by Ella Hayes
* * *
‘Zach, this is beautiful!’
Happy light in her smile, eyes sparkling. It’s what he’d been hoping for. He tugged her close, kissed her hair, breathed in the soft musk of her perfume. The warmth of her body flowed into the hand he’d pressed to her waist and he could feel it moving through his veins, transforming itself into the stirrings of an immeasurable want. He released her quickly, stepped back so she could follow the waiter who was leading them across the terrace to a balcony table overlooking the sea and the tangerine heat of the sunset.
He’d never been to Ambruosi, the restaurant at the Palazzo Broccardi. That was part of its appeal—he’d wanted to take her somewhere that would be new for both of them. More than anything, he wanted some time alone with her, away from work, away from anything familiar, and this was perfect! A sunset, a balmy evening, candles on the table and Piazzolla’s Oblivion playing in the background. He ordered wine, watched as Olivia looked around delightedly. Such a lovely face, little gold studs glinting in her earlobes, her neck smooth and lightly tanned.
Two weeks had passed since the shoot on Capri. Two more weddings had taken place at Casa Isabella plus a last-minute renewal of vows celebration that had disrupted their routine. Both he and Olivia had been busy. He’d managed to spend some time with Alessia, and Olivia had accompanied him to his gigs at the bar but, apart from evening walks in the garden and the occasional sundowner on the terrace, they hadn’t seen much of each other.
In truth, he’d been preoccupied with business matters. His father had floated the idea of a second wedding venue in Italy, wanted Zach to start searching for a suitable property. For some reason it had felt as if the walls were closing in.
He’d needed their afternoon at the beach...time with Alessia and Olivia, living in the moment. The memory of Liv in her swimsuit, smooth skin on her arms and legs, the way her back had felt, warm and silky... He hadn’t wanted to stop his fingers moving over her skin, and now she was sitting here in a soft dress that skimmed in all the right places, her face glowing. It was hard to keep focus.
When the waiter had poured the wine he lifted his glass. ‘Here’s to freedom!’
‘Freedom?’
‘Getting away from the grind...’
She lifted an eyebrow. ‘I’ll drink to that.’ She took a sip from her glass and set it down. ‘It’s relentless, isn’t it...running a wedding venue. I thought wedding photography was demanding but at least it’s just one day—’ She pulled a thinking face. ‘Followed by three days on the computer, admittedly, but the venue thing, dealing with people all the time—that’s full-on.’
He took a long sip of his wine, held it in his mouth for a moment. ‘It’s relentless.’ She was reading his mind! He pictured his father at the other end of the phone. ‘Casa Isabella’s been a huge success. We should repeat the winning formula with a new venue.’ He pushed the thought away—dwelling on it would only make him morose.
She toyed with the stem of her glass. ‘Zach, why don’t you employ a manager?’
His heart caught. A tiny needle-prick. He picked up his glass again. She was looking at him, eyes keen, endlessly curious. That feeling again, walls closing in. He sipped his wine then drew a measured breath.
‘I suppose it’s got a lot to do with Izzy...the fact that she loved it so much. I’ve felt a responsibility for...’ His eyes drifted to the sun, fading to a blush on the horizon. Unpacking the past. Maybe he should talk about things more. Open up. He turned back to Olivia, met her gaze.
‘Izzy’s family had a restaurant in Naples. She grew up with it, helped out, but she was ambitious. She had big plans! She studied hospitality and business at university. After she got her degree, she found an investor, persuaded her family to renovate the restaurant, take it more upmarket. That’s where I met her.’ He smiled. ‘I’d been bumming around Europe in a band, playing little gigs, deluding myself that we were going places. We got to Naples and our singer bailed, then the band split and I was killing time, wondering what to do... I went into Izzy’s restaurant one night and she took my order... I went back the next day, and the day after that...’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘I suppose we had a lot in common, my family being in the hotel business...
