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‘But you have a great handle on Italian. Or at least you did when we were together.’
She shrugged and he cursed himself for being distracted by the delicate movement of her shoulder. ‘Since I seem to have misinterpreted so much of what you said to me in Italian, maybe I didn’t have as great a handle on the language as I thought.’
He deserved that but it didn’t make him seethe any less. ‘I want her to learn my language.’
To his surprise, she nodded. ‘I don’t have any objection. Lucia is already teaching her. She’s a very quick study. I’m sure she’ll pick it up easily enough.’
Her easy capitulation unsettled him even further. Seeing his reaction, she shrugged again. ‘I’m determined to be hysteria-free from now on, Cesare. Deal with it.’
‘Deal with it?’ He wasn’t sure why that particular statement made him angrier.
‘Do you mind taking care of Annabelle this morning? I know we’re supposed to spend weekends with her but I need to check out the lighting for the blessing in the church and the caretaker can only make today.’
‘Where is this church?’ he bit out.
‘The Duomo in Amalfi.’
‘I’ll drive you there.’
‘There’s no need.’
He set his coffee down. ‘Sì, there’s every need. If we all go together then we don’t break the agreement to spend time with our daughter. Where is she, by the way?’
‘She took a detour to the kitchen to ask Lucia to put blueberries in her pancakes. But—’
Before she could protest further about his decision to drive into Amalfi with her, Annabelle flew onto the terrace, her hair streaming behind her like a fast-flowing river. His heart caught with joy, then sang with pride when she greeted him in halting Italian.
‘Buon giorno, piccolina,’ he responded, trying to keep his voice steady.
* * *
Ava watched the play of emotion on Cesare’s face as he lifted Annabelle onto his lap for a kiss. Another sliver of unease darted through her. On the surface, Cesare’s request that Annabelle learn Italian had seemed innocuous. But she couldn’t dismiss the anxiety that settled in her stomach like a lead balloon.
Was she blowing everything out of proportion, just like she’d blown her importance to Cesare out of proportion? Maybe Cesare was being exactly what he claimed—an Italian father with the natural urge to speak his language with his child.
Her fingers stilled on the banana she was peeling for Annabelle and she watched father and daughter converse—one voice a deep, gravelly tone, the other a childish but attentive copying that filled her heart with equal measures of pride and pain.
As if sensing her gaze, Cesare glanced up.
The breath left her lungs and her heart careened around her ribcage like a crazed animal seeking freedom.
Even after Annabelle grabbed her banana and settled in her seat to munch on it, he continued to stare at her. Heat arced between them, just like it had from the very first time they’d met.
Once again the stinging betrayal of her need echoed between her legs. A helpless moan escaped her before she quickly disguised it as a cough.
His eyes darkened nevertheless.
‘Stop it,’ she muttered fiercely.
He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. ‘Can’t help it.’
‘Try harder!’ Or she was scared she’d spontaneously combust the way her pulse was skittering out of control.
Tawny eyes narrowed. ‘Is that an order?’
‘It’s a friendly health warning.’
His smile was pure male arrogance, his gaze unwavering as he sipped his coffee.
‘My parents wish to see Annabelle. I also have a few meetings in Rome, so it would be a good time to make it happen.’
‘How are they coping with...’ she paused, her glance sliding to Annabelle ‘...with what happened to Roberto?’
A flash of pain passed over Cesare’s face, his eyes straying to Annabelle. ‘As most parents would, I expect.’ His gaze returned to Ava. ‘They need not know about our...situation just yet. I don’t want them upset.’
Ava abandoned the pretence of eating and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘They know we’ve lived apart for a year, Cesare.’
‘But my mother assumes since we’re both here, living under the same roof that we’ve resolved our differences. Once the summer is over, we’ll update them on what they need to know.’
Against her will, but because she didn’t want to cause any further distress to newly bereaved parents, she nodded. ‘When were you thinking of going to Rome?’ Annabelle’s grandparents doted on her and she’d never deny Orsini and Carmela di Goia the chance to see their granddaughter.
