

It was just like him to issue an ultimatum and expect her to back down. Not this time. ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ she snapped.

There was a muffled sound, followed by another then the slamming of a door. After a couple of lengthy seconds, Antonio’s voice came back through the phone, crystal clear. ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

Melody’s instincts jerked to life – maybe he hadn’t waited for her to agree to a separation before he’d started sleeping around. ‘What was that noise?’

‘Oh, just the neighbours wanting some sugar.’

‘Our neighbours are night owls. What are they doing up at this time?’

‘Who knows? I’m not their keeper,’ he snapped.

Suspicion swirled in her stomach. That sick feeling returned, the one she’d lived with since he’d cheated with the buxom blonde, the one that had subsided in the weeks she’d been here surrounded by people who were genuine and loving. ‘Have you got someone there, Antonio?’

‘No, Melody, don’t be ridiculous.’

She honed her hearing, wishing she were a fly on the wall in their apartment. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m bloody well sure.’

‘Okay, well, I suppose I just have to believe you, don’t I?’

‘I suppose you do.’ His reply was terribly cold. ‘Take care out there, won’t you?’

‘Yup, righto. Bye.’ She hung up the phone, shoved it across the bench, out of her reach, thanking her lucky stars that she might have found a way out of her messy life and into a world where she felt wanted, needed, loved.