‘I wanted to stay in Naples but I needed a career change, needed to make some money, so I went home, started working for Merrill Hotels. Dad was thrilled—his son and heir was finally on the right track. I started a new line of boutique hotels, high-end places. It was going well but I wanted to marry Izzy and live in Italy, so I decided to buy a hotel here. Dad liked the idea of a European expansion, said he’d invest. So I moved to Italy and started looking, but then Izzy’s father died and Lucia didn’t want to carry on with their restaurant any more. Izzy and I were married by that time. It seemed like the perfect moment for us to find a hotel we could run together...
‘We did a road trip, viewed a lot of places that didn’t quite hit the mark, and then Izzy found Casa Dorato—that’s what it was called then—it means “Golden House”.’ His mouth suddenly felt dry and he picked up his glass, took a slow slip. ‘It wasn’t the going concern we’d been looking for. It was in a terrible state but we saw something in it and Izzy said we should turn it into the most romantic wedding venue on the Amalfi Coast.’ He smiled. ‘My father took some persuading because of the renovation cost but Izzy could be very persuasive...’
‘And then you lost her...’ Olivia’s eyes were glistening.
He swallowed hard. ‘Aside from the grief, I felt...stranded. Does that make sense?’ It suddenly occurred to him that Olivia, of all people, would understand. ‘Like when your dad left—that feeling of the rug being snatched from under your feet. I had a half-renovated palazzo and a baby. The only thing I could think of was finishing what we’d started. Knowing how much Izzy had wanted it was reason enough for me to do it...and then, when it was finished, I wanted to make sure it was a success—for her.’
He smiled. ‘I know I should get a manager. For one thing, I need to spend more time with Alessia but letting go isn’t all that easy.’
‘Maybe it’s because you still feel stranded—’ Olivia was gazing at him over the rim of her wine glass. ‘I mean, if you let go of the reins, what comes next? It’s a scary thought.’ She sipped her wine. ‘I think it’s why I stayed with Ralph for so long. The alternative seemed so much worse—striking out on my own again—maybe failing again. In the end he forced my hand. Did I ever tell you that?’
‘No! You said you were going out on your own.’
She laughed. ‘Well, the truth is that Ralph gave me a little push, and then you called and offered me this great opportunity—I mean, what are the chances?’ She smiled. ‘Maybe that’s all you need—a little push.’
As the waiter set out their entrées he turned her words over in his head. Letting go...what comes next?...chances... Could Olivia be his second chance? Maybe it was time to come out of the shallows...
* * *
Zach reached for her hand. ‘Dance with me...’
They were walking along a tree-lined path that ran below the restaurant terrace. Small footlights illuminated the tree trunks, fairy lights twinkled in the branches. She recognised the music drifting down from the restaurant, eddying around them like little waves. She smiled hesitantly. ‘Here?’
‘Why not...? There’s music!’
There was something in his eyes that told her resistance would be futile, so she smiled and stepped into his arms. He pulled her close, started to move her around in a slow circle. His hand at her back felt firm and warm.
She looked into his face. ‘I know this music...’
‘It’s famous! Gymnopédies by Eric Satie. I play it sometimes...’ His eyes went hazy and he leaned in, brushed her lips with his, then he straightened and spun her around quickly, as if she wasn’t already dizzy enough. ‘Satie was very eccentric. He only ate white food, and he had
a whole wardrobe of identical suits so he didn’t waste time choosing what to wear.’
She smiled. ‘You know so much!’
His eyes locked on hers. ‘When you have an interest, you tend to absorb details...’
‘Mmm...’ She was thinking about the beach, details like the curve of his shoulder as he’d dried himself, the defined abs, the trail of dark hair leading... He chose that moment to pull her closer, pelvis to pelvis. She swallowed a little gasp and closed her eyes. Thighs, hips, torso—moving against her—steady heat flowing from his body into hers. She could feel desire guiding his every move and it was what she’d been waiting for—wasn’t it?
