Resisting the Italian Single Dad

by Katrina Cudmore

  At the airport, she had been about to sit in the rear seat next to Isabella but Max had asked her to sit in the front seat instead. He had asked her in the same detached tone he had been using all day since their conversation in Isabella’s bedroom. If you could call it a conversation. It had been more like a dance between two different viewpoints of reality—hers that their relationship had to end, Max’s that they could just amble on, see where life would take them. Didn’t he anticipate at all the hurt, the pain that would come as a result of his laissez-faire approach?

  He was shielding Isabella from her. On the plane back to London, he had taken Isabella into the bedroom, saying he would try to get her to nap. But Carly had heard their voices and laughter. She had felt physically sick with the feeling of being excluded, an outsider once again. She had spent the journey alone, trying to focus on the sleeping plan for Isabella she had typed on her laptop and printed out using the plane’s on-board printer.

  Max had taken it from her when he and Isabella had come out for the landing, silently nodding when she had talked him through the key aspects of the plan. He’d been courteous, attentive but completely detached from her.

  She squeezed the soft leather of the car seat, cursing the early afternoon traffic they were now snarled up in. She wanted to get home to her apartment. Sitting here, having Max sitting behind her, hearing him and Isabella quietly chat to one another, was torture. She needed air, space to think. She needed to cry. Which annoyed her beyond belief. She had got herself into this mess. Once again, she had got a relationship all wrong—falling for Max was nothing but a rerun of her relationship with Robert.

  She should have seen the signs with Robert, how he would never speak about his ex, but when her name was mentioned Carly saw the memories, the wistfulness in his eyes that took him away from her. It had been strange, an odd sensation, to be next to someone and know that in those moments, emotionally, they were with someone else.

  Max was still in love with Marta. Why then did he want to see her again, even talk about things possibly becoming more permanent?

  There were only two obvious conclusions. Because they were so good together in bed, or he was looking for a mother substitute for Isabella.

  The car edged its way through the traffic lights close to Baker Street underground station.

  When the car eventually pulled up outside her apartment block, Max told Thomas to remain in the car as he would see to Carly’s luggage himself.

  Carly ignored Max’s look of displeasure when she stopped by Isabella’s door and, opening it, leant in and gave her a cuddle. She wanted to say that she’d see her soon, she wanted to say that she loved her but instead she dragged in some air, inhaling her baby sweetness and playfully tickling Isabella on the belly, smiled brightly and said, ‘Make sure to put Sunny to sleep early tonight. He’ll be tired after his long trip on the aeroplane today.’

  Isabella hugged Sunny closer to her. Nodded seriously. But as Carly pulled away her bottom lip dropped.

  Emotion strangling her throat, Carly walked around the car to join Max at the top of the steps to her apartment.

  She searched her bags for her keys, trying not to show how her hands were trembling. ‘Call Nina during the week to arrange a follow-up appointment. If you have any questions in the meantime, feel free to call me.’

  Max nodded, his jaw tight.

  Carly wanted him to just go. To not prolong this goodbye. She found her keys and, lifting them up, attempted a smile. ‘Found them. I can see myself in from here.’

  ‘I’ll carry your luggage in for you.’

  No! The thought of Max coming into her apartment was too much. That was to be her sanctuary. She didn’t want to have memories of him standing inside there saying goodbye every time she left or came home. She shook her head, ‘I can take care of the luggage. You go. Isabella needs you.’

  ‘How can I make this right?’

  Her heart dropped, fresh tears flooding her eyes at his softly spoken question. She inhaled a shaky breath to see the confusion clouding his eyes. ‘That first day outside my office, you stopped and looked like you were saying something...to someone.’

  Wincing, Max dropped his head and then softly said, ‘Marta.’

  Max went to say something else but a cry from Isabella rang through the air. ‘Car...ee. Car...ee.’

  Carly stared towards the rear door that Max had left open when he had climbed out of the car. Isabella was calling her name. She wanted to run to her. Pick her up and hold her for ever. Emotion clumped in her throat.

  She grabbed hold of her suitcase even though she was not sure her legs would carry her anywhere, took a weak step backwards. ‘Go. Isabella needs you.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘WHO ARE YOU?’

  Carly crouched down at the doorstep of the small terraced house to the little boy whose gaze was as curious as his question. ‘I’m Carly and you must be Jacob.’

  Jacob’s amber eyes narrowed. ‘Are you here to see my sister?’ He shook his head before Carly could answer and said in an unimpressed tone, ‘She’s asleep. We have to be very quiet.’ He paused to stare unhappily up at his mother, who had answered the door with him, and then in a poor attempt at a whisper added, ‘Mummy says so.’

  Carly swallowed down a smile at Jacob’s disgruntled tone. ‘I’m here to chat with your mum but I promise to be quiet. I’d like to chat with you too.’

  Jacob’s eyes brightened. ‘Will you come and play with me?’

  Carly clapped her hands softly and said, ‘I’d love to.’ Standing up, she said her hellos to Jacob’s mum, Marsha, who had called her earlier in the week. Jacob, who was three, had in recent weeks being waking during the nights complaining of a monster in his bedroom wardrobe. Carly guessed that the arrival of his baby sister, Naomi, might have something to do with his waking.

