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“Yes,” he murmured, moving deeper into the room and flashing a glance at Lauren now. “I got here last night.”
“Last night!” She tsked, but the effort cost her so she coughed a little. Lauren reached for the glass of water, holding it towards Yaya, but the older woman waved it away with an impatient shake of her head. “No, no, I’m okay. You’re like all of them, worried all the time for me.”
Lauren replaced the water glass and stood from the chair that had been placed at the side of the bed.
“How are you?” Raf’s question was for Yaya, but his eyes briefly met Lauren’s. She looked away quickly, focussing on Yaya’s face.
“Eh, I’ve been better, I’ve been worse.” Her smile was beautiful.
“I’ll take this to the kitchen,” Lauren reached for the tray but Yaya batted her hands away once more.
“No, no, you’ll stay and meet my grandson. This is Raf.” Pride burst from the older woman’s voice.
“Actually, as a matter of fact, we met last night,” Lauren said carefully, not revealing a hint of emotion.
“Ah! I didn’t know. I didn’t know. Why’d you come last night, Rafaello?”
“I wanted to wake up here.”
Yaya looked towards the window. “There’s nothing like mornings at Villa Fortune, eh?”
“No,” Raf’s grin was pure devilish charm. “There’s nothing like it anywhere in the world.”
“And you would know,” Yaya chided gently. “You’re forever travelling away from me. Where have you been?”
Raf came to the other side of the bed, putting his hand over Yaya’s. Her expression softened into one of beatific joy.
“Argentina.”
“Oh? Why?”
Lauren monitored the back and forth between the two of them with interest. Yaya’s nurses preferred her to relax, not to have long and in-depth conversations, but Lauren disagreed with that advice wholeheartedly. When time was running out, conversations and thoughts were the most important things to share. There was no prolonging Yaya’s life now. It would run its course, but the last weeks, months, however long she was with them for, should be happy and full.
“Don’t tell me, a girl.”
Raf’s grin was charming, and his eyes flashed when they met Lauren’s. “It’s women, these days, Yaya, not girls.”
“Si, but you’ll always be a teenager to me.”
Raf sat on the side of the bed, so he was at Yaya’s eye height. “It wasn’t a woman,” he contradicted.
“No?”
“No.”
“Your brother’s m
arried now. Two of your cousins as well.”
“Yes, and as a result, you’ve got Jack and the twins, Estelle and Cara, so there’s no need to look to me for the production of a child,” Raf reminded Yaya in a tone that made Lauren certain this was a conversation they’d had many times. Yaya had spoken of her great grandchildren often, able to rattle off their names, hobbies, ages and most favoured foods at the drop of a hat. Lauren had amassed an encyclopaedic knowledge of Yaya’s family since arriving in Italy.
“Children are such a blessing, Raf. You shouldn’t ignore that.”
Raf winked. “I won’t.”
“You’re getting old. No woman will want you.”
He turned to Lauren. “Is that true, Miss…?”
