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To her surprise, the question didn’t bring the panic she might have expected. But she forced the thought away anyway. A pregnancy was highly unlikely. And today had been quite emotional enough already.
The last to say her goodbyes was Sophia, who gave Issy a final hug as Gio climbed into the Ferrari.
‘You must both come to the next battesimo, as it will be for my baby,’ she whispered, before standing back and winking at Issy. ‘And if Giovanni does as he is told, maybe the one after that will be yours.’
Issy waved furiously as Gio reversed the car down the farm track, sniffing back tears and trying not to take Sophia’s little joke to heart.
What she and Gio had was fleeting. That had always been understood.
But as the whole family shouted salutations at them, and a group of children raced after the car, a few tears slipped over her lids. This was what it felt like to belong, to be part of something bigger than yourself—and she’d never realised how much she wanted it until now.
‘That wasn’t so bad,’ Gio said, resting his palm on Issy’s knee as he turned the car onto the main road.
Issy sank into the leather seat and watched the dark shapes of San Giminiano’s fortress walls disappear into the night as Gio accelerated. Leaning her head against the door, she rested her palm on her belly, the emotion of the day overwhelming her.
‘Will you go back again?’ she asked.
He said nothing for several seconds. ‘I doubt it.’
Despite the murmured reply, a tiny smile touched the corners of Issy’s mouth. Was it wishful thinking, or did he sound less sure of himself than usual?
Easing up the handbrake, Gio stared at the woman fast asleep beside him in the car. She’d been incredible today. So beautiful, so captivating and so important to his peace of mind. He’d needed her there in a way he never would have anticipated.
All through the afternoon and evening, whenever the impact of being introduced to his family had become too much, his gaze had instinctively searched her out. As soon as he’d spotted her—chatting to Sophia and the other women, or playing games with some of the younger children, or charming his elderly uncles with her faltering Italian—and their eyes connected, his heartbeat had levelled out and the strangling feeling of panic and confusion had started to ease.
At one point she’d been cradling baby Carlo in her arms. He’d marvelled at how she could look so relaxed and happy, as if she were a part of this family, even though these people were strangers and she didn’t even speak their language. When his uncle had whispered in his ear, ‘She will make an excellent mother for your children, Giovanni. She is a natural.’
The old man was hopelessly traditional and sentimental. It hadn’t taken Gio long to realise that. But the foolish words had still made Gio’s heartbeat pound, just as it was doing now.
He continued to stare at her in the moonlight—her rich red hair framing that pale heart-shaped face and her hand lying curled over her belly. A picture of her lush body heavily pregnant with his baby formed in his mind. He imagined her full breasts swollen with milk, the nipples large and distended, and her belly round and ripe, ready to give birth. Desire surged to life so fast he had to grit his teeth.
Okay, this was more than temporary insanity. This was becoming an obsession. An obsession he was begin
ning to fear he had no control over whatsoever.
Adjusting his trousers, he waited in the darkness until he’d finally calmed down enough to scoop Issy up and carry her to their bedroom without causing himself an injury. She barely stirred. But as he undressed her and tucked her into bed the visions of her body ripe with his child refused to go away.
It wasn’t the desire that bothered him, though, as he climbed into bed beside her. Their livewire sexual attraction had always been as natural as breathing. It stood to reason a pregnant Issy would turn him on too.
What disturbed him much more was the irrational need and the bone-deep longing that went right along with the lust.
Sweat trickled down his back as the fear he’d been holding onto with an iron grip all day kicked him in the gut.
Issy squinted at the pre-dawn light filtering through the terrace doors, then moaned softly as cramping pain gripped her abdomen. Gio’s warm hand stirred against her hip as she listened to the low murmur of his breathing, and tears caught in her throat. The familiar pain could mean only one thing. She was about to start her period.
She bit down hard on her bottom lip, lifting his hand and laying it down behind her. She didn’t want to wake him up and have him see her in this state. Slipping out of bed, she made a beeline for the bathroom.
After taking care of the practicalities, she donned one of Gio’s bathrobes and sat on the toilet seat, feeling utterly dejected. Which was ridiculous.
The fact that there was no baby was good news.
She’d have to be an idiot to want to get pregnant under these circumstances. She wasn’t ready for motherhood yet. And Gio certainly wasn’t ready to be a father. Yesterday’s trip had proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. The man was deeply suspicious of love and families and relationships in general. And even though that may have started to change, it would take a lot more than an afternoon spent with his extended family to repair the damage his parents had done.
But, despite all the calm common-sense justifications running through Issy’s mind, she felt as if a boulder were pressing against her chest, making it hard for her to breathe.
She got off the toilet seat and reached for some tissues, swiped at her cheeks to catch the errant tears. She blew her nose, brushed her fingers through her hair and stared blankly into the mirror, but the boulder refused to budge.
As she stared at her reflection she thought of Gio the evening before, his cheeks flushed a dull red while his uncle bade him farewell.
