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“Yeah,” I give the shortest answer I can think of.
Better to stick to short statements when you’re lying, right? Still, I don’t know how much more of this I can do.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Antonio. “I don’t really remember much about… when I gave birth.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “A lot of women find it a blur, mostly because of all the pain and exhaustion. But there’s a moment they find crystal clear – when it’s all over and they see their baby for the first time. Do you remember that?”
“Of course,” I answer with a fake smile.
I’ve already made the choice to tell this one big lie. I can’t turn back now. All I can do is play my role and not get caught, which means I have to be as convincing as possible.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
I close my eyes and draw a deep breath. “I remember the first time I looked into those beautiful blue tear-filled eyes…”
“Tears?” Antonio asks me in a surprised tone that immediately lets me know I’ve said something I shouldn’t have. “Newborn babies don’t have tears.”
Shit.
“Right,” I quickly agree with him as I meet his gaze. “What I meant was that my eyes were filled with tears of joy as I looked at him… her.”
Stay calm, Triss.
To my relief, Antonio gives a nod of satisfaction. “I’m sure they were.”
He falls silent. Thank goodness he seems to have run out of questions. For now.
Now what? Do I end this conversation before I make any more mistakes? That seems like the sensible thing to do. I’m tired, and now that Lara seems to have settled in for the night, I should do the same. And yet I don’t want Antonio to go. I never knew how good it was to have company until now.
I decide to change the topic instead.
“You said the cops here are your friends?” I ask Antonio.
He nods. “The deputy chief, in particular, Ned, is a buddy of mine, ever since I saved his sister from drowning in the river years ago.”
I look at him with wide eyes. “Wow. You really are a hero.”
He doesn’t seem to have heard me. “He’s a good man, but be careful around him. He… likes women. Too much.”
“I see.”
What about Antonio? As hard as it is to believe, I think he’s single. I don’t see a wedding ring, and if he had a girlfriend, I would have seen her by now. Baby or no baby, doctor or no doctor, no woman would just let her boyfriend keep another woman under his roof. But why? Because he’s too busy saving lives? Or is there some other reason, like some fear or some heartbreak in his past that he hasn’t been able to overcome? I’m suddenly curious.
“You seem to have friends, a job you love, a nice house,” I say. “But this morning, you told me you understood how it felt to have nothing. Why did you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth,” he answers straightforwardly.
I still don’t understand. How? What does he mean, exactly?
“You should rest,” Antonio tells me instead of explaining. “You’ve had a long day.” He pats my shoulder. “Good night.”
Without waiting for me to answer, he turns and walks to the door. I stare at his back and clutch my chest, which suddenly feels tight and heavy.
“Wait,” I call after him as I take a step forward.
He stops.
“I’m sorry for prying,” I say.
He looks at me over his shoulder and shakes his head. “There’s no need to apologize. You weren’t prying. I’m not angry.”
Then stay, I want to tell him, but the words die in my throat.
“You really should sleep,” Antonio says. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I whisper.
He leaves the room and closes the door behind him. I climb on top of the bed and slip under the covers. As I stare at the ceiling, I can’t help but keep thinking of Antonio. He’s kind, very kind, but I can tell he has his walls up.
Why does he seem so alone even though he has a town full of people who count on him and look up to him? Why do his eyes look so lonely? What secret is he hiding behind them? What invisible burden is he carrying on his strong shoulders?
Most importantly, is there anything I can do to help him?
Chapter Four
Antonio
“Don’t force it, John.” I try to get my patient back into bed. “Your stomach may have finally settled, but you still need time to get your strength back.”
“I’m fine.” He tries to push me away. “I’m strong enough.”
His wife, who’s standing behind me, snorts. “Strong enough to mop your vomit off the floor and wash the clothes you’ve puked on? Because I’m not doing any more of that. Also, if you pass out while you’re at the old mill, I’m not going to ask anyone to carry your stinky ass home. Do you hear?”
