by Amy Andrews
‘My mother made the album for me after…’
Valentino didn’t push her to complete the sentence. ‘It’s a good idea. She obviously took a great deal of care with it.’
Paige nodded. ‘Mum’s very good at craftwork. She does all her own stationery and cards.’
Valentino flipped the pages over, taking great care to linger over each photo with the reverence it deserved. Towards the end they became more medicalised. There were more tubes than baby.
‘She had several chest tubes, I see.’
‘She kept blowing pneumothoraxes towards the end. Her chronic neonatal lung disease was so bad she didn’t respond to any treatment and they just couldn’t ventilate her.’
Valentino didn’t say anything. What was there to say? It must have been agony to watch. In fact, it was written all over Paige’s face in the photos. The album wasn’t just a timeline of Daisy’s life but a startling map of Paige’s grief.
‘They withdrew treatment?’
‘Yes. She’d suffered so much.’ Paige reached out and traced Daisy’s face with her forefinger. ‘We couldn’t ask any more of her.’
The ‘we’ soon became evident as Valentino turned to the second last page. A photo of a blond man looking down at Daisy, his hand resting against her ever-present woollen cap, jumped out at him. ‘Your husband?’
Paige nodded. ‘Arnie.’
‘He…left?’
‘Two days after Daisy’s funeral.’
Valentino gripped the edges of the album. How could he do that? How could he walk away from his grieving wife and his other child? What kind of a man did that? ‘Do you have contact with him? Does McKenzie see him?’
Was that one of the other factors that Paige had to consider? Was she still carrying a candle for him? The thought struck deep in Valentino’s chest. Surely not?
Paige snorted. ‘The only correspondence I’ve had from Arnie since the day I begged him not to leave me has been through his lawyer when the divorce papers arrived.’
Her voice was laced with bitterness and Valentino knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was Arnie he had to thank for Paige’s less than flattering opinion of men, the brick wall around her heart. But at least she seemed well and truly over him.
Valentino flipped to the last page. He felt Paige tense beside him and he could see why. It was a very raw photo, difficult to even look at without feeling as if he had intruded on something truly intimate. A snapshot full of utter human misery. Painfully private.
Paige was holding a swaddled Daisy. She was free of all her tubes, her eyes swollen and closed, pink cap pulled snugly over her head. Her mouth was a straight line, the lips colourless, her skin deathly pale. The caption in stickers read ‘Rest In Peace Our Precious Daisy’.
Paige was crying in the photograph as she looked down at her daughter with such anguish, clearly distressed. Like she’d give anything in that moment to bring her daughter back. Trade places even. The look said, Don’t go, I haven’t had the chance to get to know you yet.
Completely desolate was a good description and Valentino felt it right to his very soul.
‘She was just too little,’ Paige whispered. It had been a couple of years since she’d seen this photo. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes and then welled up and spilled over.
‘She fought the good fight,’ Valentino murmured.
‘She did. She fought for so long.’
Valentino heard the sob catch in her throat and put his arm around her, tucking her head against his shoulder.
He closed the album and let Paige cry until her tears ran out.
Paige wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed when she pulled away from him. She was just grateful he’d let her cry. He hadn’t tried to tell her not to upset herself or be brave for McKenzie, as Arnie had. He’d just been there.
She used her baggy sleeve to dry her face. ‘Do you see why I can’t go through another pregnancy? I can’t lose another child, Valentino.’
Valentino knew he had to tread carefully here. That just because Paige’s fears weren’t necessarily rational, it didn’t mean they weren’t real to her. ‘I understand why you don’t want to be emotionally vulnerable again. You’ve been through a lot in the last few years.’
Paige nodded, pleased to see he understood. ‘Don’t you see?’ she reasoned. ‘If there is no baby then there’s no chance of what happened to the twins happening again.’
Valentino took her hand. ‘But there is a baby, Paige. Do you think terminating a pregnancy doesn’t count as losing a child?’
