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Was it any surprise to Skye that her famously cold-hearted husband hadn’t been moved by the sight of the obviously hungry little boy? It was just another mark against him; another proof of his emotional detachment.
They walked in silence for a moment, Skye tasting her ice-cream, enjoying the sweetness and the relief of the cold texture on a very warm summer day. But somewhere near the Rialto Bridge she paused.
‘You gave him your gelato.’
Matteo nodded slowly. ‘So?’
‘Because you thought he looked hungry too.’ Skye scanned his face. ‘Because you did care!’
Matteo’s expression flashed with emotions Skye didn’t recognise.
‘And they say you don’t have a heart.’
‘I have a heart, cara,’ he promised. And her own stuttered to a stop, thumping hard in her chest. ‘And our baby will know that.’ He dropped his mouth towards hers and for a second she held her breath, expecting another kiss. Needing the gesture that was so simple and so complicated all at once.
But instead he took a bite off the top of her ice-cream, and she laughed instinctively, automatically. ‘Hey! I’m eating for two, don’t you know?’
He straightened, a smile in his eyes so obvious that her stomach flipped and flopped with warmth and with...love. She squashed the feeling.
She didn’t want it.
That knowledge sobered her.
‘I wonder what our child will be like,’ she said distractedly as they moved closer to the Grand Canal.
‘Can you imagine him or her?’
‘I sometimes have a dream,’ she said with a shrug of her slender shoulders. ‘I can see a little baby. Chubby with caramel skin like yours—dark eyes, dimples.’ She shrugged again. ‘But I guess all babies are a bit like that.’
‘It is how I picture our child too. A little girl with a fringe like yours.’
‘I don’t think babies are born with hair styles,’ she pointed out. ‘You think it will be a girl?’
He pulled a face. ‘I don’t know. I don’t care.’
‘Really? And here I had you pegged for one of those patriarchal guys who would be all about the male heir.’
He dug his hands into his pocket. ‘I was not close to my father,’ he said after a long silence, one that was heavy with his own reflections and memories. ‘My grandfather more or less raised me. Perhaps if I had seen a different example of father and son bonding I might yearn more for a son of my own.’ His lips twisted into a dismissive smile. ‘As it is, I just want our child to be healthy. And to have his mother’s heart.’
‘Yeah? Why is that?’
‘According to you, I don’t have one,’ he pointed out.
‘That’s according to everyone,’ she corrected, and began walking once more. One foot in front of the other. Trying not to think about his heart and their baby growing inside her. Nor to think about the way he’d moved inside her only the night before.
‘Si. And what do you think, Skye? Am I as heartless as everyone says?’
Her face paled. ‘I don’t think you should ask me that.’
‘Because your answer would hurt my feelings?’
‘Perhaps,’ she whispered. ‘Does it matter what I think?’
He was quiet for a moment, his expression serious, and then he smiled as though physically pushing the conversation aside. ‘I’m hungry. Shall we lunch?’
‘Didn’t we just finish breakfast?’
He made a tsking noise of disapproval. ‘And you say you are eating for two! Breakfast was hours ago.’ He reached down and wrapped his fingers around her hand, lifting the ice-cream cone to his lips while his eyes held hers. He took another bite.
