by Amy Andrews
‘It’s not a mess, Paige,’ Valentino said gently. ‘I’m really okay with this.’
Paige felt a bubble of hysteria rise in her throat to join the mix of other emotions. ‘How lovely,’ she said sarcastically.
‘I’m just saying—’
‘Do me a favour,’ she interrupted. ‘Don’t say anything, okay?’
Valentino wisely followed her advice, standing silently, his fists curled by his sides while tears poured down her face. She was in shock. She needed a little time to wrap her head around it. He understood that. But as far as he was concerned, he’d been primed for this moment for a long time. Ever since his ex-fiancée had come into his hospital half-dead from a botched backyard abortion.
Yes, since then he’d taken precautions to avoid it but whether it was his Italian pride or his legendary uncle status, he’d always known deep down that he wanted to be a father.
And he would move heaven and earth to make sure this child, his child, had everything it ever wanted.
Paige didn’t know what to do with herself. Valentino had sat on one of the lounge chairs and was regarding her with his steady brown gaze. ‘How can you be so calm?’ she demanded. Her cheeks felt hot and she knew she must look a mess. Her nose was running and her face was no doubt an ugly, blotchy mess.
Valentino shrugged. ‘I don’t see the point in hysteria.’
Oh, really? As far as she was concerned, this was precisely the moment for hysteria. ‘Why?’ she asked, raking her hands through her hair. ‘Why did you have to come along and ruin everything? I was perfectly happy the way I was.’
Valentino was prepared to talk about it, he was even prepared to argue and to cope with more tears, but he wouldn’t sit here and listen to her lie to herself. ‘I think we both know that’s not true.’
Paige choked on a sob. What did he know about her life? ‘Are you calling me a liar?’
‘I’m just calling it like I see it, Paige.’
Paige’s lips twisted into a bitter grimace. ‘Oh? And what do you see? This should be interesting.’
‘I see a woman whose world was torn apart. One who’s going through the motions but can’t get any enjoyment out of life. I see someone who’s physically and emotionally starving.’
Paige shied away from the truth that resonated in his words. ‘I’m eating,’ she said, completely exasperated.
‘Great. So your stomach is full but what fills your emotional well, Paige?’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ she dismissed.
Valentino snorted. ‘Of course it does.’
‘Well, what fills yours, then, Valentino?’
‘Vivaldi.’ It was sterner than he had meant it to come out but her stonewalling was frustrating in the extreme. He continued in a gentler tone. ‘A letter from my mother. The first time a patient hears sound. Children laughing. Bruschetta. The way a woman’s waist curves out to her hip. Swan Lake.’
Hell, did he think she had time for ballet? ‘What? No raindrops on roses?’
‘Paige.’ This was no time for deflection. ‘The point is I can take enjoyment from the world around me. When was the last time you did that? When was the last time you rejoiced in being alive?’
Paige fleetingly thought about those few seconds of dread that she woke with every morning and quickly pushed them aside.
‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t have time to get my emotional well filled.’ She suddenly felt overwhelmed by everything and sat in the lounge opposite Valentino. ‘I’m the sole parent to a high-needs child. I certainly don’t have time for another baby. That wouldn’t be fair to McKenzie.’
‘You don’t think McKenzie would like a brother or a sister?’
Paige rubbed her brow. ‘I’m sure she would. I’m also pretty sure she’d like a unicorn. Unfortunately she doesn’t get a say.’
Valentino chuckled but, as he had just stated, she didn’t find any joy in it. She turned beseeching eyes on him. ‘I’m tired, Valentino.’
‘I’ll be here. I’ll help.’
Her gaze turned quickly incredulous. How long would it take an Italian playboy surgeon with an international reputation to grow tired of playing house in little old Brisbane? She hardened her heart to his pretty words. Arnie had also promised he’d help. Promised he’d be here until death parted them.
Obviously he’d taken Daisy’s death as a literal translation. Their daughter hadn’t even been in the ground a week when he’d left for good. She couldn’t go through that kind of heartbreak again. She just couldn’t.
