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He took a long drink of his coffee, the first sip of the morning always a balm, then moved out into the garden, his eyes instinctively gravitating to the flat piece of land down by the sea. Without any forethought he moved there, legs long, carrying him with ease over the ground he knew so well, mind running over the predicament he found himself in.
He wasn’t a foolish eighteen-year-old any more, under her spell for the first time, but nor was he blind to the problems that would arise if he let them become more entangled. His life was predicated on being alone, on being able to walk away from anyone and anything at any time. It was easy to exist in a world with tragedy and unfairness if one didn’t develop attachments. If one didn’t love.
The accident would not have destroyed him the way it did if he’d loved his parents and brother less. If his heart had been more under his control, he wouldn’t have known that deep, gaping pain.
And again, as an eighteen-year-old, when Alicia’s father had thrown him out...
Being alone was now his preferred mode of living, and Alicia was a grave threat to that. Or she would be, if he didn’t continue to exercise total control in all their interactions—if he let himself forget that she would be leaving in a matter of days, if he let himself dream, for even a moment, that there could be a future for them... The whole point of having her here was to prove—to himself and her—that he could control his desire for her, that he could walk away on his own terms.
He finished his coffee, then bent down to retrieve her clothes from the night before, his hand fisting around the soft, dewy fabric before breathing in deeply and smelling her scent, sweet like vanilla. His gut rolled. There would be no future. Even though she’d explained her version of what had happened back then, it didn’t change Graciano’s reality.
Twice in his life, Graciano had known the god-awful pain of having had the rug pulled out from under him, the discombobulating certainty that his life was altered for ever and that he was powerless to contain that—once, when the car accident had taken his parents and brother from him, and again, when he’d known he’d lost Alicia. It was a pain he’d never open himself up to again. He would never allow himself to be destroyed like that again; he wasn’t sure he’d recover a third time. He had to get away from her, from this, from their past, and the suddenly compelling lure of a future with the woman he’d sworn he’d always hate.
Alicia blinked away from the startlingly beautiful view of the ocean awash with the sun’s morning light. At the sound of a glass door sliding open, her heart gave a now familiar lurch at the sight of Graciano. He was fully dressed, in a pair of dark trousers and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, and something inside of her tipped totally off balance.
‘I didn’t realise you were out here.’
Her heart flip-flopped.
‘I was just having a coffee.’ She pushed a smile to her lips, telling herself she was imagining the coldness to his tone. ‘Want to join me?’
His response was immediate: a swift shake of his head. Her heart dropped to her toes.
Graciano didn’t leave, so that was something. But the longer he stood there without speaking, just frowning, the more she felt the ground beneath her shift.
Did he regret what had happened? Was he angry with her again? If so, what on earth for? She racked her memory for their conversation the night before, but couldn’t find a single point over which they’d argued.
Her stomach knotted and she turned away, her eyes chasing the lines of the ocean instead.
‘I have meetings in Barcelona today.’
He was leaving. Running away?
She pursed her lips. ‘I see.’
‘I’ll be back for dinner.’
She angled her face towards him, pride demanding she keep her feelings concealed. She wouldn’t let him see that she was hurt by that—that she was worried. ‘You don’t have to report your movements to me.’ She softened the acidity of the words with a tight smile.
‘I thought you might notice my absence,’ he said after a pause, a small shrug shifting his shoulders. ‘It’s a courtesy.’
‘Noted.’ She tapped the papers beside her—notes she’d been making about his event. ‘I have plenty to keep me busy, don’t worry.’
‘I’m not worried. I’m just letting you know that I’ll be gone for the day.’
‘And I’m saying, I don’t care.’ Hurt made her words more acerbic, the stinging tone designed to hide the way he’d upset her so easily. ‘What happened last night doesn’t change anything, Graciano. You didn’t tell me the first time you went away for work. You don’t have to tell me this time. It’s fine.’ Bitterness flooded her body as she spoke words she didn’t feel, as she picked a fight she didn’t want, and for no reason other than that she was disappointed—disappointed that he’d come out here frowning and cool, rather than wrapping her in his arms and kissing her, disappointed that he’d immediately delineated a line between the passion they’d indulged the night before and how he wanted things to be outside the bedroom.
Disappointed that she’d let herself hope, even without realising she was doing it, for more—for something different in her life. For Graciano.
For a family.
The thought was so strong, so achingly searing, that she almost gasped. Had she really let herself fantasise about that? About the last ten years evaporating into thin air, and them becoming parents to their daughter, one happy family after all this time?
What a fool!
‘Isabella has my contact information. If you should need anything, just call.’
She forced an over-bright smile to her face. ‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary.’
