“When I was growing up, we didn’t celebrate Christmas with a tree nor gifts. We couldn’t afford to. So naturally, Gianfelice wanted to spoil me. He wanted everything to be perfect, and this star was the most perfect thing I’d ever seen. He gave it to me on Christmas eve, the first year we were married. I didn’t even know he’d bought it.” She shook her head affectionately. “He was good at surprises, eh?”
Nico smiled, because it was true. He handled the star with reverence.
“Life without him is unbearable, Nico.” Yaya’s voice was raw and Nico wondered why he hadn’t realised the truth earlier. He’d thought Yaya had muted herself for Gianfelice but the truth was, during their marriage, she’d simply surrendered to blissful happiness. She’d simply loved him with all that she was. “I wasn’t prepared for this. He was so alive, so strong, I never thought…”
“None of us did.” The words were thick, heavy with the weight of his heart.
“But even feeling this pain,” she put her hand in the crook of his arm, and took a step towards the door, her intent to install the star obvious. “Even now, lonely as I am, and feeling like more than half of me is missing, I wouldn’t do a thing differently.” Nico’s heart twisted. His gut tightened. “There is no life without love, and no love that comes without loss, eventually.” She lifted her shoulders. “It’s the cost of living well.”
Nico nodded, but he wasn’t sure he could speak. Hadn’t Maddie said words to that effect, the last morning in Italy? She’d insisted he was choosing not to love, that he was living a half-life without being open to even the idea of love. And then she’d left and he’d felt as though a part of him had died.
At first, he’d clung to anger. Why hadn’t she stayed? What was the big deal? One more week together might have solved everything. Maybe she would have got over her infatuation. Maybe he would have as well.
But that was a fool’s hope. Maddie was inside of him. Without his knowledge, she’d breathed her way into his soul and not seeing her, not speaking to her, was now an obscure form of daily torture.
Something was moving through him. Something heavy and accusatory. Something that almost made him stop walking and groan. And then, finally, there was a feeling he couldn’t fight that perhaps he’d made the worst mistake of his life – one he had no idea if he could ever fix.
Chapter 14
“THREE SERVINGS OF PORK?” Maddie smiled at her dad, and for once, it felt completely unforced. She’d had a glass of cider and half a bottle of prosecco over lunch, so it was no wonder. She’d temporarily anaesthetised herself to the pain of anything. It had been at least eleven minutes since she’d even thought of Nico, and that was something.
“It’s so good,” across the table, Graeme shrugged his shoulders so his suspenders lifted a little and that same feeling of affection and nostalgia bunched inside her. He always wore the red suspenders at Christmas time. “Have some.” He pushed his plate towards her but she laughed, clutching her stomach.
“One serve was more than enough.”
“No wonder you’re wasting away.”
“I am not.” She reached for her prosecco. It was empty. “When’s mum home?”
“End of January, I believe. Though you –,”
“Never know,” Maddie finished for him, remembering how often that phrase was said in her childhood.
Graeme offered what could have been a smile or a grimace. “Come up for the weekend?”
“Next weekend?”
“Well, I meant when your mother’s back, but you could come up next weekend too.” He put his fork down, leaning back in his chair, his eyes appraising Maddie. “How’s Michael?”
She was very still, but inside, her heart had begun to tremble, her blood heavy inside of her. And there was too much of it, so somehow she was drowning in her own arterial tides.
“I…we broke up.” She didn’t look at her dad. A waiter appeared and topped up her prosecco. She smiled at him far too brightly – the poor man had no idea how badly she needed the lifeline in that moment.
“I see.”
“It was a while ago,” she offered. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”
Maddie chanced a look at her father, saw him nod and rub his chin.
“I suppose that could explain it.”
“Explain what?”
“This.” He waved a finger at her, his look concerned.
“What’s ‘this’?” she repeated his gesture, pointing at herself.
“You’re demeanour. You haven’t been yourself, lovie.”
“Haven’t I?” Damn it. And she’d thought she was doing such a good job of pretending.
“No.” He sighed, reaching for his own glass and taking a sip. “What happened?”
Her heart thumped. Memories of the last time she’d seen Michael slammed into her and they were all the more painful because Nico was right there too. She stifled a groan, looked down at her plate. “It just didn’t work out.”
Silence descended upon their table, but noise and merriment swirled around them. People were dancing, singing, talking loudly. It wasn’t really the place to go into the details of what had transpired between Michael and her. And while she wished she didn’t feel it, Maddie still felt some kind of embarrassment. Like she didn’t want to confess the truth to her dad in case he blamed her in some way. Academically she knew it was stupid, but the grief counsellor she’d seen when she’d first come back from Italy had said that wasn’t an uncommon response.
“And you miss him?”
Maddie jerked her gaze to her father, shaking her head. “God, no. Why would you say that?”
“Because you look as though you barely want to put one foot in the other. You look crestfallen, darling. Absolutely heartbroken. And as much as I thought Michael wasn’t worth the dirt on your shoe, if you miss him that much, maybe you should call him?”
