She waited for him to explain why he was here but instead he ran a hand tiredly against his neck, tilting his head. His jaw line was heavy with evening shadow, the lines at the corners of his eyes more pronounced than usual. He looked tired.
She gave a little gasp, raw panic coursing through her. ‘Isabella—is everything okay?’
‘She’s fine.’
His voice held a tender certainty but Carly needed to know more. ‘Who’s minding her?’
‘Giulio and Valentina.’
Carly paused, trying to make sense of his answer. ‘Isabella is in Lake Como? Why are you here, then? Why aren’t you with her?’
‘Giulio and Valentina are here in London. They’re staying with us.’
Thrown, Carly cleared her throat. ‘Isabella must be delighted to have them stay.’
‘As much as Giulio and Valentina are about spending time with her. They’re spoiling her.’
Her head spun with how good it felt to hear the affection in his voice. She gritted her teeth. ‘I hope they’re keeping to her sleeping plan.’
‘I’m insisting upon it.’
‘Did you find a new nanny?’
‘No. We’ve agreed that between the three of us we’ll take care of Isabella for a while. Giulio and Valentina are staying in London for a few months. They’re renting an apartment close to us and we’ll all go to Lake Como for the month of August.’
Thrown by this news, missing Isabella even more than ever now that they were talking about her, Carly asked, ‘How is she?’
‘She’s still waking at night, but usually only once. Bedtimes are easier, and she’s still addicted to reading Sleepy Heads in Sleep World.’
Faced with his tender voice, her anger was slipping away from her. She needed to get away. She moved onto the steps. ‘It’s late.’
‘She misses you.’
She somehow managed not to trip on the steps at his words and made it as far as the door before she turned and admitted, ‘And I miss her.’
He moved onto the first step. ‘Come and see us.’
Carly winced. Did he have no understanding of just how impossible all of this was for her? Her anger surged back and, walking towards him, she demanded, ‘Why haven’t you called? It’s been two weeks. I’d have liked to have known sooner how she was.’
‘I needed some space to think.’
‘About what?’
He hesitated for a moment before answering, ‘About us.’ He shrugged and added, ‘You could have called us, you know.’
There was disappointment, hurt in his voice that made her feel as if she had failed him somehow. ‘I was going to call next week.’
He nodded at that but she could tell that he didn’t believe her. ‘There are things I need to say to you.’
Carly fumbled with her handbag, trying to locate her keys, knowing that talking would resolve nothing. ‘Is there any point?’
‘I’ve been sitting here for the past three hours so I sure hope there is.’
The hope, the solemnity etched in Max’s face had her open the door and silently wait for him to follow her into the hallway, her heart pounding at the pride in his gaze as he passed her by.
* * *
Carly’s apartment was on the second floor of a redbrick Georgian town house. The interior had been renovated in recent years but still retained the original ornate cornicing and fireplace in the living room. The walls were painted a soft green, an eastern-inspired rug on the varnished floorboards. The walls either side of the fireplace were covered in an array of paintings in various sizes and subjects.
He inspected them as Carly threw her handbag onto the grey linen sofa opposite the fireplace and removed her jacket.
‘A family collection?’ he asked, nodding to the pictures.
‘No, just an addiction to car-boot sales and flea markets.’
Max smiled but inside his stomach was twisted into a hundred different nasty knots. He had been nervous outside on the street, but standing here, seeing Carly’s home for the first time, his doubts were off the scale. She had a whole life without him—a job she thrived in, a beautiful home, a busy social life. What if she said no again? Was he doing the right thing? The right thing by Isabella? What if Carly said yes but six months, a year, two years down the line wanted out? Isabella would be three, four by then. How would she cope? How would he cope losing someone else he loved?
He loved Carly.
That thought galvanised him.
Carly had moved into her adjoining kitchen, filling the kettle, taking cups and glasses out of cupboards with a frenetic energy.
He held out his hand to her.
She stared at it as though it were a dangerous animal.
