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She didn’t respond. What was she meant to do?
Did he expect her to get up and try to make a bid for freedom out of the air-conditioning vent?
There were no windows in the room.
No view of the outside. And somehow that felt appropriate, as though even the beauty of Venice had turned its back on her.
When Matteo came back a few minutes later, it was with a doctor clutching a chart. Her smile was sympathetic as she studied Skye.
‘I’m happy to let you go home,’ the doctor said without preamble. ‘So long as you’ll come back in a week, or at the first sign of any complications.’
‘What kind of complications?’ Matteo responded.
‘Oh, infection. Raised temperature. Anything out of the ordinary. Okay?’
Skye bit down on her lip and nodded, though she was barely comprehending. ‘Fine. Of course. Thank you.’ The words sounded so normal, but nothing was normal. The whole world was off its axis.
‘You will take care of her?’
‘Si.’ Matteo’s single-word answer was gruff. Skye squeezed her eyes shut against it. One syllable, so full of falsity. So unnecessary.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Skye murmured, attempting a smile. It felt awful on her lips, heavy and sodden all at once. She let it fall almost instantly.
The images she had allowed to populate her mind were disintegrating, like puffs of cloud she couldn’t reach out and grab. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to picture the baby she’d imagined them having. But he was gone. That chubby face wouldn’t come to mind. She couldn’t remember the dimples she’d seen there, nor the curls of dark hair.
She couldn’t see him! She couldn’t feel him!
Panic rose inside her, and then nausea, and she reached out instinctively. Matteo was there, his arms wrapping around her, holding her. He smelled so good, so strong, and he felt so right. But he was wrong. This was all wrong.
She stiffened and pushed away from him, swallowing away the pain in her throat. There would be a time to process this. For now, Skye was in survival mode.
A water taxi was waiting to take them home, and the boat operator was far cheerier than either Skye or Matteo had tolerance for. They sat in silence, shocked and uncomprehending as the boat steered them towards Matteo’s home.
It was a clear, sunshine-filled morning.
Skye’s heart felt only coldness.
When the boat came to a stop near Matteo’s, he held a hand out for her, to help her step out. Only the fact she was still in pain and discomfort implored her to take it. Just for the briefest possible moment.
She didn’t want to touch him.
She didn’t want to feel his touch.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, staring up at the villa. The geraniums were smiling down at her, encouraging her.
She blinked away from them. She did her best to blot out the sunshine too.
‘Come, cara.’ He put a hand in the small of her back. She stepped forward, shaking him free, moving as quickly as she could towards his front door.
Everything was different.
Not like before, when she’d returned to their marriage and she’d thought herself miserable.
She was truly miserable now, and she viewed everything through the veil of that misery and despair.
It was still only early in the day, and they’d hardly slept. The last twenty-four hours passed before her eyes like some kind of movie. They’d been in Rome and she’d been so happy, looking at the hotel and imagining the way they could heal the wounds that had caused its demise. Had she hoped it might lead him to love her?
