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His eyes narrowed; he continued to stare at her, so her smile dropped and her cheeks grew warm.
“It must have been hard, then, to walk away from your fiancé.”
“It was either that or my business.”
“Mmm, but if the aim of your business was financial independence and he could offer that –,”
She shuddered. “Relying on someone else isn’t true independence,” she pointed out.
“You could have picked up a legal job.”
“You think I made the wrong decision?”
“Hell, no. I think the guy sounds like a bastard and leaving him was very smart.”
She grimaced. “He was just selfish and immature.” She sighed softly. “You’re right though. It was hard to leave him. But the day I realised that I wanted a marriage more than I wanted him was the day I knew it was over. And he wanted an ornamental wife more than he wanted me – I don’t mean that I’m anything special, just that I was there, willing to marry him, and he knew I’d be able to make conversation at his political fundraisers, that my academic pedigree would reflect well on him.” She groaned. “I don’t know how I ever thought I could live with the guy, to be honest.”
“He was offering you something you wanted, desperately.”
“Yes. But it wasn’t enough.”
He nodded once. “And what was the third thing?”
She didn’t immediately follow.
“That you wanted, as a teenager, more than anything in the world?”
She twisted her lips to the side, shaking her head softly. “It’s silly.”
He was quiet, silently inviting her to continue.
“I just wished my mum would come back.” Her eyes swept shut as she thought of Jude, her throat swelling with tears. “She was so beautiful, Gabe. She was kind and happy and she’s the only person who’s ever really loved me.” God, it hurt to admit that, and yet there was a form of catharsis in baring her soul to him. “You have no idea how badly I longed for her, on so many occasions. I’ve made my peace with her absence now, even though I still miss her, and the idea of her. But I try to honour her every single day, by making decisions I know she’d be proud of. By being the woman I know she hoped I’d become.”
Gabe’s expression was impossible to decipher, but it didn’t matter. Isabella felt as though a weight had been lifted off her chest just by making that admission.
“And so you came to Italy looking for an insight into your birth mother.”
She tilted her head to the side. “More than that, I was hoping I’d feel like I…belong. Like something snapping into place.”
“That sense of displacement is difficult to walk alongside.”
She lifted a brow. “Speaking from experience?”
His expression was guarded, and something clanged in the back of her mind. He’d mentioned ‘Yaya’ often, but never his parents. “Somewhat.”
It gave very little away. Frustration zinged through her chest. She wanted to push him, but at the same time, already knew Gabe had opened so much of himself to her. Was there merit in going gently, gently?
“My grandparents had three children. I think I told you about my aunt?”
“Who married someone they didn’t approve,” she nodded, sipping her coffee, glad he was continuing to talk, even though she had the impression whatever he was about to say was putting pressure on a very painful wound. And for no reason except that she suspected he needed it, she laced her fingers through his as she looked up into his face.
“My experience of Gianfelice and Yaya was that they were very strict. Loving, too, but we were allowed to get away with nothing.” He winced. “I, as the youngest, was perhaps the hardest to bring into line.”
She squeezed his hand.
“But with my father and uncle, it was a different story. Gianfelice was heavily involved in his business when they were young, and Yaya supported him. But more than that, their children were very spoiled, aware of their wealth and allowed to luxuriate in the knowledge they would never have to work a day in their lives. They went to the very best schools and colleges, but instead of making the most of those opportunities, they fell in with people from similar backgrounds. Money was no object in their social set. They flew around the world from one lavish party to the next, frequently high or drunk on one bender after another. After my aunt left home, Yaya was quite broken. She stopped focussing on my father and uncle at a time when they were losing themselves completely to the hedonism of a certain lifestyle.”
“That’s understandable. Being estranged from her daughter must have been very hard.”
