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‘I’m not hungry,’ she told him.
He didn’t listen, and returned a few minutes later with a plate of pastries and a large mug of hot chocolate and some liquor. ‘My mother said to give you this—it’s limoncello—made from the lemons from the family tree, it will help you rest.’ He poured her a small glass and Emma took it, but placed it on the bedside table.
‘I should join them,’ he said.
‘Go,’ Emma replied.
‘Thank you.’ He stood at the door, then turned and added, ‘For being here. It helps.’
‘Does it?’ Her eyes searched his. ‘Luca, if me being here helps…’ She watched his face immediately become shuttered, and knew now wasn’t the time to demand answers—to ask why he shut her out over and over again, only to occasionally let her in, why he was so closed off to emotion.
‘Rest,’ Luca said instead, and once he had gone back to join his family, Emma undressed, feeling exhausted. Even if she weren’t pregnant she wouldn’t have drunk the limoncello, so she tipped the brew down the sink, hating his father’s legacy. Then she undressed for bed, catching sight of herself in the mirror and noticing the slight changes in her body already. There was no bump, it was way too soon for that, but there was a softness to her belly and pressing her fingers to her pubic bone she could feel the firm wedge of muscle. Her breasts were rounder, the areolae darker—small, subtle changes that Luca would never notice. Not that he would see them because she pulled on her shapeless candy-striped flannelette pyjamas as if they were some sort of chastity belt—usually worn for a girls’ movie night and certainly not seduction material.
She slipped between the crisp cotton sheets and willed sleep to come, wished it was morning and that this long night was over.
He came to bed before midnight, undressed and climbed in beside her. Silence would have been welcome, but wails of tears still filled the house at times.
‘I hate this,’ Luca admitted to the darkness, knowing she was awake beside him.
‘I know.’
‘This day has been coming for a long time.’
‘You can never prepare for losing someone you love.’
‘I don’t love him.’ She lay still beside him, her heart stopping for a moment as she heard his truth. ‘I have never loved him.’
‘Luca…’ She shook her head on the pillow. ‘You shouldn’t speak like that on the eve—’
‘So he is a saint now?’ She heard the flash of anger in his voice. ‘All those people out there think they are mourning a good man, a loving husband, a wonderful father, when the truth is…’ He halted, but Emma wouldn’t let hi
m leave it.
‘What is the truth, Luca? How bad was it?’
‘He beat her.’ Here in the dark, with her hand slipping into his, he said it. ‘Over and over he beat her, yet she never cried, she just took it. Only even if she made no noise, you could still hear it…’ The marrow chilled in her bones as he continued. ‘Of course, we were not allowed to tell, of course Ma covered her bruises.’
‘What was he like…’ Emma swallowed ‘…to you and Daniela?’
‘Daniela was his angel—people say children know, but I am not sure as Ma and I hid it well, even from her.’
‘And you?’
He didn’t answer, so she asked again, her hand reaching out to the scar on his cheek, and he held her hand against it for a moment.
‘Did he do this?’
He didn’t say anything more and it took a moment for Emma to realise that he was finally asleep—exhaustion catching up with him at last.
He reached for her in sleep, one strong arm dragging her that little bit closer, and she lay rigid in his arms, telling herself to pull away, except she had never felt closer to him, remembering his tension when they’d lain here all those weeks ago, when every noise, every creak of the house must for Luca have screamed danger.
Sleep didn’t let him rest quietly, though.
With every noise she felt the slight jump of muscle still loaded with adrenaline, his arms pulling her further in until she could feel the press of his groin against hers.
She could feel the hardness of his erection, the tense heat of him, a need so demanding it must have woken him, because he turned away, moved onto his back, remembering their rules.
But distance didn’t help it abate.