‘Let’s go and talk.’
For a moment it looked as if she was going to refuse, preferring to stay in the kitchen for the night boiling endless kettles of water instead of hearing what he wanted to say. But then with an impatient toss of her head she stalked back into the living room, where she sat on a primrose-yellow corded art deco chair and pointed him towards the sofa.
He sat as close as he could to her. Carly in response swung her knees away, while pushing herself into the furthest reaches of her chair.
Dio! He hadn’t realised just how hard this was going to be. He rolled his shoulders, tried to release the tight tension in his throat that was making speech near impossible. His stomach was a bag of angry cats.
‘When Marta died...’ He paused as his voice cracked.
Carly inhaled deeply, her expression haunted. ‘Max, please...’
‘I want you to know everything about me. When Marta died I shut down. We had argued the night she died over Isabella not sleeping. She died when we were still angry with one another. I couldn’t bear the guilt or the pain so I shut myself down to life, to the people around me. Even to my own daughter. And I was scared for Isabella, I wanted to protect her from life’s unpredictability and cruelty by making her independent. But I was wrong. Being with you, all the lessons you have taught me in caring for Isabella—being open, being tender with her, the importance of reaching out to others—has taught me that isolating ourselves is not the answer. My mother wanted me to be fiercely independent but she was wrong.’
He took a deep breath to fight the lifelong certainty that to love others was to make you weak and vulnerable, a belief that he had tossed away when he met Marta only to later feel the full force of the devastation of losing her. Finally, he admitted, ‘My mother was distraught when my father left us—she blamed her family for causing him to leave because they never liked him. She refused to ever speak to them again and closed us both off to the world. It was her way of coping with the pain of him leaving. I don’t want to make her mistakes, to shut myself away from people who care. I want people in my life. I want you in my life.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I love you, Carly.’
* * *
Carly shot out of her seat. He was not going to do this to her. To tell her he loved her. To tell her lies just as Robert had.
She stood with her back to the fireplace and faced him down. ‘You want a mother for Isabella.’
His expression shifted from dumbstruck to incredulous. He stood. ‘Che cavolo! Rubbish! Is that what you really think?’
He paced the room, his big body too large for her tiny living room, raking a hand through his hair. He yanked off the sports jacket he was wearing over faded jeans and flung it onto the back of the sofa. ‘I... I...’ He threw his hands up in disbelief. ‘You don’t trust me at all, do you?’
Carly shrugged, taken aback by the sadness in his voice, the disappointment in his eyes.
‘Can’t you see the risk I’m taking inviting you into our lives? Isabella has already lost her mother... I’ve lost someone I loved.’ His voice cracked; he looked away in pain, in exasperation. ‘Dio, Carly, it would be so much easier n
ot to love you, not to run the risk of you leaving us some day. Isabella says your name all the time. Last week she mistook a woman on the street for you. She tried to climb out of her stroller to get to you. She loves you, but I am not looking for a mother for her, that’s not why I want you in our lives.’
‘Is it because you’re lonely?’
Her question was received with a disbelieving bark of laughter. ‘Seriously? I’ve fallen in love with you because I’m lonely? I’m in love with you because you’re intelligent, empathetic, beautiful. You bring out the best in me, you lighten my life. Mi fai sognare...you make me dream. I love you because we want the same things in life...we can have a good life together.’
She was unable to make sense of everything he was saying; memories of Robert’s false promises had her saying tersely, ‘Your lifestyle, your money isn’t important to me.’
‘That’s not what I meant. I want to create a family with you. You, me and Isabella. Hopefully in the future there will be more bambini for us to love. You’re the person I want by my side through life.’
Carly closed her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the tear that slid down her cheek. She liked to think she was stoic by nature, a long way from being a drama queen, so she winced when she dropped to her knees, knowing just how over the top it was, but what she had to say literally chopped her off at her knees. She flinched, trying to find the right words, her insides one mass of tumbling emotion. She was aware of Max sitting back onto the sofa, his arms resting on his legs as he leant down to watch her. She stared at the tiny circular holes punched into the soft brown leather of his shoes.
