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I snap the box closed before putting it aside. My voice is flat. “Yes, they’re pretty.”
She takes Angelo’s hand. “Look. Cookies!”
He studies me as he walks to the table before breaking our eye contact to inspect our work. “They look delicious. You’ve been busy.”
“I know the alphabet too.” In Sophie’s excitement, her tongue trips over the words. “Do you want to hear it?”
“Absolutely.” He smiles at her. “In a minute. I first need a word with Sabella in private.”
“It’ll have to wait.” My manner is cool. “We have cookies in the oven and another batch about to go in.” I add with a bite in my tone, “As you can see.”
“In that case, I’ll get the groceries from the car.” Turning to Sophie, he asks, “Would you like to help?”
“Sure,” she says, skipping out ahead of him.
He gives me another intense look before walking from the kitchen.
I blow out the breath trapped in my chest and inhale deeply to calm myself. The last thing I want is to lose my temper in front of Sophie.
Angelo unpacks the groceries while Sophie and I finish our baking. Once he’s sampled the cookies and praised her for reciting the alphabet flawlessly, she settles at the kitchen table with her new coloring book, and he takes me upstairs to the bedroom to talk.
My back goes stiff when he closes the door behind him. I hug myself and face the window. I don’t look at him. I can’t. I’m too angry. Too helpless. Optionless. I haven’t been this furious since the day I confronted him in his hotel room when I discovered he used me to steal information from my dad. Back then, I slapped him. I attacked him physically. I’m not that girl any longer, the one whose heart he broke. I’m a grown woman now, an adult who should be able to control herself better, but I still want to pound my fists on his chest and hurt him like he hurt me.
His voice is soft but insistent. “Sabella.”
My muscles tense further.
“Look at me,” he says.
I don’t want to because there’s nothing to say.
When his warm, strong fingers close around my shoulder, I give a start. He squeezes in a comforting gesture before turning me toward him.
“You’re angry.”
My laugh is wry. “No kidding.”
“Don’t you like the earrings?”
“Are you serious? Do you believe giving me a couple of diamonds will make what you did go away? That you can buy me? Is that how little you think of me?”
He drops his arm at his side. “I don’t think little of you.”
“No?” I glare at him. “Are you telling me you hold me in such a high regard that you threw my birth control pills away and then disappeared for days while I was going out of my mind with anguish trying to bring down Sophie’s fever?”
“I’m sorry.”
The sincerity of the words takes me aback.
“What happened with Sophie will never happen again,” he continues. “I promise you that. I’ll get you a phone so that you can call me in case of an emergency.”
I’m too bitter to forgive him just like that. What he did is inexcusable. But I do need a phone. Swallowing my pride, I ask, “Will I be able to call freely? Anyone I want?”
He doesn’t answer.
Thought so. My smile is resentful. “Only you?”
“Yes,” he says with a solemness that sounds so definite that my anger burns hotter.
