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‘I can’t believe this is our child.’ Marco took another look at the black-and-white picture in disbelief.
‘I know, it does look a little like an alien, doesn’t it? Do you think I got beamed up onto a spaceship and just didn’t realise it?’
‘Shh, the bambino will hear you. An alien indeed.’ He snorted. ‘With that nose? This is a Venetian baby for sure.’
‘The next scan we can get in colour, you can properly see features and everything. Did you mind that they didn’t tell us the sex? We could go for a private scan if you wanted to find out.’
Hope flared at her casual use of ‘we’. ‘I don’t mind either way. Do you want to know?’
‘Yes and no,’ she admitted. ‘It would be handy for names, but I’m not really a pink for a girl, blue for a boy type. I just want it to be healthy and happy.’
‘It will be.’ He knew he sounded serious, but he would lay his life down for that little alien without even blinking.
They’d reached the hospital doors and Sophie paused. ‘I know you’re busy, but do you have to get back? I’m really grateful you’ve given me some time, but there’s a lot of things we need to talk about. It’s all feeling very real at the moment.’
‘I can clear my diary.’ He already had, but she didn’t need to know that. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘Anywhere outside. It’s so nice to have a dry day after two weeks of rain, I want to take advantage of it.’
Marco agreed. The torrential downpours of the last two weeks had added to his impatience as he’d waited for Sophie to get in touch.
‘I could eat though,’ she added. ‘Before I kept eating to stop me feeling sick. Now I just want to eat all the time because I am ravenous. The books tell me I need to be really healthy, but my body just wants carbs, the greasier and unhealthier, the better. You can tell the baby is half Italian the amount of pasta and pizza it demands.’
‘I think I know just the place.’ He hesitated. ‘Unless you have somewhere in mind?’
‘No, go ahead. And while we’re talking about food, thank you for arranging for those meals. There have been times when I was too tired to even make toast. They have been brilliant.’
Marco exhaled. Bianca had announced her pregnancy shortly after he’d last seen Sophie and had mentioned how tired she was in the evening and what an effort making dinner was. The difference was she had Mamma taking around dishes of pasta and Antonio to cook for her; he’d hated to think of Sophie exhausted and hungry all alone. ‘So the meals come under protective and not controlling?’
She nodded. ‘They do. They also come under thoughtful and sweet. I really appreciate it.’
It was a start. If he had his way, she’d be living with him and wouldn’t need to cope on her own. But he had agreed to respect her wishes—it didn’t mean he couldn’t make things a little easier for her though.
Marco hailed a cab the second they left the hospital and gave directions as he opened the door for Sophie. Neither of them spoke as the taxi crawled along. It was barely three miles to their destination, but in London traffic that could mean an eternity. As they sat there Marco was assailed by homesickness for the city of his birth. Yes, Venice could be insanely crowded, but just five minutes on a boat and he could be in a deserted spot the tourists would never discover. London had been a wonderful adventure, the place where he had grown up, established himself, become a man in his own right, not just the Santoro heir, but he was ready to move on.
Except Sophie was here—and so his child would be here. Which meant London was his home too for the foreseeable future.
‘I don’t know this area at all.’ Sophie was looking around as the taxi inched its way around Hyde Park heading north. ‘I spent my first few nights in London at a cheap hotel near Euston while I looked for work and, once I had the job, rented a flat as close by the office as I could afford. Luckily I had a small savings account I’d kept from Harry—if he’d known, he’d have spent it on guitars or booze or a lads’ holiday. I was saving up for a wedding or a baby. Luckily I came to my senses before either of those chained me to him, but it did mean I could afford the first six months’ rent while I started to make a life for myself here. But I’m ashamed to say I haven’t explored London much at all in the year and a half I’ve been here. I’m usually working for Clio or working for myself at home.’
She sounded so matter of fact, Marco couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been starting afresh in a new city where she knew no one, had nothing. He had already had some contacts when he’d made the move over, a fledgling business and money enough to make the move easy and comfortable. Being his own man was so important to him, but, he acknowledged ruefully, it was easier to start from a position of privilege with a network of contacts than it was completely alone and from scratch. He might have the more successful business, the expensive house, the influential network, but Sophie had a grit and determination he could only hope to emulate and learn from.