His head inched down, trying to catch her gaze. ‘Carly?’
She raised her head to be embraced by a look as tender as his quietly spoken question.
‘What about Marta?’
His expression fell. ‘What about her?’
‘Are we doing the right thing by her?’ Carly paused, her heart breaking in two. ‘I don’t want to dishonour her, Max. It’s all so sad that she died so young. It feels so wrong to take her place.’
Max joined her on the floor. His eyes were awash with tears. ‘This is why I love you, Carly. You are so incredibly kind and sensitive. You constantly think of others. Marta would have really liked you.’
Carly rubbed her hand over her eyes. They felt so tired and strained from holding back the tsunami of unshed tears clogging her head.
Max reached and gently wiped at the tears that had managed to break free. She hiccupped a little cry at his touch, the warmth of his fingertips like a warm blanket wrapping around her.
‘I blamed myself for Marta’s death but talking to you helped me see that I couldn’t hold onto that guilt—it was serving no purpose other than to drive away those around me. That wasn’t a way to honour Marta. It doesn’t reflect the generous and outgoing person she was who embraced family and friends and would want me to do the same for Isabella. I’ve spoken to Giulio and Valentina about the night Marta died, how we had argued earlier that night. I needed them to know everything before I invited them to London.’
‘How did they react?’
‘Not well initially. They ended the call soon after. I didn’t hear from them for two days. But then Giulio called me. He said that all couples argue, especially when trying to cope with a newborn, that it’s not the fairy tale of contentment the advertisers and movies would have us believe. He said that I had been a good husband to Marta, that he was proud to call me his son-in-law.’ He stopped and once again brushed his thumb lightly against her cheek. His eyes shone brightly with tenderness, with gentle understanding, with love. ‘They know that I’m here tonight.’
‘They do?’
He smiled at her hiccupped question. ‘I told them that I love you. They like you, Carly. They think you’re good for me and Isabella.’
Startled, Carly sat back on her haunches. What must it have taken Max to tell his in-laws that he loved her. She stared into his eyes, a wonderful, glorious dawning slowly taking hold. He did love her. He really meant it.
‘I loved Marta, but I love you now with all my heart. Marta will always be part of who I am, Isabella will be her legacy, but now I want to give you my heart...if you want it.’
A bubble of laughter erupted from Carly’s throat. ‘Of course I want your heart. That day when you arrived at my office, outside, you were upset. Something drew me to you. I wanted to know you better, to try to help. And then when we met, I just put what we had down to physical attraction. But it was deeper than that. It was an emotional connection that’s hard to put into words.’ Looking down, she frowned as she tried to find the right words, wanting him to know what was in her heart. ‘It’s like an incredible thrill yet a comfort, an ease in meeting the right person; but everything around us was so complicated. I thought I’d end up being hurt again so I tried resisting you so hard. It still feels unreal, and in truth it still scares me. Can we slow things down like you suggested in Italy?’
His hand ran against her arm, sending a thrilling warmth through her. ‘Let’s date for a while. I like the thought of walking you home at night, kissing you goodnight on the steps outside.’
She giggled at the mischief in his eyes. ‘Will you come surfing with me?’
‘Only if you promise to come and visit some of the buildings I’ve designed.’
Her smile widened. ‘I’d love to see them. And I want to introduce you to all my friends.’
He pulled back a fraction from her, his expression sobering. ‘Are you willing to become part of the Ghiraldini family?’
Carly edged away from him, the reality of entering into a relationship with Max starting to dawn on her. ‘Does that mean you want to move back to Lake Como?’
His hand reached for hers. ‘I’ll go wherever you want to live.’
Did he really mean that? Did he see her needs as being equal to his? Was he willing to adapt to her way of life? ‘So you’ll stay here in London?’