‘And when London calls? When Harry gets back?’
Valentino hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘Then you come with me.’
Paige felt the broken edges of her heart grate together. ‘No, Valentino. I won’t. This is my home. It’s McKenzie’s home. And whether you like it or not, we are a package deal. I’m not going to uproot her when she has years of therapy left.’
‘They do have speech pathologists in other parts of the world.’
Of course they did but Paige had vowed never to blindly follow a man again, like she had Arnie. ‘She trusts the St Auburn’s team. Has built a relationship with them.’
He shrugged. ‘Children adapt.’
Paige glared at him. Spoken like a true egotist, used only to looking after himself. Not a responsible father who put the needs of a child first. ‘So let me get this straight. You want me to up sticks and follow you around the world with your child without any mention of us? Of our relationship? Do you even love me, Valentino?’
Valentino could see the stormy uncertainty in her gaze, the earnestness. He looked away. Love? Dio! He was too busy trying to come to terms with becoming a father. ‘I don’t think that’s relevant.’
Paige’s head spun at his quick dismissal of the fundamental human emotion. ‘How is it not relevant, Valentino? Do you expect me to follow you around like a puppy dog, hoping you can squeeze your child in between your work and dating catwalk models?’
Valentino stood, the scorn in her voice stabbing like a stiletto between his ribs. ‘Dio! No, I have more respect for you than that. We would marry, of course.’
Paige blinked up at him. If that was a proposal, it sucked big time. Not to mention it was utter insanity. ‘What?’
He hadn’t given any of this much thought but now it was out there he knew it was the right thing to do. ‘We’ll get married.’
‘You just told me that love wasn’t relevant and now you want to marry me?’ Try as she may, Paige couldn’t rid her voice of its high squeaky quality.
It had been a long time since Valentino had thought about love. About those three little words. But he did remember how callously they could be used. How empty they could be. ‘Did you love your husband?’
Paige frowned. ‘Yes. Of course.’
‘How’d that work out for you?’
Paige gasped. If her legs had been feeling remotely solid, she would have stood up and slapped his face.
Valentino could see he’d shocked her. Hurt her. He hadn’t meant to be so insensitive. He sat. ‘I’m sorry, that was unthinking of me.’
She was sitting hunched forward in her chair and he reached across the space between them to squeeze her arm but Paige moved back out of his reach.
‘Yes, it was.’
Valentino regarded her solemnly for a few moments. ‘I don’t have all the answers yet, Paige. I’m just saying we can work them out. We have time.’
Except the thought of going through it all again, of growing a baby inside, loving it, wanting it, was just too much for her to bear. Her head throbbed in unison with her heart. It was just all too overwhelming.
She stood. ‘I can’t think straight any more. I have to get home. Mum will be wondering where I am.’
Valentino nodded. ‘Of course. Will you tell them about the baby?’
Paige frowned, her mind too full to think straight. ‘Of course. Eventually.’
She shuffled her feet awkwardly for a moment. Valen
tino’s head was downcast. This had no doubt thrown a huge spanner into the works for him too. And even though he’d just made the most preposterous suggestion she’d ever heard, she kind of got where it came from. This whole thing was completely unexpected.
She had the strangest urge to gather him in close and lay his cheek against her belly where their baby grew. Instead, she brushed past him with a quiet ‘Goodnight’.
Valentino grabbed her hand as she went by. She looked down at him and he fixed her with imploring eyes. ‘You won’t do anything…rash, will you?’
His meaning was clear and her first reaction was anger. Did he seriously think she would go off behind his back and terminate his baby? Or that she’d go off riding a wild bronco or throw herself off a cliff with only a bungee cord around her ankle? But there was a plea in his gaze that reached right inside her gut and she realised he was as vulnerable, as unsure as she. He had as much at stake as she did.
It seemed natural then to follow through on her earlier impulse and move closer. She buried her hand in his hair and urged his cheek against her stomach.
