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‘I can see how much you want to pursue marketing, and use it to take Il Boschetto di Sole forward. I recognise that fire because I’ve felt it myself.’ In his case it had been born of a determination to succeed, in whatever he undertook. For Holly it was a real passion, born of itself. One life. ‘This is your life, Holly, take the risk. Go for it.’
‘It’s not that easy.’
The words ricocheted with an intensity that impacted him.
‘It’s no secret—you’ll find out soon enough. My father is ill.’
‘I am so sorry...’
Before he could say any more she waved a hand. ‘It’s OK. He has a long-term heart condition, managed with medication and a healthy lifestyle. But there is a chance he won’t make old bones, and I want him to see his grandchildren. I want my children to have a shot at knowing their grandfather. Even more so now. I want my father to know the Romano dynasty will continue. I want him to see his grandchildren running around these lemon trees, watch the lemons grow.’
The words silenced him, because he could see her point, but... ‘I understand that—I really do. But your father may live for years. And to have children you need...’
‘A father for them. I know.’ Her mouth took on a rueful twist.
‘Also, having children doesn’t preclude having a career.’
‘I know that too. But I want to spend time with my father and I want to be here for my children. Full time.’ The words vibrated with sincerity, even with love for these as yet unborn children. ‘That doesn’t mean I don’t agree with women working—I do. But for me it’s important to give my all to being a mother. I can always go for a career later on.’
She resumed walking, and as they emerged from the shade of the grove he could see an ancient stone chapel in the near distance.
Relief touched Holly’s face as she pointed to the building. ‘Now would be as good a time as any to show you the chapel. Then we can decide if we want the ceremony to take place there.’
The topic of her future was clearly closed.
CHAPTER TEN
AS THEY APPROACHED the chapel Holly realised she had been so caught up in their conversation that she hadn’t given a thought to the fact that this was her first visit to the chapel since her wedding fiasco. Not that she’d actually made it to the chapel then.
For a second her footsteps faltered. She wondered if perhaps she should have come here alone, to lay the ghosts of her nearly-wedding to rest. Yet somehow Stefan’s presence made her feel better. His sheer solidity, his energy, reinforced the knowledge that it had been better to have the fairy tale shattered before the ceremony rather than after.
Graham had wanted to marry her for her family position, to have a job for life. Had never loved her. Their whole union would have been fake, built on foundations of quicksand.
As they approached the chapel an old familiar sensation of peace crept over her. The ancient stone walls...the arched door with its honeysuckle surround... It was a place she had come to countless times when life’s complexities had overwhelmed her—when she’d been small and hurt by her mother’s indifference, an indifference that had bordered on dislike. Somehow the pews had given her comfort, and she’d studied the stained-glass windows, marvelling that those red and green and blue sainted figures had looked down and seen centuries, hundreds of people coming in hope of solace.
‘This is a beautiful place,’ Stefan said softly as they entered, and she knew from the reverence in his tone that he could sense the history in the very air they breathed.
As she watched him walk around she felt a strange warmth that he shared her appreciation of this hallowed place.
‘It’s always been special to me. My go-to place when life throws a curve ball.’
‘I get that, and I would understand if you don’t want our wedding to take place here. If you want to wait for the real thing.’
‘I’m not sure if I’ll ever experience “the real thing”. And somehow, because this marriage is for Il Boschetto di Sole, it feels right that we should do it here. This chapel must have seen countless marriages. Many of them will have been made for reasons of duty rather than love. Some of them will have been forced unions of misery and others will have been joyous.’ As she’d thought her marriage would be. ‘I think we should have the ceremony here. If you’re good with that?’
‘I’m fine with wherever we do it.’
‘No doubt you’d prefer to have the ceremony in a boardroom, with an agenda and the deal written out carefully. I, Stefan Petrelli, agree to marry you subject to the following terms and conditions.’
Odd that she felt able to tease him, and his smile made her heart give a funny little dip.
Then his expression took on a serious hue. ‘But really that is what marriage is—the ultimate deal between two people. You enter a pact to look after each other in sickness and in health. It’s a deal. It’s just a non-negotiable one that should last for life. Which is why I wouldn’t enter it—I don’t deal if I can’t keep my side.’
‘Does it bother you that we’ll be standing here taking vows we know we won’t keep?’
‘No, because we both know that this is a one-year deal. It will be With this ring I thee wed...for a year.’
The phrase rolled off his tongue and she gave a sudden shiver. The enormity of those vows, even for a year, felt huge even as she reminded herself they weren’t for real. They would be bound together for a year not by love but by legal necessity. Husband and wife. Any attempt to untie the knot before meant Il Boschetto di Sole would be forfeit.