  An hour later, Carly stood on the doorstep saying her goodbyes. After playing with Jacob, which had involved her dressing up as a fire chief and pretending to drive the fire truck while wedged into his climbing frame in the garden, Carly had talked through a plan of action with Marsha, which included her spending some one-to-one time with Jacob, and for her to encourage visitors to spend time with him as well, thereby showing that he was just as important as ever in the household and not being displaced by his baby sister.

  Crouching down, she high-fived Jacob. ‘See you later, alligator.’

  Jacob giggled and rushed in for a quick hug, almost sending Carly toppling backwards.

  Carly and Marsha shared a smile and when Carly stood, Marsha, who was holding Naomi in her arms, let out a sigh. ‘It was good to talk things through.’ She paused and rolled her eyes. ‘I was starting to stress myself out, which of course wasn’t helping the situation, but now I feel more in control.’

  Carly gave Marsha a quick hug and was about to leave when Jacob called up to her, ‘You can cuddle Naomi too.’

  Carly smiled down at Jacob. ‘That’s okay. I got so many cuddles from you today I think I’m full.’

  Jacob giggled at how Carly patted her tummy but then shook his head seriously. ‘No. You must...she’s nice.’

  Marsha’s eyes shone with light tears. Taking Naomi into her arms, Carly crouched back down next to Jacob. ‘When she’s older, Naomi will be able to play with you.’

  ‘Will she like my sandpit? I’ve a blue bucket she can use.’

  ‘I bet she’ll love your sandpit.’

  ‘She can’t have my special spade though.’ Jacob leaned into her and whispered, ‘That spade is magic—a pirate gave it to my daddy.’

  ‘Wow!’

  Jacob gave a nod, satisfied at Carly’s amazement.

  Standing, Carly gazed for a moment down at Naomi, her heart splitting open at her perfection.

  Much too reluctantly she handed her back to Marsha and said, ‘I’ll call you next week to check
how things are with you all. Have a nice weekend.’

  As the door closed behind her Carly winced. It was Friday evening. The weekend stretched out in front of her. Friends had invited her out for drinks tonight but she had made up an excuse that she had paperwork to catch up on. Work she could handle right now, social conversation she couldn’t.

  She had waited all week to hear from Max. At the start of the week a knot of dread had sat in her stomach at the prospect of him calling or Nina telling her that he had made an appointment to see her. But as the week had dragged on the knot had disappeared to be replaced with a restlessness that willed him to call. She wanted to know how Isabella was doing. If she was sleeping okay. Had she learned new words? Was she still refusing to eat her yogurts? Was she still insistent on having Sleepy Heads in Sleep World read to her every night? Had she recovered from the light head cold she had developed in Lake Como?

  She missed Isabella with her heart.

  She missed Max with all her soul.

  She missed his physical presence, his touch, how his eyes followed her as she moved around a room. She missed the passion, the disbelief in his eyes when they made love. She missed his wry sense of humour, his intelligence, his kindness. She missed seeing him hold Isabella. She missed seeing him blossom in expressing his love for his daughter that he had supressed for so long, believing he was doing right by her in making her independent and strong.

  She missed the feeling of belonging, of family that had been there when they had breakfast together each morning, when they drove in the car. She missed his life-affirming kisses that infused her with hope and anticipation.

  She walked past Hampstead underground station, deciding to walk home instead. She guessed the walk would take over ninety minutes, but it was preferable to facing the quietness of her apartment. She might stop off for a coffee on the way. Or browse some bookstores.

  Her fingers itched with the urge to pull out her phone. To check if there were any missed calls. Maybe even call him.

  She walked even faster. Past pavement-side cafés with laughing couples, couples holding hands, couples chatting seriously. Past fathers holding hands with their toddlers. Past mothers pushing strollers. Forcing herself to become breathless.

  She was not going to rerun her relationship with Robert again.

  She was not going to become involved with a man whose heart belonged to another.

  Tomorrow she was meeting with her mum. Carly had called her earlier in the week. Seeing Max reach out to his in-laws, talking to him about her own relationships, she had realised that she wanted to try to connect with her mum again. Max was right. She wasn’t a cynic. She was an optimist who wanted to believe in new beginnings. Maybe she and her mum could forge a new relationship, based on who they were now rather than on the past. Maybe with time, she could even forge one with her stepfamily.

  There were some sights in life Max had never dreamt he would see. Giulio Ghiraldini sitting at the top of a red corkscrew slide, Isabella between his legs, was one of those sights.

  ‘Sbrigati, Giulio! There’s a queue forming behind you,’ Valentina, standing on the soft play tiles beneath the slide, called up to Giulio.

  Giulio raised both hands in a gesture that said Valentina should stop fussing, but then pushed off down the slide. Isabella’s eyes and mouth popping open in wonder, Valentina clapped her hands in delight, while Max videoed the entire event on his phone. Tomaso and Giovanni would no doubt tease their father about it in the months ahead when Max shared it on the new online sharing group he had created for the family earlier in the week.