‘Of course not. I won’t do anything without talking to you first.’
Valentino shut his eyes as her fingers sifted through his hair and her aroma filled his senses. Her words were utterly sincere and he didn’t doubt her. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured, turning his face to press a kiss against her belly where his child nestled.
Paige shut her eyes as the innocent gesture constricted her throat and breathed fire into her belly. She wished she could give him what he wanted. But what about when it conflicted with what she wanted?
What about her?
‘I need time to think. I have to go,’ she said, wriggling out of his hold and striding away without looking back.
After a fitful sleep, Paige woke the next morning with only the craving to eat everything in her pantry trumping the dire urge to empty her bladder. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken with biological matters taking such urgent precedence.
Usually she had to fight herself out of a thick shroud of grief that seemed to pounce in her sleep, making her limbs weak and dampening her mood, steeling herself to face the day for McKenzie’s sake. But this morning she was so hungry none of that registered. She would have eaten the sheets had she been tied to the bed.
The devastating fact of her pregnancy, the thing that had had her tossing and turning all night, seemed to pale in comparison to her hunger. She felt like a grizzly bear coming awake after a long winter’s hibernation.
The doorbell rang as Paige passed it and she checked her watch. Seven-thirty. A little early for her parents to be here. McKenzie, unusually, was still sound asleep. Paige had checked on her twice already.
She opened the door to find Valentino standing there. He looked good, even for someone with bloodshot eyes and hair that appeared to have been raked all night. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to leave then she spied the brown bakery bag under his arm at the same time a waft of yeasty goodness reached her nose.
‘Oh, God,’ she said, grabbing the bag, her mouth watering already. ‘Come in,’ she ordered, turning on her heel as she opened the bag and the warm sweet smell of freshly baked croissants hit her olfactory system.
Valentino blinked as Paige disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. He looked at the space where his offering had been and was now gone. He’d been expecting many things this morning. More tears. More anger. Recriminations.
Certainly not this.
Hunger was a good sign, yes?
He found her in the kitchen, tearing chunks off a croissant and stuffing them into her mouth. She was making short work of it. It was compelling viewing as flakes of pastry stuck to her lips and she made little noises of pleasure at the back of her throat as each morsel hit her taste buds.
In fact, he was rather turned on.
When Paige opened her eyes Valentino was the first thing she saw, leaning casually in her doorway. She wasn’t sure if it was the morning light or the sugar rush but he looked pretty good there.
‘Do you own anything that’s not ten sizes too big?’ he mused.
‘Sit.’ She gestured to the stool opposite, ignoring him as she stuffed the last piece of her croissant into her mouth. She turned and retrieved some plates from the cupboard behind her and placed a croissant on each one, pushing his towards him.
She nodded at the side counter. ‘Coffee percolator if you want one.’
Valentino would rather never drink coffee again than settle for the stuff that Australians euphemistically called coffee. ‘Not even if I was dying,’ he said dryly.
Paige laughed. She actually laughed at the disdain on his face. ‘Snob.’ And then she tore some off her second croissant and devoured it. ‘God, this is so-o-o good,’ she sighed, licking her fingers.
Valentino temporarily lost his train of thought. Watching her eat was gastronomic pornography. ‘Your appetite has returned, I see.’
She nodded. ‘I’m so-o-o hungry. I’d forgotten how good things taste,’ she said around another mouthful.
‘Pleased I could be of service.’ He made a mental note to bring a wider array of tempting goodies every time he called in. Which hopefully would be often.
Valentino watched her choose a third croissant, bringing it to her lips, opening her mouth but stopping before she took the first bite. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. This is yours,’ she said, placing it back on top of the bag.
Valentino chuckled. ‘Take it.’
‘No, no.’ Paige shook her head even as the flaky pastry called to her like a mermaid luring sailors onto the rocks.
He picked it up and held it out. ‘I wouldn’t dream of depriving you, bella.’
Paige winced and hesitated. ‘I’m being a pig, aren’t I?’
