Abby’s eyes lifted to where Gabe sat, reading a newspaper on his tablet, apparently absorbed. Yes, it was all spectacular, save for the tension that was zapping between them.
Her heart raced and her skin goosed all over. She drew in a deep breath and told herself she’d be fine, that she could do this. Reminding herself that they were celebrating for Raf.
She was the one who’d put this in motion—now wasn’t the time to start having regrets.
Their marriage would work just fine. The longer they were together, the better she’d get at pretending not to feel anything for Gabe.
He’d put presents beneath the tree, though, and her heart skipped a beat. Were they for Raf? Surely they must be. Not for her…
Her eyes strayed to the tree, a frown on her face. Nothing was labelled. ‘Yes, tempesta. It’s for you.’
‘Oh!’ She spun to face him, her cheeks flushed. ‘I didn’t get you anything.’
‘It’s a gift for both of us.’
She frowned. ‘Shall I open it now?’
Something glowed in his eyes. ‘Raf is awake. Why don’t we get that photo you wanted before he drifts off again?’
Abby nodded. ‘All the staff are upstairs. Shall I…’
‘I can take it.’ He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and propped it on a ledge near the door, then stepped back towards Abby. She held Raf in her arms, smiling down at him, leaving Gabe to take the space beside her. Using his watch, he set the timer going. A light on the phone flashed faster and faster.
‘Ready?’ Gabe asked after a moment.
She nodded and forced a smile to her face, breathing in her husband, her baby, their first Christmas together. The phone clicked, just like an old-fashioned camera, taking the photo, so they’d always have a photograph with which to remember this moment. Abby didn’t break the pose though. Just for that small fraction of time, she let herself pretend that this was all real. Normal.
That Gabe was marrying her because he wanted to, that Raf had been conceived in love. Emotion hitched, heavy, in her throat. It was Christmas; couldn’t she wish?
‘Gabe…’ She looked up at him, not entirely sure what she wanted to say. Their eyes locked and she felt the force of her emotions throbbing around them, so strong and urgent that she wasn’t sure she could ignore them. She knew she didn’t want to.
‘Open your present,’ he suggested, taking Raf from her arms. He held their baby so naturally, as though he’d been doing it all his life, and Abby could only watch, those same emotions intensifying at the proof of Raf’s parentage.
‘He’s so like you.’
‘He’s my son.’
She nodded, spinning away from him. The cloying feelings were heavy inside her, swirling like the hurricane he often called her. Now that she knew how she felt about him, it was impossible not to be conscious of it whenever they were together. She walked towards the gift—it was large in size. A box of something?
‘Open it,’ he said again, close behind her.
Her fingers were trembling when they reached for the ribbon. It was store-wrapped, she noted, pulling at it so that the bow gave easily. She slid her fingers under one edge of the paper and then the next, and finally opened the slit at the back, unpeeling the gift with interest. The back of the box was white, giving no hint of what it contained. But when she turned it over it had a thick plastic window, showing cream lace.
She lifted the lid and stared inside, her lips tugging downwards.
Though the dress was folded into a neat rectangle, there could be no mistaking what Gabe had given her.
‘A wedding gown?’ She lifted it from the box so that she could see it at full height.
It was incredibly beautiful, just what she might have chosen for herself. Lace, long, like something from the twenties, with beads down the back and slightly off the shoulder.
But why was he giving it to her?
She bit down on her lip, turning to face him, her expression quizzical.
‘You wanted to make today memorable,’ he said, the words oddly lacking any emotion whatsoever. Only his dark eyes showed a hint of intensity. ‘So? What do you say? Shall we get married?’
Abby stared at him, her blood rushing so fast she was sure he must hear it. ‘We are getting married.’
‘I mean now.’
‘You mean…today?’
He laughed. ‘Yes, today. Well, once Raf has had another nap perhaps,’ he said as the little baby yawned in Gabe’s big, strong arms. ‘Will that give you enough time to get ready?’
Abby was numb. She nodded, but everything was going too fast, as if she’d inadvertently stepped into quicksand. She draped the wedding dress over a chair and when she smiled at Gabe she didn’t meet his eyes.
Everything she wanted was before her, but it was a poisoned chalice. Marrying Gabe, knowing the limits of what they were—it was like being dragged beneath the ocean.
‘I’ll take him upstairs.’ She held her arms out for Raf, the words stilted, but Gabe shook his head.
‘I’ll do it. You go. Start to prepare.’
Prepare? Could she ever?
‘A priest will be here just after lunch,’ he said with his trademark confidence. ‘Monique and Rosa will witness the wedding for us. Just as you wished.’
Abby nodded, but her whole body was resisting. Not because she didn’t want to marry him, but because marrying him like this would break her.
She needed him to see that! Because if he didn’t, she knew her heart would be a lifelong casualty.
But Gabe was walking away, talking in soft Italian to Raf as he carried him up the stairs. Abby watched them go, her heart sinking further. On autopilot, she lifted the dress, carrying it carefully up the stairs and into her bedroom.