Maddie’s stomach dropped to her feet. She shook her head hurriedly, looking out the window to her right. Her father requested this table – a nook in the bay window – every year and given his friendship with the publican, they were given it, always. “No.” And then, because he was right – she was heartbroken and crestfallen and falling apart in lots of ways, but not because of Michael – she lifted her shoulders. “It’s over.” And it was. She’d heard nothing from Nico, nor did she expect to. “It would never work between us.”
A long pause and then, “Are you sure?”
She reached across the table, putting her hand over his. “Dad? I don’t want to talk about it.” She tried to soften it with a tight smile. “Do you mind?”
“Well, it’s Christmas,” he said, his misgivings obvious. “I can hardly force you. But come back next week. I want to make sure you’re doing okay.” Then, with a more relaxed smile, “We’ll come here for lunch.” And he winked so her own smile was more natural. “Have the roast. And some cider.” He leaned closer. “Maybe even a little pie and ice cream.”
“Okay.” After all, it wasn’t like her social life was lighting the world on fire, and her book had stalled in the last month or so. Everything had stalled.
She needed to find a way to kick start her life and she would. One day things would start to feel normal again, surely?
Only in England would there be three pubs called The Wandering Goose, all located in the quaint collection of villages that made up the Cotswolds. Nico wished he’d asked more questions – but why would he have? So all he had to go on was the fact she often spent Christmas with her father in a little Cotswold village and they had lunch at the pub – The Wandering Goose – if her mother wasn’t home.
It was a big ‘if’. He’d been to two pubs and there’d been no sign of Maddie, and the staff he’d asked had never heard of her. But what if they just didn’t know her? What if her father reserved the table? What if she’d been within a mile of him and he hadn’t known?
He came into the third village a little before two o’clock. There were pale stone buildings on either side of a ro
ad that curved gently in one direction first, then another, leading to a street that was lined, on each side, by pale stone buildings. His heart sped up. Hadn’t she described exactly this? Fairy lights were strung from the highest point of one roof to the next and so on and so forth so the whole street had a zig-zag of lights overhead. The sky was a leaden grey and little tiny flakes of snow had begun to fall. There was barely any sign of life – no cars, no people – until he reached the very end and the street gave way to an ancient square – Tudor period, if he’d been forced to guess. There were three pubs and one, he saw, had a hanging sign with a coat of arms and beneath it: THE WANDERING GOOSE.
He moved quickly, his hand falling to the handle in his door, his eyes scanning the building on autopilot. And then he froze.
Maddie.
Everything inside of him lurched. He released his grip on the car door and sat right where he was, fumbling and switching his headlights off so as to avoid drawing attention to his parked car. At this distance, she’d never be able to see through the darkly tinted windows of his car.
But he could see.
He could stare, and he did. Alone in his car, he allowed himself this indulgence, this moment, to simply sit – knowing what he did now about his own feelings – and watch her.
He watched as she reached across and put her hand on her father’s, smiled at him in a way that almost ripped Nico’s heart from his chest, then looked towards the window so he could see right into her eyes. And everything plummeted inside of him.
The separation was suddenly intensely painful. Having her in another building, separated by a car park, glass, stone, steel. He wanted her in his arms, immediately.
But he’d waited this long. Months. Months of missing her and refusing to acknowledge that to himself. Months of wanting to cave and call her, and not doing so. He could sit in his damned car until she’d finished her meal. Couldn’t he?
“Thanks for lunch, dad.”
Her dad reached over, straightening her novelty crown into place, then kissing her cheek. “My pleasure. Come on, love. Let’s go see what Liz has to say about the year that was.” He wiggled his thick, grey brows so she smiled and nodded.
“Sounds good.”
The door had bells hanging above it, and they jingled as Graeme and Maddie stepped out. Sometime during lunch it had begun to snow, and the ground had a light covering now. It would be thick in the morning if it kept coming like this.
She turned towards her parents’ home, linking arms with her dad as they took a few steps in that direction.
“Maddie.”
She stopped walking instantly. Everything inside of her responded to that voice. She spun quickly, dropping her dad’s arm, her face as pale as the fresh-fallen snow, her eyes huge.
Because there, on the other side of the door to The Wandering Goose was Nico Montebello.
Nico. His name pulsed through her body, reminding her of everything he was to her all at once so it was like being shaken back to life.
Looking at her as though he had no idea what to say. Looking at her as though…
As though what?
Nothing made sense. “What are you doing here?”
He grimaced and took a step towards her but a family emerged from the pub at that exact moment, so loud, so interrupting, so awful in that moment Maddie felt an uncharacteristic urge to shout at them to hurry up! But she didn’t. She stood there, beside her dad, with snow falling and the distant sound of carollers practicing for the evening’s church service, and she tried to remember to breathe and all the while her eyes devoured Nico at every opportunity they had until finally the family had dispersed and it was just them, once more.
And then he moved, stepping towards her, so she had only a few seconds to brace for the fact that he might touch her. Kiss her. God, how she wanted to touch him. Heck, she wanted to hurtle herself forward and close the distance, to throw herself into his arms and close her eyes and breathe him in and forget that she’d laid her heart out for him and he’d politely, and oh so kindly, handed it right back to her.