Valentino shook his head. ‘I could watch you eat all day,’ he murmured, and passed the croissant slowly beneath her nose. ‘Besides, you’re eating for two now, remember?’
Paige made a grab for the pastry on his second pass. Not even the reminder of her predicament, their predicament, overrode her stomach’s demands. Maybe the decision she’d come to in the wee small hours made everything a little easier.
She sank her teeth in, the flakes of soft, velvety pastry melting as they hit her tongue. ‘Mmm,’ she sighed.
Valentino waited until she finished, not wanting it to end but knowing they had things to discuss. ‘We need to talk.’ He pulled a tissue out of the box on the counter top and passed it to her, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate with delicate flakes clinging to her gorgeous mouth.
‘Sorry,’ she apologised, licking at her lips, desperately playing for time now her stomach was satisfied. What had seemed thoroughly reasonable at 3 a.m. didn’t seem so reasonable with Valentino sitting in her kitchen. ‘I bet it’s everywhere.’
Valentino almost groaned as her pink tongue ran back and forth very thoroughly over her lips, picking up stray flakes. Then she dabbed at her mouth with the tissue like a proper society matron. Like she hadn’t just done a good impression of the cookie monster or licked her lips like a porn star.
‘So,’ he said, trying to wrangle his thoughts and the ruckus in his underpants back under control. ‘The baby. You said you needed time to think. I don’t know about you but I’ve thought of little else since yesterday afternoon.’
Paige nodded. This was it. She only hoped he understood. ‘I can’t have this baby, Valentino. I just can’t.’ She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to protest. ‘Please, just hear me out.’ She shifted off the stool. ‘I want to show you something.’
Valentino followed Paige into the lounge room, his anger simmering. If she thought he would sit by and let her decide the outcome for their baby then she was sorely mistaken. Despite evidence to the contrary only a minute ago, he felt so impotent. He would not let another woman take from him what was also his.
‘Sit down.’
He sat and watched her, his thoughts swirling and brooding in
side like a gathering storm. She opened a cupboard beneath some bookshelves and pulled out what appeared to be a photo album. She stood for a moment, running her forefinger over the front cover before turning back towards him and sitting down next to him.
Paige passed him the album, her hands trembling. Her eyes locked with his. Her fingers kept hold of the object, lingering, reluctant to surrender it even when she knew it would help him to understand.
‘I’ve never shown this to anyone before.’
Valentino nodded. He could see her qualms swirling like encroaching fog in her big grey eyes and he felt her resistance when he tried to take the album from her. He could see the struggle and what it took for her to finally release it to him.
‘I am honoured,’ he murmured.
His gaze fell on the window cut out of the cover. It was a close-up of a tiny baby, eyes closed, crisscrossed with tubes and wires. The only way to even tell its sex was from the tiny pink knitted cap that fitted snugly over its head. The little girl was clasping an adult finger in the foreground. It dwarfed the little babe’s arm, giving true perspective to its size.
‘This is Daisy, yes?’
Paige nodded. ‘Yes.’
Valentino hesitated, even though she’d yielded the album to him. ‘May I?’
Paige took a deep breath and nodded. Valentino opened the cover slowly, as if he’d just been handed an incredibly old parchment, and she was touched by his reverence.
Her gaze fell to the pages. There, first up, was a picture of Daisy at four hours old. And three years rushed out at her, sucking her straight back into the tumult. The anguish.
‘They were twenty-seven-weekers, yes?’
Paige nodded as he continued his reverent journey through the album. ‘Daisy was nine hundred grams. McKenzie was twelve hundred.’
Ah. That explained a lot. Premature babies born under one kilo had the odds truly stacked against them.
‘It’s a beautiful album,’ he commented as each picture chronicled Daisy’s battle and ever-increasing medical support. The pages were pale pink and decorated with pretty stickers, silky ribbons and baby-themed cut-outs. Every effort had been made to present Daisy as a baby, a precious gift, cherished and loved.