AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Jenny, Jenny, aren’t you getting a little carried away?’
‘Am I?’ Her blue eyes were clear and defiant. ‘Think about it, Matt—is it really such an incredible idea?’
And that was the worst of it—he could see it, quite plainly, as if someone was playing a film inside his head. In a way, fame robbed you of simple humanity. They had become things—to be dissected and picked over. He shook his head and his eyes were clouded with a bleak kind of sadness. ‘And I brought you into this crazy world of showbiz,’ he said huskily. ‘What kind of a lover would do that?’
A few months ago she might have agreed with him, but so much had changed—and not just the baby. Though maybe because of the baby. And it was all to do with responsibility—acknowledging it and accepting it. It took two to do everything in a relationship—to fall in love and then to wreck it. You couldn’t place the blame on one person’s shoulders.
She shook her head. ‘Oh, Matt—that’s not what I’m saying! You didn’t frogmarch me into the studios with a gun at my head, did you? I wanted fame, too. I saw what you had and I wanted it with a hunger which sometimes frightened me—but not enough to stop me! But none of that’s important. Not now—we can’t change the past. But I don’t want any more pressure—because that will put pressure on the baby.’ She looked at him with an appeal in her eyes. ‘Just what kind of story are we going to give the press?’
He swore in Italian, getting up to pace up and down the polished oak floors of a flat in which he had slept for barely more than a dozen nights in the two years he’d owned it—he, a man who’d grown up in a cramped tenement building in New York? How crazy was that?
‘Why should the press be our first consideration?’ he exploded.
And, in spite of everything, Jennifer’s lips curved into a rueful smile. ‘That’s like asking why the grass is green!’
He let out a pent-up sigh and went to look out of the window. Below lay Hyde Park in all its glory. Joggers moved along the paths and mothers and nannies strolled with pushchairs beneath trees which were beginning to be touched with autumn gold. Soon winter would arrive. The London streets would be washed with rain or dusted with frost or even—if they were very lucky—heaped with snow.
And Jennifer might trip and fall!
He turned round. ‘Have you told your mother?’
‘Are you kidding?’
‘Don’t you think you should?’
‘Why? The first thing she’ll do is think that being a grandmother is going to make her sound old. And the second will be to give me a hard time over the damage this is going to do to my career.’
‘She hates me,’ he observed.
‘She hates all men, Matt, not just you. Ever since my father walked out her view of the world has been distorted.’
It occurred to him that Mrs Warren had influenced her daughter more than Jennifer had perhaps ever acknowledged. Had she learned at her mother’s knee that all men were inherently unfaithful? Was that why she had always been so suspicious of him? Only now could he see—too late—that maybe he should have sat down and talked about it with her instead of becoming increasingly frustrated at her lack of trust and her willingness to believe the rumours instead of listening to him.
‘You’re going to have to tell her some time.’
Jennifer briefly closed her eyes. ‘I know I am. Just not yet. If we think outside interest would be intrusive, then just imagine…’
Matt shuddered. ‘I would rather not.’
It occurred to him that the two of them had not spoken with such ease for a long time. And that was good, he told himself. Jenny was right—they could not change what had happened, and in the conventional sense their relationship was over. But civility between them must be maintained. He had wanted that before, but in view of the baby it had now became imperative.
‘Shall we go to Pantelleria?’ he asked softly. ‘To the dammuso? We could both do with a little rest and recuperation.’ His eyes narrowed as they took in her pinched face and pale skin. ‘Particularly you,’ he added.
Her mouth suddenly dried, but only her attitude of mind could save her from plunging into regret. For surely Matteo’s suggestion made sense? A place which she knew offered refuge and peace. Possibly the only such place in the world—at least for them.
Pantelleria—the black pearl of the Mediterranean. The beautiful island where they had spent their honeymoon. Where wild flowers bloomed and rare birds visited.
There, Matteo owned a simple square white house built of volcanic stone, with shallow domes and thick white walls which stayed deliciously cool in summer. She remembered them lying together in bed on the last morning of their honeymoon and vowing to return as often as they could. But of course that had been one of many promises broken by a lack of that most precious commodity…time.
And nothing had changed there.
She stared at him blankly. ‘How can we? I’ve got two films lined up.’
Matteo shrugged. ‘Cancel them.’
‘I can’t do that!’
His black eyes glinted. ‘Can’t? Or won’t?’ he challenged softly. ‘What’s more important to you—your work or your marriage?’