“A friend of yours, love?”
Maddie turned to her dad, her tongue thick in her mouth, speech impossible.
“Nico Montebello.” Nico, apparently, didn’t have the same problem. He held a hand out and Graeme shook it. Seeing these two men together was surreal and emotional and Maddie was rapidly losing any possible claim on calm.
“Nico?” Her voice was surprisingly cool despite her flummoxed nerves. “Why are you here?”
He dropped Graeme’s hand, but didn’t reach for her. Instead, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his eyes burning her with the force of their concentration. “I came to see you.”
She frowned. That didn’t make sense. She wracked her brain, trying to understand and then realised the only reason he could possibly be here was because of Michael. Maybe something had gone wrong? Perhaps the charges had been dropped?
“Love, I’ll head home.” Her dad reached out and squeezed her forearm. “See you soon?”
“Ah, yeah. Soon. Okay.” The idea of Michael had skittled her nerves further, so her fingertips were trembling a little. She watched as her dad made his way down the street, pausing near the bottom to talk to a man she vaguely recognised.
“Tell me,” she said quietly, closing her eyes. “Just get it over with.”
Nico was quiet. He didn’t speak. So she braced for even worse news.
“I can handle it, Nico. Just rip the Band-Aid off. I need to know.”
“Know what?”
“Is he out? Is that it?”
“Is who out?”
“Michael. Has he been released? Are the police not pursuing charges after all?”
Nico’s eyes flew wide and now he did reach for her, his hand stopping just short; before he could touch her shoulder, he dropped it back to his side.
“No, cara, no. I told you, he’ll be in prison for a very long time.”
“Oh.” She felt relief, yet calm didn’t follow. Her heart continued to pound, her fingers to shake. Even the falling snow couldn’t cool her heated brow.
“So why are you here?”
Another group emerged from the pub, loud and jovial, so he looked over his shoulder. “I’m parked just there. Can we speak in my car?”
In his car? Alone with him? In a confined space? Maddie wasn’t sure she could trust herself. She shook her head, her eyes unconsciously portraying her mistrust. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Afraid I’m going to kidnap you?”
It was a joke but she couldn’t even muster a ghost of a smile in response. “No.”
Her eyes strayed towards her father, except he wasn’t there anymore. The street was empty, just the pretty twinkling of fairy lights overhead and the distant singing of Christmas songs.
Nico sighed, lifting a hand and running it through his hair. He seemed different somehow. Less confident. Less sure of himself.
“You’re scaring me, Nico.” Then, with another frisson of alarm. “Is it Dante? Is he sick? Is he –,”
“No! Stop! Let me speak.”
“Well, hurry up. I have no idea what you’re doing here and I hate that. Tell me so I can understand and then go back to my normal life, please.”
He nodded, but his eyes were watchful, his expression impossible to interpret. “Is that what you want?”
“What?”
“To go back to your ‘normal’ life?”
She gulped for air, looking away from him, a hint of anger bursting through her. “I don’t know what my normal life is,” she said with a shake of her head. “Honestly? I feel like a tiny boat on an enormous ocean with no idea what direction I’m going in, completely at the mercy of the tides and honestly, I hate it. Half the time I feel close to sinking. That doesn’t make any sense, I know, it’s just –,”
“It makes perfect sense,” he promised, his voice rough. “Because it is exactly how I feel.”
“You don’t ge
t it,” she refuted immediately.
“I do get it,” he insisted. “Because ever since you left Italy I have felt like I couldn’t make sense of anyone or anything. It’s as though all the best parts of me disappeared the day you did, and I no longer know who I am. Without you, I don’t make sense. Without you, nothing makes sense, nothing works, and most importantly, nothing seems to matter.” He paused, scanning her face, perhaps waiting for her to speak but his words had rendered her utterly mute. “You are my everything, Maddie. My everything. You are all I think about, all I dream about, you’re the person I want to speak to whenever anything of interest happens in my day. I miss your smile and your laugh and your voice and all I want is to go back to that morning in Italy and shake myself for not understanding any of this before it was too late.”
Snow fell. People moved around them. The lights overhead twinkled. But Maddie was only conscious of Nico. She felt his every movement in every cell of her body. They were two people connected by a thousand invisible strings.
“I don’t –,” she shook her head. Words wouldn’t come.
“All of my life, I’ve told myself I don’t believe in love. Certainly that I don’t want it. But the truth is, I’d just never known anything like what you make me feel.” He moved closer, so his body was separated from hers by only a hair’s breadth. “And the more I felt for you, the more I cared for you, the more I loved you, yes, the more afraid I became, because in my experience, love doesn’t end very well. It’s not something I ever planned to rely on as a source of happiness. I like things that are tangible and make sense. I like numbers,” he reminded her so she was transported back to the cave in Italy, that beautiful, magical evening they’d shared looking out over the sparkling ocean. But he was so serious, his expression so sombre, that even those memories didn’t warm her. “I like things that are rational and sensible, easy to predict and control.” He shook his head. “That’s not this.”
Billionaire Brides: An Anthology Page 63