His hair skimmed her cheek as his lips touched her neck. She melted into his warmth, the sensation of his mouth on her skin. She couldn’t fight this—she didn’t want to fight it. She tangled her fingers into his hair, tipped her head back as his lips grazed the skin at the base of her throat, and it was like falling...letting go... but could she really let go without knowing what was going on in his head?
‘Zach, please stop...’
He pulled away, eyes burning into hers. ‘Stop?’
Her ribs felt tight. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she’d fallen in love with him, but ever since that moment her lines had blurred. She wanted this...wanted him, but she needed a moment to think... If he was coming out of the shallows it had to mean something... Something real. And if he was ready then she was too, but she had to know what he was feeling. Her words tumbled out in short breaths. ‘If this isn’t...if you can’t...then please stop because I need more of you...’
He took her face in his hands. ‘I can give you more...’ Then he kissed her softly, deeply, and she was unravelling, losing herself in the perfect taste of his kiss, and when she thought she was about to die in his arms he pulled away breathlessly. ‘Let’s go home!’
* * *
She watched shadows weaving and dancing on the walls, felt his fingers tracing a slow, meandering journey along her inner arm, a sequence of little presses against her skin. She felt a glow of recognition. ‘What are you playing?’
His lips touched her shoulder. ‘Pavane. You liked it, remember...?’
She rolled over to face him. His gaze was soft in the candlelight, hazy from their lovemaking. ‘I don’t know which one I like best... I love Pavane, but now there’s the dirty dancing one...’
‘The dirty dancing one!’ He laughed. ‘I’ll never play Gymnopédies again without remembering...’
His gaze held a trace of heat, something else too which reached right into her heart and nestled there. She touched his shoulder, ran her fingers over the smooth arc of muscle. In this moment she felt so close to him, felt as if everything had opened up between them. The way he’d told her about Isabella, how they’d started out together...all that history...but there was something left, something she needed to know.
‘Zach, what happened—to Isabella?’
She saw the light drain from his eyes, heard the little catch in his breath and then he was rolling onto his back. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment and she wondered if she’d pushed too hard, but then he started to speak.
‘It was a brain haemorrhage—very sudden.’
She reached for his hand, felt him folding it into his. He closed his eyes, as if it was the only way he could see into the past.
‘We’d gone for dinner at friends’... It was a lovely evening so the plan was to eat outside. I was on the terrace with the guys, having a beer, and Izzy was inside, catching up with the girls. She was bringing a bowl of salad out and she must have caught the heel of her shoe somehow... I heard a crack, then a smash and when I looked up Izzy was on the ground... I ran over. For a moment she looked dazed, then she laughed, called herself a klutz. I helped her up. I was worried because she’d hit her head but she said she was fine, that it was just a bump. She was more worried about the broken salad bowl. She was picking up the pieces, apologising. I took her aside, asked her if she really was okay and she told me to stop worrying...’
He fell silent for a moment. Olivia felt his fingers tightening around hers.
‘An hour later when we were eating, I felt her touch my hand suddenly, like she was trying to grab it, and then she collapsed, fell against me. I went crazy. I was holding her, calling her name, trying to wake her up, yelling for someone to get an ambulance, and it seemed to take for ever to come... They tried so hard to bring her back, but she didn’t wake up again.’
Olivia tried to imagine it. One moment sitting there at the table, the next moment everything sliding away into darkness. Zach, floating in a vacuum of disbelief, the shock repeating like a mirror reflecting itself—on and on and on. She couldn’t find the words so she squeezed his hand softly. ‘Thank you for telling me.’
He turned to face her, traced the line of her jaw with his fingers. ‘I’ve lived it a thousand times and every time it’s the same. No warning. No time for saying...’
‘Goodbye?’
He hesitated for a moment then nodded and as he looked at her she could see a glow there, kindling his eyes back to life.
‘What do you say to Alessia...?’
