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“You’ve made an incredible sacrifice,” Angelo said. “Twice over, you’ve put the needs of our family ahead of your own desires.”
Mark slung himself into a chair and gave a little shrug. “I enjoyed my time with Tilly and Arthur. I liked playing dad, but it’s time the little guy had a father who can be a father.”
Mark was saying all the right words, but there was a certain hollowness in his eyes that wasn’t there before he went away. Angelo could have chalked it up to exhaustion, but he fancied it something else. Misery. Loss. Grief. There was a lot of that happening in the Vitali household today. There was no such thing as playing dad. Mark had been there for the baby’s birth and had raised the boy for a year. Mark had suffered a loss worse than any of them, and Angelo would not pretend otherwise.
He had known Mark was returning, of course. He had not mentioned it to Bobby, in case something happened to prevent it. The situation with Tilly and the baby had become quite complex over the past weeks.
“The prince has sworn to take excellent care of both of them,” Angelo reassured Mark.
“I know. They’ll be properly protected by him. As a public figure, she’ll be pretty much untouchable. And Arthur will have the best of everything. Forever. It was a smart solution, Angelo. Tying Tilly’s lineage to a royal throne puts her out of reach. The media is already going absolutely mad with romantic stories about the match.”
“Oh yes,” Angelo smiled, picking up a paper which covered the subject. He read it out aloud. “Alfric is a prince with a heart of gold, prepared to raise a child of uncertain parentage because of his love for Matilda Braybrooke. It’s a fairy tale for every single mother out there.”
“Yes,” Mark said. “And like so many single mothers, there’s a darker story than anybody suspects behind the circumstances of the existence of the child.”
Angelo swirled his drink and nodded. “That’s true enough. I know this is hard for you, boy. As much as we have missed you, you will miss them.”
Mark nodded and changed the subject.
“So. There’s a new girl?”
“I got Bobby a pet. She’s teaching him responsibility.”
“Is she?” Mark laughed. “That must be fun to watch.”
“It is,” Angelo smiled. “He has matured a lot.”
Mark lifted a brow as if he doubted that. “Tell me about the girl.”
“She’s smart. Useful, in multiple ways.”
“Uh huh. And?”
“We’ve not slept with her. I cannot risk another Tilly situation. She’s off-limits. Just so you know.”
“There is such a thing as birth control.”
“Abstinence is the only fully effective birth control.”
Mark laughed. “That’s a sentence I never thought I would hear out of your mouth.”
“I’ve said a great many things lately I never thought I’d say.” Angelo sighed. “It is truly good to see you again. Come here.”
He reached down, grabbed Mark up out of the chair, pulled him close, and kissed him deeply.
“I can’t make up for what you’ve lost,” he said. “But I will be here, boy, for every bit of grief that follows.”
Chapter 8
For days on end, the house revolved around Mark’s return. Gemma sat in her room and thought about all the circumstances surrounding Willow’s death. She should never have come back to Bobby. She thought that she belonged here, but nobody truly belonged here besides Angelo, Mark, and Bobby. Their connection was natural and effortless, in spite of their significantly different personalities.
It seemed obvious to her that she was now absolutely extraneous in every sense of the word. The Vitali men did not need a woman in their home. They had impregnated Tilly Braybrooke and sent her off to marry someone else. They had killed Willow too. Now she was left. For how long?
“Go away!” She called out the second she heard a knock at the door. Even as the words left her mouth, she knew they were pointless. Nobody listened to a single thing she said. Nobody cared what she felt.
“Hi. Gemma. I don’t think we’ve had a proper introduction.”
She spun around from where she was sitting in the window and looked at him, surprised. She hadn’t thought Mark would bother to see her. He had a whole lot more problems than her, judging from what she’d managed to absorb simply from being around conversation.
“We haven’t,” she said.
“I thought we should get to know one another.” He smiled, and she felt warmth engulf her.
Mark was handsome. All the Vitali men were handsome, but Mark was a different kind of handsome. Model handsome. Good guy, handsome. All-American quarterback national hero handsome. She didn’t know what to do with herself in the face of an unintentional charm offensive. So she tried to do what Willow would have done.
“I don’t see why that would be necessary,” she said stiffly and formally.
