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“It can be undone, if that’s what you want.”
“No,” he shook his head, but what he wanted wasn’t easy to determine in that moment. “When she first came to Italy, I thought I hated her. I thought I wanted to make her pay for keeping me out of Jack’s life.”
“But you don’t.”
“No.” He expelled an angry breath. “It turns out, I actually do care about Elodie, and the idea of hurting her…”
“Why are you so sure you would?”
“Because I already have.” Fiero fixed Nico with a level stare. “I did the only thing I could Nico, for both of us. I did what I should have done all along.”
Chapter 13
A month after Elodie had left Rome, and Fiero’s opinion hadn’t changed: he’d done what was right for both of them, he’d done what had been required of him, just as he’d told Nico he would. Having seen the way he’d destroyed Alison with his inability to love her back, he knew that he’d never make that mistake again.
And surely he could never love Elodie. He desired her. He cared for her. He wanted her to be happy and well, but she’d crossed a line in the sand and he couldn’t forget that.
So this was the only solution: permanent estrangement. In time it would get easier, surely.
He’d used Emilia as a go-between from his London townhouse to her flat, ferrying Jack between the two of them on the pretext of his work and schedule, which meant he got to see his son without needing to see Elodie.
It was supposed to be the path of least resistance, the easiest option, but he had quickly discovered it wasn’t necessary to see someone in order to feel them. She was everywhere. She was the sweet smell in Jack’s clothes when Fiero picked him up to cuddle, she was in the little boy’s voice and smile, in his curious nature and kindness, she was in the handwritten instructions for him that he found in Jack’s suitcase – or which Emilia stuck on the fridge if she found them first. They were business like and to the point, but he somehow knew that she’d laboured over them, choosing her words with care. And they showed such care for their son, such love, that he knew how much it must hurt her to send him away for a night or two at a time. Jack is afraid of the dark right now. He needs a hallway light on while he goes to sleep. Be patient with him – it’s a phase. Or, He’s eating strawberries by the punnet! Don’t give him more than two punnets a day though or he gets a belly ache.
He could feel her hurt in each one, her anxieties. Fiero was doing that to her – hurting her even when he’d sworn that was the last thing he wanted.
He was trying to be accommodating. In the days, while he was at the office, Emilia took Jack back to Elodie’s, where things were as normal as they had been before the accident, but it was still a broken schedule and there was the constant reminder that Jack was no longer solely hers.
And he should never have been! Fiero knew that, but as more time passed, he found it harder to summon his original outrage, he found it hard to hold onto his anger with her, he found it harder to care about what she’d done, even when he knew he had to.
He adored Jack with all his heart and Elodie wa
s a part of him, so maybe she was right? Maybe on some level, he even loved her?
Whatever, the way he was handling things was for the best. Hands off, maintaining a cool, professional distance. It was the only way for them both to move forward with their lives, and God knew he desperately wanted that.
So why all of a sudden did he have an insane urge to see her? To prove that he could? To show himself how far he’d come? It had, after all, been a month. Surely by now whatever feelings had formed the jagged edge of their relationship at the end would be gone by now?
“You’re the best, thank you.” She pressed a kiss to Axel’s cheek, stepping towards the door. “Emilia will be here any minute. The bag’s all packed. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t –,”
“Go, go, I know,” Ax grinned, pressing the button on one of the trains so it started to wiz around the tracks. “Don’t forget to bring me a coffee.”
“I won’t,” she wrenched the door in, her eyes sweeping over Jack. She’d already buried him in cuddles and kisses that morning, storing up all his sweetness for while he was away, knowing what the night would be like, the emptiness in her soul a form of toxin.
“Bye sweetheart.” The words were hoarse. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to cry, and she hadn’t done that in front of Jack even once. She wasn’t about to start.
“Ciao, mama.” He loved his growing Italian vocabulary but it brought tears to Elodie’s throat so she pulled the door shut swiftly, almost jamming her finger in the latch, then took the stairs two at a time as she ran down to the front door and stepped onto the street. It was busy, as always, the aroma of the area filling her nostrils – the Indian restaurant on the corner with its fragrant spices, the pub downstairs with beer hops and fryer grease, and just a little way up the street, the small park that in summer smelled like cut grass and horses.
She was running late, and she didn’t want to be. She wanted to make a good impression. If she could get this consulting job then she’d have something to keep her mind occupied with, something to focus on while Jack was out of her apartment. It was a way of turning lemons into lemonade, something her mother had always encouraged her to do. The only possible upside to having Fiero and Emilia in her life was that she now had regular time without Jack – and as much as it was a little like her heart had been ripped out of its socket and left in the middle of the street, it was also an opportunity to get back to the kind of work she’d discovered she had a passion for, and was good at. Marketing wasn’t what she’d trained for but the skill seemed to come innately to her, the campaigns she’d been coordinating before Fiero had come into her life were proof of her aptitude in this area.
She pushed Jack, Fiero, everything from her mind except the preparation she’d done for this meeting, because she had to. She had to find a way to make her life go on, she couldn’t let this grief consume her.
But it was consuming her at the moment.
It was in the sleepless nights she spent staring at her ceiling, the phantom of Fiero so real in her mind that she could feel his touch on her flesh, running the length of her body, his kiss on her lips, his weight pressing her down into the mattress. It was in his smile and laugh, both of which haunted her when she did finally fall asleep, so that she woke with a start, and it was just like she’d described to him, each and every time – that confusion upon waking, like maybe she’d dreamed everything and she was actually back in Rome with Fiero only a room away…
He could do this. He’d see her, smile, enquire after her generally, take Jack and walk away. He could do this. Whatever compulsion he’d had to touch her, a month had passed. He was stronger than that, stronger than physical needs and their chemical connection.
He jabbed his finger into the button and waited.