He drew a wretched kind of sigh then seemed to steady himself. ‘I put a photo of Izzy on her bedside table... I tell her that Mamma’s with the angels, that she watches over her all the time, that she loves her...’ He swallowed, shook his head a little. ‘What can you say...? Alessia doesn’t remember and maybe it’s easier that way.’ Lines appeared on his forehead. ‘She sees the world with a child’s eyes; she isn’t burdened with sadness. If you have to lose a parent maybe it’s easier if you never got to know them.’
He sat up suddenly, ran a hand through his hair. ‘The only way I could think of to make Alessia feel Izzy’s presence was to make this place everything Izzy had wanted it to be. Every piece of furniture, every paint colour...everything has Izzy’s stamp on it. When Alessia’s older maybe she’ll feel her mother here somehow...’ He picked up his watch from the bedside table and slipped it on, then swung out of bed, reaching for his trousers.
She sat up, holding the sheet against her body. ‘You’re not staying...?’
He turned around to face her. ‘I’m sorry. Believe me, I want to—but I can’t.’ He was pulling on his shirt now, buttoning it up. ‘Lucia’s babysitting. I’m already later than I said I’d be.’
It was perfectly reasonable, so why did she feel a spike of desolation?
He pushed his feet into his shoes then came to sit beside her. He wrapped his arms around her, cool clothes against her warm skin. He kissed her softly. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, okay.’
‘Yes, of course...’ She smiled. ‘Sleep well, Zach.’
His eyes flickered with something she couldn’t read, then he left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.
She fell backwards and stared at the ceiling. He was in the east wing and she was in the west wing. Between them lay the house: everything with Isabella’s stamp on it.
* * *
She took her coffee with her, walked barefoot through the dewy grass until she came to her favourite bench. There was a cool stillness in the garden, a peachy glow of dawn on the horizon. The day still felt like a figment of someone’s imagination, like an idea not fully formed, and she wanted it to wash over her, clear her mind, suggest a direction.
The way he’d been last night...that slow dance, the way he’d held her against him, his hand at her back, fingers slowly circling... Just thinking about it, and what happened afterwards...the delicious heat of his skin against hers, slow, deep kisses, the ache of longing, the blissful ache of release... The sweet intimacy of it had stolen her breath away, otherwise she might have whispered her secret, told him that she was in love with him. She’d seen the light in his eyes too and she’d dared to hope... But then he’d left, and she’d had the whole night to think.
Sh
e sipped her coffee, stared at the old house glowing golden in the sunrise. It was his Taj Mahal, his monument to Isabella and a legacy for Alessia. It was unreasonable, illogical of her to feel threatened by it, but she couldn’t switch off the feeling that this place would always stand between her and Zach. She felt the old demons awakening inside her—that yearning for total commitment, that yearning to be at the centre of someone’s universe, not just a satellite passing through. And even though she could trace its origins to the thoughtless taunting she’d endured at school, and even though she’d learned that she had room in her heart for a widower with a daughter, somehow, the house and everything it stood for felt like too much. She’d never expect him to give it up—that would be selfish—but she needed something for herself. Some proof that she mattered as much—more. The problem was, she didn’t know what that proof could be or how to find it.
The sun was climbing slowly, throwing shadows across the formal garden below. She got to her feet, wandered through the secret garden rooms she loved. Pale statues, enigmatic smiles. She ran her fingers over the smooth cold arm of a cherub and fought back a wave of sadness. Her time here was running out. Two more weddings to shoot and then Michele would be well enough to come back. So many things crowding into her head at once. What would happen in two weeks? What did she want to happen? Her feelings for Zach were undeniable, but this thing they’d started...was it all just a massive mistake? Was he going to shake her hand at the airport and say goodbye?
‘You’re up early!’
Startled, she looked up to see Lucia strolling towards her through the stone archway of the ancient folly. She was wearing a light summer dress and sandals, a cardigan draped over her shoulders.
Olivia tightened the belt of her robe, felt its wet hemline catching her ankles. ‘I woke up early. Couldn’t go back to sleep.’ She smiled. ‘I thought I might as well come outside.’