He shrugged. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘And if I want to move to the Kent coast?’
He smiled. ‘Then we’ll go there and I’ll design you the house of your dreams.’
Carly folded her arms, suddenly wanting to test him. ‘I won’t put up with you working crazy hours.’
His eyes glinted with self-satisfaction. ‘Not a problem. I’ve been home by seven every night since we returned from Como.’
‘And travel?’
‘I’ve curtailed my business travel for now. But I do want to travel with you. I want to explore the world, live life to the full with you and Isabella at my side. And other children if they come along.’
Carly laughed at the excitement in his voice. ‘But we’re only dating for now.’
‘You can’t blame a guy for dreaming.’
Carly’s heart flipped over and over again at the hope and love glittering in his green eyes. He loved her. She inhaled, trying to make sense of it all, needing him to understand the fears deep inside her, how much it hurt to be away from him. ‘I’ve been miserable for the past two weeks. And as the days went by, I got more and more furious when you didn’t call. But my anger really wasn’t about you not calling, it was because I was so scared I’d never see you again. I pushed you away in Como because I couldn’t face being second best in your life.’
His expression grew incredulous. ‘Never! You will never be that. You’ll always be the centre of my life.’
Carly smiled at his certainty, at the love, at the astonishing joy and security swelling inside her. ‘In telling the Ghiraldinis, by everything you have said tonight, I know that I can trust you.’ She paused as tears welled in her eyes again. ‘I’ve missed you.’ Her voice cracked but she continued on. ‘I can be myself with you. You’re supportive, you listen to me. You’re never dismissive. You get me.’ She paused and softly whispered, her heart aching with love, ‘Ti amo.’
/> ‘Veramente?’
‘Sì!’
‘Quanto?’
‘Mucho.’
He threw his head back at that, his deep laughter reverberating around the room. ‘That’s Spanish. I think you mean molto...at least, I hope you are trying to say that you love me a lot.’
Carly’s answer to that was to lean into him, her eyes swallowing up the happiness in his, her mouth landing on his smiling lips. He gave a moan and deepened their kiss. It was a kiss full of love and tenderness and laughter and wonder.
It was a kiss that ended with them both lying on the living-room floor, wrapped in each other’s arms, smiling into each other’s eyes in happiness.
‘Knock! Knock!’
Max shook his head ruefully. ‘Who’s there?’
‘Olive,’ Carly replied, laughter bubbling in her throat.
‘Olive who?’
‘Olive you and I don’t care who knows it!’
Max groaned but within seconds his mouth was on hers again. And they kissed and chatted late into the night, fighting the urge to move into Carly’s bedroom, preferring instead to wait, to spend time opening their hearts ever more to one another.
EPILOGUE
THE FOLLOWING YEAR, on a hot August day, Carly walked through the rose gardens of Villa Fiori, the heavy floral scent and view of Lake Como bright and dazzling in the fierce heat, making her head spin with even more disbelieving happiness.
Her smile grew even wider and with a laugh she picked up the long skirt of her bridal gown and began to run towards the villa’s private chapel. Which wasn’t easy to do in four-inch heels and thirty-degree heat.
Waiting at the door of the chapel, dressed in a tuxedo, his wide smile glorious, Max lifted Isabella up and pointed towards Carly.
‘Car-lee! Car-lee!’ Isabella shouted, waving her bouquet of roses she had personally selected from the rose garden before breakfast this morning, aided by a local florist.
Inside the chapel, heads turned at Isabella’s call. The chapel could seat thirty. The perfect number for their wedding. The Ghiraldinis and Vittoria and her family, along with some other of Max’s friends from London sat on the right-hand side of the aisle. On the left-hand side were Carly’s friends and family. Her dad had even travelled from New Zealand for the occasion. Carly had been torn about whether to ask him to walk her down the aisle, but in the end had decided she wanted Max, Isabella and herself to walk together, to signify that they were about to become a family.
Resisting the Italian Single Dad Page 17