Why was this turn of events so hard to process? They’d discussed the wedding several times before. She’d known he wished to marry sooner rather than later. This made sense.
She was just overthinking it—hoping for a fantasy, praying for a miracle, when she should have known better. There was no such thing, was there? Christmas notwithstanding, theirs was not a fairy tale; there was no happily ever after in store for them.
She showered, long and slow, deliciously warm, lathering herself in soap, breathing in its floral aroma. The dress was visible through the door; she tried not to look at it.
Once she had dried herself and styled her hair into an elegant chignon, she began to apply her make-up. Only halfway through, she wondered if she should have put the dress on first?
She wasn’t good at this; she needed someone to help her. Someone who knew about weddings. It was probably why brides usually got ready for their weddings surrounded by their friends—their mothers.
She walked towards the dress and the moment she touched it tears welled in her eyes. Her own mother should have been with her. Or her father. Certainly some of her friends. But they’d all dropped away when her father had disowned her. Without the financial means to keep up with their lifestyle, Abby had found herself completely alone.
Now? She had a baby and a fiancé. Soon a husband. But there was no love there. She’d been wrong before to think she could make do with the sensible, practical justification for this wedding. It would be the loneliest marriage imaginable.
A sob racked her slender body and she wrapped her arms tightly around her waist.
It was useless.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t marry Gabe. Everything about it felt wrong; she was suffocating. Dying. Drowning.
She had to tell him how she felt. He might be angry but she couldn’t let that stop her. She wouldn’t marry him like this. He still hadn’t forgiven her for what she’d done—and he probably never would. There was no way she could have a husband who despised her—and especially not when she loved him with all her heart.
Abby had no choice:
she went in search of Gabe, certainty growing with each step. She found him in his bedroom, wearing a tuxedo that made her bones melt and her pulse race.
‘You look…amazing,’ she said honestly, clicking the door shut. Her breath was burning in her lungs, torturing her with every exhalation.
‘Thank you.’ He frowned as he took in the jeans and sweatshirt she was wearing.
‘You didn’t like the dress?’
‘The dress is beautiful,’ Abby whispered hoarsely. ‘But, Gabe…’ More tears moistened her eyes. ‘God, Gabe, I can’t… I can’t marry you.’
She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces.
‘Abigail?’ He crossed the room but didn’t touch her. He was close to her though; she could feel his warmth and strength and it thawed her, just a little, but enough. She opened her eyes, dared to face him, to meet his gaze head-on.
‘What’s happened?’
Her expression was pinched. ‘Tell me why you want to marry me.’
‘You know why we’re marrying,’ he said with a deep frown. ‘We’ve gone over that.’
‘In New York,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘That feels like a long time ago.’
His frown deepened. ‘Nothing’s changed since then.’
‘Are you so sure of that?’ she murmured.
He frowned.
‘We were different people then,’ she said urgently.
‘In what way?’
‘I was different,’ she amended, rubbing her palms together, lost in thought. ‘I was exhausted and scared, and angry and hurt. I was so, so tired. So worried about money. And I wasn’t thinking clearly. I truly believed I was making the right decision in coming here with you. That I could marry you as easily as I could slip on a new winter coat or…’ her eyes dropped to her hand ‘…an engagement ring.’
‘It is easy,’ he said firmly. ‘We have a son together, and now we’ll marry.’
‘That makes it sound black and white. What about all the grey in between?’
‘What grey?’
‘All of this is grey,’ she said emphatically. ‘You were so angry with me in New York—and now? I don’t know what you are. We’re together at night but in the day we’re like strangers in this huge castle. I can’t… I just can’t marry you if this is what our life would be like.’
His eyes sparked with hers, dark emotions obvious in their depths. ‘I see.’ The words were a grim indictment.
‘You don’t want to marry me either,’ she pointed out with a tight grimace. ‘Do you?’
‘Do I strike you as a man who would do anything he didn’t wish?’
‘I mean if there were no Raf.’
He looked at her for several moments and then shook his head. ‘I have no interest in discussing hypothetical scenarios.’
‘I need to hear you say it,’ she murmured. ‘I need you to tell me that if it weren’t for Raf…’
‘Why?’
‘Just tell me. If there were no Raf. If I’d never got pregnant…’ She stared at him, refusing to back down, even when her breath was straining in her chest.
‘Fine. If it weren’t for Raf then no, we wouldn’t be getting married.’
Abby’s heart, so fragile, so wounded already, lurched painfully. It was the confirmation she’d needed, but now that he’d said it she had no idea how to make sense of his feelings. They were so different to hers. How had she let herself fall in love with him? Or had she really had any choice in the matter?
‘I don’t know why you’re complicating this.’
She dug her fingernails into her palms and looked past him. ‘I can’t marry you if I think this is just a pragmatic decision for you. If your feelings aren’t engaged at all.’
‘I feel many things,’ he disagreed. ‘I feel a desire to do what’s right for my son. I feel a desire to do what’s right for you.’
Abby swept her eyes shut. She’d been wrong. Some things were black and white, and staying here with Gabe was one end of that extreme. It was wrong, and she was crazy not to have seen that sooner. Pain warred with certainty inside her.