‘It’s…it’s different,’ she said defensively.
‘No, it’s not.’
Paige looked at him sharply. Just when she’d thought he understood. ‘Is this a religious thing?’
Valentino’s brow crinkled. ‘What?’
‘You’re Italian. I know it’s frowned on there…’
Valentino was trying to hold onto his temper but it was fraying rapidly. ‘This has nothing to do with religion. It’s my child, Paige. My. Child. I have rights too and if you think I’m going to allow you to terminate this pregnancy, you’re very wrong.’
Paige was surprised to feel the depth of his convictions blast towards her. The vehemence in his speech. The fierce light burning in his gaze. But it didn’t mean he could dictate to her.
‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you care so much? This whole thing smacks of commitment, of long term. I’d have thought you’d be running a mile.’
Valentino knew her assessment was justified but it stung anyway. He stood and strode to the glass doors that overlooked the deck.
‘You thought wrong.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
PAIGE flinched at the steel in Valentino’s voice. But as he continued to stare out of her windows, his hands buried in his pockets, she sensed there was more to his insistence then she knew.
‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’
Valentino could hear his heartbeat pounding like surf in his head. He hadn’t spoken her name in years. But if ever there was a time to open up, this was it. Paige had just shared a part of her life that was intensely private. Maybe it was time to share his?
‘There was a woman.’ His voice was husky and he cleared it. ‘A long time ago.’
Paige stilled. Ah. ‘I see.’
Valentino turned. Where did he even start? ‘We were in love. Or at least I thought we were. I was first year out, an intern, back home. She was a fashion design student. She was…beautiful.’
It was a surprise how much it hurt to hear him talk about a woman in such hushed, awed tones. And even though he was looking at her, Paige knew he’d gone somewhere far away.
‘She was twenty-one and she had all these curves and this gorgeous long hair…’
Valentino stopped and Paige didn’t need to join the dots to know the woman must have been a stunner. She suddenly felt plain and unattractive with her short hair and angular frame.
What had Valentino seen in her?
‘I was completely besotted. I proposed within two months and she leapt at it. Bought her this magnificent rock because she just had to have it. We went to lots of parties, made the society pages. She bragged about marrying a doctor to all her friends and revelled in the kudos.’
He paused for breath and Paige spoke for the first time. ‘What was her name?’
Valentino fought his way back from the past and Paige slowly came into focus. ‘Daniella.’
Once even the mention of the name had sent him a little crazy but he was surprised at how unaffected he felt, standing here today.
What on earth had he seen in her? Looking at Paige now, an intriguing woman with depth and layers, he just couldn’t figure it out. Daniella had been terribly superficial. Yes, she’d been young but all she’d cared about had been clothes and shoes and the trendy new bars in town. He could admit now that conversation had been terribly dull. He’d just been too in lust to see it.
‘Then I took her to meet my parent
s. The whole sign-language thing freaked her out, I think. And when I started to talk about setting a date and planning a family, she ran a mile. She had a career and a social life. How could she possibly fit into her designer wardrobe or drink champagne at glamorous balls with swollen feet and no waist? What if we had a deaf child?’
Paige heard the bitter edge to his voice. ‘Ah.’
Valentino nodded. ‘I was devastated.’
‘Of course. First love is always the hardest.’
Despite having dated on and off throughout her twenties, Arnie had been her first love. She’d fallen for him hard and married him in a rush. His desertion when she’d needed him most had cut deep.
As, obviously, had Daniella’s. Suddenly his playboy rebound love-life made sense. He’d evidently been trying to forget Daniella’s callousness. Who was she to judge how he dealt with his loss? Just because she’d withdrawn completely, it didn’t mean it was the right way to cope.
Was there a book of etiquette somewhere that explained how you were supposed to act when your whole world fell apart?
Valentino’s mouth compressed into a tight line. ‘There’s more.’ He hesitated. How did he say something he’d never truly voiced to anyone before? ‘Six weeks after we broke up I was working night shift in Emergency when Daniella was rushed through the doors. She was haemorrhaging heavily. She’d had a back-street abortion.’
