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As they’d left Portofino he had asked her if she wanted to listen to the radio. Then he had asked if she wanted him to turn up the air-conditioning.
At no point had he asked her to stay.
At the airport he had offered to go in with her, but her nerves had been in shreds by then and she had simply shaken her head.
Her throat tightened. He hadn’t used his legendary powers of persuasion to convince her otherwise. Maybe he had been daunted by her silence.
The other, more devastating but more likely explanation was that he had been desperate for her to be gone so that he could get back to the sweet, easy life he’d had before meeting her...
Walking into the villa, she forced herself to unpack her shopping and put it away before checking her phone for messages. At first she had checked it obsessively, but as the hours had turned into days and the days had become weeks she had forced herself not to look.
Before leaving, she had agreed with him that they would say nothing to their families. She couldn’t remember who had suggested it, but she was glad. There was no way she could face her father’s I-told-you-so reaction—or, worse, his clumsy attempts to try and make amends. Nor did she want to confide in Claudia. She was doing so well right now, and she feared offloading her problems on to her sister would ruin the fragile peace Claudia had found.
Peace, and happiness at the discovery she was having a baby.
Her breath twisted in her throat.
She had wanted to go to her, of course, but Claudia had been firm and, hearing the flicker of determination in her voice, Imma had understood that her sister needed to prove she could cope alone.
So she had carried on speaking to both of them every couple of days, acting as if nothing had happened, making sure that the conversation merely touched on Vicè.
Her stomach clenched. Against her will she was living another charade, and it was only through sheer effort of will that she dragged herself out of bed each morning, got dressed and made herself eat breakfast.
Incredibly, the one person she found herself wanting to talk to was Audenzia. During those few hours in Florence she had found herself admiring her quiet strength and love of life.
Under other circumstances she would have liked to get to know her better.
But now, of course, that was impossible.
Almost as impossible as stopping all these incessant what-if and if-only thoughts.
Glancing out of the window, she felt her heartbeat slow. She couldn’t see Portofino from the villa, but that didn’t stop her from closing her eyes and imagining. What would he be doing right now?
Opening her eyes, she pushed the thought away before it could spiral out of control. Each morning she promised herself that she wouldn’t think about Vicè until lunchtime, and today she had almost managed it—that was something to celebrate.
In fact, she was going to celebrate. She was going to take her lunch to the beach and have a picnic. Even though the ‘beach’ was not really a beach at all—more a patch of sand in a rocky alcove.
After she’d finished eating, she watched the Palermo to Naples ferry heading off towards the mainland. It made her feel calmer, thinking about all those people on board, with all their hopes and dreams buzzing inside their heads.
Her heart might have been broken by Vicè but that didn’t mean her life was over. She was going to be all right. He might not love her, but she couldn’t regret the time they had spent together. He had taught her to be brave, to take risks.
Yes, she loved him still. Maybe she always would. But she was ready to face the world. On her terms.
Standing up, she brushed the sand off her legs and began to walk carefully across the rocks and back up to the house. But as she reached the villa her feet suddenly faltered.
A man was waiting for her.
Her heart began to pound.
Not because he was a stranger.
But because he wasn’t.
She stared at him, stunned and furious. Even if she wanted to run—and she did—nothing seemed to be functioning. Instead she stood woodenly while Vicè walked slowly towards her.
How had he found her? And, more importantly, why was he here?
He had no right to come here—not when she was finally beginning to get him out of her head, if not her heart, she thought as he stopped in front of her, his dark hair blowing in the breeze.