‘I’m not your mother, and you’re not your father. We were never a great love affair. I’m not begging you to do this, and you can’t change history by marrying me.’ She angled her face away from him, knowing she couldn’t witness the cold rejection that she presumed must be on his features. She needed to say her piece and be done with it. ‘I want Raf to have a family too. Neither of us knew what that was like. But this marriage would make me miserable, Gabe. And I think you’d come to resent me—even more than you do now—if we were to go through with it.’
‘I don’t resent you,’ he said sharply.
‘Yes, you do. You resent me for Calypso. You resent me for being Lionel Howard’s daughter. You resent me for having your baby. I can’t live with that.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Shades of grey?’ she prompted, her smile without humour.
He took a step towards her, his breath an impatient exhalation. ‘I understand the power your father had over you and I understand why you did what you did that night.’
It wasn’t forgiveness. She knew he’d never trust her, never love her. His words changed nothing.
‘I can’t marry you.’ The words were loaded with all the pain in her heart, but as she said them she knew it was the right decision. Finally, amid all this confusion, she had found her way to the truth she should have discovered earlier.
He let out a sound of pure frustration. ‘What the hell do you want from me? Tell me and I’ll give it to you! This marriage is worth fighting for.’
‘There is no marriage,’ she interjected, her temper rising.
‘Fine! We won’t marry today. It was just an idea. Take your time, plan the wedding you want, just…’
‘Time won’t change the fact that you don’t love me.’
The statement surprised them both. Silence fell in the room, heavy and oppressive.
Abby looked at his face and there was such confusion there that she almost pitied him. ‘I’m not marrying someone who doesn’t love me. You might think it’s childish, but I believe in love. I want to be with someone who adores me and that’s never going to be you, is it?’
For once, Gabe was the one who seemed lost for words.
‘My mother loved my father,’ he said finally. ‘And it killed her. I swore to myself I’d never love anyone.’
‘You love Raf. You love Noah.’
His lips twisted. ‘Those I couldn’t help.’
She turned away from him and nodded. He didn’t love her; he never would. She exhaled a shaky breath, a wave of sadness threatening to drown her. She had to be courageous—if she didn’t leave him now she never would, and she’d be miserable.
‘You don’t love me either,’ he said softly. ‘That’s why this marriage makes such perfect sense. We get on well enough and we both adore our son. We’re great in bed together and we’re intellectually well-matched. You know all about my business, courtesy of your father. This marriage has everything I want.’
Abby pressed her fist against her mouth to silence a sob. ‘That sounds like a perfect recipe,’ she muttered.
‘I’m glad you agree.’
‘I don’t! I was being sarcastic! I just told you I won’t marry if there’s no love, and you’re enumerating a sensible list for a perfectly loveless marriage. It’s not what I want for my life.’
Only the sound of his breathing punctuated the air. Abby kept her back to him so she didn’t see the look of visceral pain that crossed his face. Being left was nothing new to Gabe—he’d been abandoned by almost everyone his whole life. He’d kept himself closed off for a reason, and Abigail was reminding him exactly why now.
Only this wasn’t just about losing Abigail.
‘Our reasons for marrying haven’t changed. I want to raise my son, and I want to raise him here. If you won’t stay, then we have to face the reality of a custody dispute.’
Abigail squeezed her eyes shut and when she turned to face him she was as pale as a sheet. ‘Are you actually threatening to take him away from me?’
‘No.’ His frown deepened. ‘I don’t want to do that, Abigail. But he’s my son and I want to be in his life.’
‘You can be. That’s not contingent on us marrying.’
‘I want to be in his life all the time. I won’t be a part-time father.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ she asked, numb all over.
‘I’ve made my suggestion—that we get married. It seems to be the best way forward. But if you disagree, I believe it’s your turn to come up with an alternative.’
She ground her teeth together. ‘I won’t give up my son.’
‘And nor will I.’ He thrust his hands on his hips. ‘And when you contemplate your future, perhaps you should remember the resources I will bring to any custody battle and ask yourself whether staying here mightn’t be easiest.’
She dipped her head forward, breathing in sharply, trying to inflate her lungs without success. It took several moments for the feeling of dangerous light-headedness to pass. Finally, she pinpointed him with her gaze, her eyes holding his.
‘You’re threatening me?’
Gabe thought about denying it, but what was the point? He was giving her an ultimatum, knowing full well what she’d choose. That knowledge sat inside him like a heavy, sharp rock, but he didn’t back away. He glared at her for a long moment, ignoring the shot of pain he felt to see the hurt in her face. ‘As I’ve said, it’s your decision.’
Tears welled up in her eyes. His stomach lurched.
‘I’m going to Rome for a couple of days. You can tell me what you’ve decided when I return.’
* * *
The phone call came early the next morning. He awoke disoriented with a banging head and a throbbing low in his gut, as though the fine blade of a knife had slid along his chest all night long. He pushed up groggily, noting with a frown that he was in his Rome apartment.
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