Paige gasped. She hadn’t expected that. ‘Oh, Valentino.’ She got to her feet, crossed the short space between them and placed her hand on his arm. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He captured her gaze. ‘She didn’t tell me she was pregnant. She didn’t ask me for help or bother to find out what I wanted. She just went and took my child from me.’
She closed her eyes against the anguish she saw in Valentino’s. She knew how it felt to have a child taken from you. No wonder he’d been so vehement with her. It must be like Daniella all over again. ‘You wanted to keep the baby?’
Valentino gave her a hard look. ‘I wanted the choice. I wanted to be consulted. Included.’
Paige nodded. ‘That was wrong of her. To act without consulting you.’
‘Damn right.’
‘She was young and scared,’ Paige said gently.
‘So was I,’ he said. ‘But I’m not now.’
Paige sighed and returned to the lounge. She raised pleading eyes to him. ‘Valentino, please don’t make this more difficult for me than it already is.’
‘You want me to make it easy for you? I won’t.’
He strode towards her, dropping to his knees beside her. He grabbed her hand and pressed it to her belly. ‘Feel that. Inside there is our baby. He lives and he grows. He has a heartbeat and every right to be born. He’s going to have my dark wavy hair and your beautiful grey eyes and he’s going to be healthy and perfect and we’re going to love him.’
Paige shook her head from side to side. Damn him. It was ridiculous to think she could feel the baby move but she could have sworn tiny flutters danced beneath their joined hands. And suddenly she could picture him.
Him! For crying out loud!
Just as Valentino had described him. Perfect in every way. A unique blend of both of them.
And she knew she couldn’t do it. Not to Valentino. Or herself. Or the baby. A baby she already loved more than life itself. As she had loved Daisy and McKenzie from the second she’d known about them. Who was she kidding? She could no more deny this tiny life growing inside her than fly to the moon.
And looking at Valentino’s tormented face, she knew she couldn’t hurt him either. Not like that. Not like Daniella had.
Her gaze fell on the album beside her and she touched Daisy’s cheek with heart-breaking reverence. ‘Chances of delivering early again increase in subsequent pregnancies.’ She glanced at Valentino with huge eyes. ‘I’m scared,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t be. I’m not going to let anything happen to our baby.’
And for a crazy moment she believed him.
The next day Valentino arrived on her doorstep, bearing freshly baked blueberry muffins. And an engagement ring.
‘Dr Valentino!’
‘Well, good morning, young lady.’ Valentino crouched down, signing as he spoke. He could just make out the external component of the implant attached to the side of her head and mostly hidden by her gorgeous curls. She was wearing a pink tutu and fairy wings, which looked even sweeter on her diminutive frame.
‘Osservate molto abbastanza oggi.’ Although he spoke in Italian he signed in English so she knew she was looking very pretty today.
‘We’re having breakfast,’ McKenzie signed with a flourish.
‘That’s good.’ Valentino grinned. He opened the bag and let McKenzie peek inside. ‘I brought muffins.’
‘McKenzie, darling?’
Valentino stood as an unfamiliar voice came closer. It sounded older. Paige was obviously not alone.
‘Oh. Hello, there.’
An older woman with Paige’s big grey eyes blinked curiously at him. He recognised her from the photo on the television. ‘Hi. I’m Valentino,’ he said, holding out his hand.
‘Oh, yes.’ Paige’s mother shook his hand. ‘You’re the surgeon who took over from Harry. You did McKenzie’s surgery.’
Valentino smiled. ‘Yes.’ McKenzie slipped her hand into his and he watched as the older woman’s shrewd gaze followed the movement.
‘I didn’t realise you made house calls?’
Valentino saw the teasing sparkle in her eyes and chuckled. ‘Only for my special patients,’ he said, grinning down at McKenzie and signing for her benefit.
