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She couldn’t understand how he could talk about any of this so calmly. It felt as if he’d reached a fist into her chest and was squeezing all the blood from her pumping heart.
‘My future was written the second I saw you, Lucia.’ He hadn’t raised his voice once. His words were calm and steady. He was so resolute.
She leaned across the table towards him. ‘I can’t talk about this,’ she hissed.
It was the first time she saw a little spark in him. He gritted his teeth. ‘Well, you have to. It’s about time. You owe it to our daughter.’
She pulled back as if he’d wounded her. But Logan wasn’t finished. ‘You owe it to our daughter to talk about her and give her the love and respect she deserves.’
Her head was swimming. ‘How dare you! You know I loved Ariella.’
‘But you don’t honour her memory.’
‘What does that mean?’
Logan rubbed the palms of his hand on his trousers. It was obvious this was upsetting him just as much as it was upsetting her.
He took a deep breath. ‘It means you walked away, Lucia. You walked away from the memory of our daughter and the memory of what we used to have. I think about her every single day. It doesn’t matter that you’re in Venice and she’s in Tuscany. I visit her grave every month. You could too. But as far as I know you haven’t been there since the day we buried her.’
Fury erupted inside her. Tears were brimming in her eyes but they just couldn’t come any further—she hadn’t been able to cry since the day they’d buried their daughter. From that point on everything had been locked inside.
‘I can’t go there. I can’t visit.’
‘Why?’ He wouldn’t stop. He wasn’t going to let this go. It would have been better if they’d never seen each other again. The last thing she needed was stirring up the memories of Ariella Rose and any association with Logan did just that.
She wasn’t able to separate the parts of him from their daughter. She couldn’t just remember his kiss, his touch without remembering where it had led them. Couldn’t block out all the pain it had caused.
‘I just can’t.’
‘Then maybe that’s what we should do.’
She felt herself bristle. ‘Don’t tell me what to do, Logan. We haven’t known each other in a long time—you have no right.’
He stood up sharply, his chair screeching backwards, and she held her breath, wondering what would come next. The waiter stuck his head out of the door of the restaurant, watching carefully.
But Logan just shook his head, stretched out his back, then took a few steps towards her and knelt beside her chair.
She was still holding her breath as he slid his hand up and took hers. She hadn’t realised it but her hands were cold and the warmth from him completely enveloped her.
His voice was quiet again, this time almost pleading. ‘I have every right. We lost our daughter together. Who do you think I get to talk about Ariella Rose with? Who do I get to share the memories of our daughter with? I want to remember what we lost, Lucia. I loved her with every part of my heart—just as you did.’ He sighed and looked up, meeting her gaze.
‘This isn’t just about you any more, Lucia. It was twelve years ago. I would have done anything to help you grieve, to comfort you after the loss of our daughter. But I’ve realised this is about me too. It wasn’t enough just to make the arrangements. It wasn’t enough to say a prayer. It wasn’t about giving you the space you needed. I watched you fall apart right under my nose, I watched you shut yourself off from the world and bury yourself away. I thought I had no right to force you to talk. I thought I had to let you do this your own way. But twelve years on? I was wrong, Lucia. I was very wrong. For you, and for me.’
She squeezed her eyes closed again. She couldn’t take his intense and sincere glance. This was exactly what she’d always tried to avoid.
It had been too much. Too much to think about. She couldn’t bear it.
And now here was Logan—her strong, able Logan—telling her how much he’d been hurt too. He’d never worn his heart so much on his sleeve as he was doing now and it was tearing her apart.
She’d never even contemplated his hurt. His grief. She’d been too selfishly trying to cope with her own. Logan had appeared so composed, so strong. Now his face looked as if it had worn a river of grief across it. She could see her own pain reflected in his eyes, the tight grip of her hand telling her more than she wanted to know.
