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‘Yeah, you do.’ A muscle pulled at his jaw. ‘You saw right through me.’
Slowly, she shook her head. ‘If that were true then I would never have slept with you.’
‘Oh, you would still have slept with me, cara. You would have told yourself that I needed saving, or maybe that I was misunderstood,’ he said calmly. ‘That’s what you do, Imma. You take care of people...you protect them.’
‘And so do you. You take care of people. That’s why they like you.’
Now he shook his head. ‘They like me because of how I look and how I make them feel about themselves.’
‘Your father didn’t feel that way.’
‘No, he didn’t. My father knew everything about me. He saw my weaknesses and he loved me anyway. He loved me completely and unconditionally and that was his weakness—like I said, I was his flaw.’
He smiled at her crookedly.
‘You asked me why he didn’t come to me and Ciro for help. Do you remember? You said that neither of his sons had what was needed to save him.’
‘I was angry.’
‘But you were right. Almost right.’ His shoulders tensed. ‘He couldn’t come to me. He knew I didn’t have any money because I’d just asked him for a loan. Another loan.’
The tension was spilling over into his shoulders now. And his spine was so taut it looked as though it might snap.
‘He could have gone to Ciro. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t—he didn’t want to do that to me. And that’s why he’s dead. Because he wanted to protect me—my ego, my pride. Just like he did my entire life.’
Imma felt sick. ‘That’s not true, Vicè.’
‘It is true.’ His voice cracked. ‘You were right about me. My whole life is a charade and my father played along with it until it killed him. And, you know, the worst part is that since his death I’ve had to just get on with it—and I have. So I could have done it all along. I could have been the son he wanted...the son he needed. Maybe if I had he’d still be alive.’
Tears pricked the back of her eyes. The pain in his voice cut her like a razor.
Reaching out, she took his hand. ‘You were the son he wanted. The son he loved. And if he protected you then it’s because he was your father and that was his job,’ she said, her longing to ease his pain giving emphasis to her words. ‘And I don’t think that’s why he didn’t ask you for help. With his reputation he could have gone to any number of people. But good men have their pride too.’
His fingers squeezed hers. ‘You’re a wonderful person, Imma. And I hate how I’ve hurt you.’
‘That’s done. Finished. Forgotten.’ Lifting her hand, she stroked his cheek. ‘You’ve forgiven my father and I’ve forgiven you.’
‘I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I should have made Ciro wait. Let his anger cool. Then probably none of this would have happened. But I felt guilty—guilty that we’d lost our father because of me.’ His face creased. ‘And then I messed it up anyway.’
Imma shook her head. ‘You didn’t mess it up. He did. Claudia heard him leaving you a message. I checked your phone afterwards, just to be certain. It was Ciro who messed up. Not you.’
* * *
Vicè stared at her in confusion.
Ciro had messed up? He almost wanted to laugh.
But then he caught sight of Imma’s face. Her green eyes were wide and worried, and—his heartbeat stalled—she was worried about him.
‘It doesn’t change anything.’ His chest felt tight. ‘It’s still on me, Imma. I was ashamed and angry with myself. But it was easier to blame your father, and that’s why I went along with everything. And now I’ve hurt you, and you’re having to live my charade too.’
‘Okay. But if you’re to blame, then so is Ciro,’ she said firmly. ‘And your father. And my father. They’re all responsible for their actions.’ She frowned. ‘And so am I. I’m not just a victim, and you’re not the villain.’
Her eyes met his, and he felt something inside him loosen.
‘Everyone is a work in progress, Vicè. Every new day is a chance to start again and do better. And it’s being with you that’s taught me that. Maybe you need to accept that too, and let go of the past?’
He stared at her, her words replaying inside his head, the rhythm of her voice soothing him. For the first time since his father’s death, maybe even before, he felt calm. The heaviness inside him that he hid so well was lifting.