  Giulio and Valentina had flown to London for the weekend. The day after he had returned from Tomaso’s wedding, he had called them, suggesting that he and Isabella would video call them a few times each week.

  The suggestion had been received with great enthusiasm and now he and Isabella called them before bath time most nights, Isabella insisting that she call her nonna e nonno, loving the funny faces her grandfather pulled unbeknownst to her nonna.

  Leaving the playground, they walked towards the park’s bamboo garden, Isabella tottering in the centre of the group, refusing to hold hands with anyone, determined to act all grown up. Carly had been right. By showering her with his attention and love, he had helped Isabella find a new confidence and desire to be independent. So many times over the past two weeks he had been tempted to call Carly to tell her of Isabella’s progress. To hear her voice. To know how she was. But what was the point? She had made it clear she didn’t want to see him again. Time and time again over the past couple of weeks he had asked himself why. Was she still in love with her ex?

  He smiled down at his daughter as she weaved an unsteady but determined path on the concrete pavement. Carly had opened his heart fully to Isabella, allowed him to realise that he shouldn’t fear loving her with all his being. His gaze shifted over to Giulio and Valentina. Carly had opened his heart to them too. She had shown him that it was not a weakness to ask for support. Isabella was blossoming in their company. And for him their support brought reassurance, a peace to know that there were others out there who cared for Isabella, who cared for him. Now, thanks to Carly, he could fully see that allowing others into his life gave it more colour and meaning.

  The other three carried on for a few steps before turning around. He waved them on, telling them he wanted to take a photograph of them walking with Isabella.

  He took out his phone and snapped them, his throat tight at the sight of Isabella’s yellow polka-dot dress blowing in the wind against her bare legs, her curls dancing with each step, Sunny tucked under her arm.

  He stopped dead on the footpath.

  Carly had thought him to be open, to be vulnerable. Not just with Isabella. But with his in-laws. She had given him the gift of tenderness, of being capable of stopping and understanding his own fears and need.

  He had feared being hurt again, of losing someone. He had feared opening himself up to another person, showing his fragility.

  But in all of that he had lost sight of Carly’s fears and needs.

  He cursed under his breath. Disbelieving just how thoughtless he had been. Carly feared trusting others. He had done nothing to prove to her that he would always be there for her, that he understood her. He had done nothing to make her feel secure, wanted, treasured. Instead he had reverted to his old ways of keeping others at a distance, of showing no vulnerability. He had tried to keep her in his life using logic when he should have spoken from his heart.

  He hadn’t told her he loved her.

  He loved her.

  Only now could he admit that to himself.

  But in truth he had known he loved her the day he’d thought she was drowning. He would have given his life to save her.

  But fear and the lifelong habit of distancing himself had stopped him admitting it to himself.

  He opened up the gallery of photos on his phone, to the pictures they had taken of the three of them on the terrace of his villa before Giulio’s sixtieth party.

  They all looked goofy but incredibly happy in the photo. Even Isabella, who so often frowned at the sight of a camera, had a grin on her face as she tugged on Carly’s neck.

  Dio! They were meant to be together. But had he left it too late? Messed up too much?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AS SHE TURNED the corner onto her street, Carly’s footsteps faltered. Somebody was sitting on the steps outside her apartment block. She glanced around her. The street was empty. Lights and the shadow of flickering TV screens shone from some of the nearby houses. Would they hear her if she screamed?

  The person on the steps stood. All six feet four of him.

  Carly’s heart missed a beat and then it raged in her chest.

  Her footsteps clipped on the pavement. Within a few seconds she was standing in front of him.

  ‘Max.’ She tightened the belt of he
r jacket before clasping the strap of her handbag, eying him with hot anger.

  ‘How are you?’

  No! He was not doing this to her. Using those weapons of his soft green gaze and gentle tone on her. She was impervious to all of that now. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He blinked at her question before dropping down to join her on the pavement. Now that he was closer, out of the shadow of the steps and under a nearby street light, she could see the strain in his expression.

  Her heart splintered.

  Walk to him, Carly. Lay your head against his chest. Inhale his scent, his warmth that melts into your bones, wrap yourself in his strength.

  Another, wiser voice popped into her head.

  Don’t you dare. You’re enough of a mess as it is. Do you really want to make it worse?

  ‘Can we go up to your apartment and talk?’

  Carly shook her head.

  ‘You were out?’

  For a moment she toyed with the idea of pretending she’d been out on a date. She wanted to hurt him, just as she was hurting. Not a particularly noble sentiment, but there was nothing noble about her mood right now. ‘Why are you here, Max? You scared me sitting there.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Carly eyed him. Was he sorry for frightening her or was it a more general apology?

  ‘How long have you been sitting here?’ she asked.

  He looked at his watch. ‘About three hours.’

  ‘Three hours! Are you crazy?’

  ‘We need to talk and I knew you’d have to come out or go in eventually.’

  ‘And if I didn’t?’

  ‘I’d have stayed here until you did.’ And he would have—Carly could see it in the calm resolve of his gaze.