‘I’m Adele, Paige’s mother.’
‘Very pleased to meet you.’
And he was. Adele was a fine-looking woman. Tall, like her daughter, she’d aged well with graceful laughter lines around her eyes and mouth. But what struck him the most was her aura of contentment. Adele obviously lived well and laughed a lot. She looked healthy and robust and mischief danced in her eyes. She reminded him of his own mother.
‘Would you care to join us for breakfast?’
Valentino held up the bakery packet, pleased to have bought a few extras. ‘I brought muffins.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be welcome. My daughter seems to have found her appetite at last.’
She gave him a speculative look before turning on her heel, and Valentino smiled as he and McKenzie followed her.
‘Look who I found lurking in the doorway,’ Adele announced as she stepped onto the deck.
An older man looked up from several newspapers he appeared to be reading at once. He looked at Valentino over the top of bifocal glasses with a startled expression. Paige looked up from buttering the last slice of toast.
‘Valentino!’
She wanted to say this really had to stop but he looked all sexy in his casual chinos and open-necked shirt and infinitely male and his dimples screamed lazy Sunday morning.
But this really had to stop.
Adele could see the indecision on her daughter’s face. ‘He brought muffins,’ she said, digging Valentino in the ribs.
Valentino smiled to himself and held out the bag exactly as Adele had no doubt hoped he would. ‘Blueberry,’ he said. ‘Warm. Just out of the oven.’
Paige relented. How could she still be hungry after an omelette stuffed with mushrooms, cheese and bacon and three pieces of toast? ‘My favourite.’
Adele relieved him of the packet, placing it in the centre of the table, and walked around to the empty chair beside Paige and pulled it out for him. ‘Sit here, Valentino.’
As a well-adjusted Italian male, Valentino had a healthy respect for mothers and wasn’t about to argue with one who would hopefully soon be his mother-in-law. But before he sat he stretched his hand across the table towards the man he assumed was Paige’s father.
‘Hello, sir. I’m Valentino Lombardi. Pleased to meet you.’
Paige’s father half stood as he accepted Valentino’s hand in a f
irm, brief shake. ‘McKenzie’s surgeon? Don Eden.’ He looked over his glasses at his wife as he reclaimed his seat, speculation in his gaze. ‘Didn’t realise you blokes made house calls.’
Valentino grinned as Adele winked at him. ‘Coffee?’
‘Valentino would rather eat dirt then drink our heathen colonial coffee,’ Paige said around a mouthful of muffin. ‘Is that a fair summation?’
Valentino chuckled. She had crumbs on her lips and it was most distracting. It was sexy, watching her eat with such gusto. He wondered how she’d look eating something gooey, like ice cream. In bed. With no clothes on. ‘More than fair.’
‘Oh, I don’t blame you,’ Adele said. ‘Nicest coffee we ever had was in Italy, wasn’t it, darling? Where are you from exactly?’ she asked.
They chatted for half an hour about Italy and travelling and McKenzie’s implant. Not that Paige contributed much. After eating two muffins she dropped her head back against her chair and shut her eyes, letting the morning sunshine warm her skin.
She didn’t want to encourage him, she didn’t want him too cosy with her family. Just because she’d agreed not to do anything rash, it didn’t mean they were one big happy family.
Despite his assurances of support, Paige had been burnt before.
It was pleasant conversation but Valentino was charming her parents and it was strangely irritating. As good as he was to look at, as amazing as he smelled this morning—like bakery and sunshine—she wished he would just go.
Valentino found his attention drifting as he chatted with Adele and Don. He was hyper-aware of Paige beside him all loose and relaxed in her chair. She was wearing her usual baggy clothes but whether it was the angle of her body or this particular view he couldn’t help but notice how fuller her breasts seemed. How they formed two firm, high mounds against the thin fabric of her shirt and bounced when she shifted in the chair.
He wanted to nuzzle her neck, let his hand drift to one of those very enticing mounds.