Unlocking the Italian Doc's Heart

by Kate Hardy

  ‘Thank you—that’s very kind,’ Lorenzo said, handing his phone over.

  They duly posed for the photograph with the statue, and thanked the kind tourist.

  ‘So now it’s just the last thing—the kiss on the balcony,’ he said with a smile. ‘Even though our families aren’t like the Montagues and Capulets.’

  ‘I’m very glad they’re not,’ Jenna said. They’d had a family barbecue, the previous weekend, and their families had got on really well. Ava had loved playing with Jack and Emily, toddling after them and letting Emily boss her about. All she’d talked about ever since was ‘Emmy and Dak’. All three generations had liked each other, and Jenna had started to think that this was what she really wanted. A large, noisy, happy family.

  And a child of her own.

  But did Lorenzo want that, too?

  The way he’d been with his family, right in the middle, made her think maybe he did. Now, among the crowd of tourists, wasn’t really the right place to bring up the subject. But she’d talk to him later.

  They wandered through the old house, looking at the exhibition, and then waited their turn to kiss on the famed balcony.

  And he kissed her as if he really meant it. As if he was telling her without words, here in the most romantic place in Verona, that he loved her. That their love would last for all time, like that of the star-crossed lovers...

  Jenna enjoyed wandering hand in hand with Lorenzo through Verona, exploring the city; the old buildings were beautiful, with the plaster on the walls painted all shades of cream, saffron, deep red, pink and apricot. Some had arched loggias; others had wrought iron balconies stuffed with terracotta pots of deep red geraniums which she couldn’t resist photographing; and a tall stripy tower loomed up above the roofs in the old market place.

  ‘This is so beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘There’s something special about the city,’ he agreed.

  And when they finally went back to the hotel to shower and change, Jenna loved the view from the rooftop terrace: the red roofs of Verona spread out before them, with the sun setting in the background.

  Nerves swooped in her stomach as they walked to Matteo’s restaurant. She’d got on well with Lorenzo’s grandparents and his family at the villa. Would she get on as well with his famous chef cousin? Celebrity chefs always seemed to have volatile tempers which they lost easily; although Lorenzo had said that Matteo was down to earth—warm and sweet, like the rest of his family—she worried. Lorenzo was close to his family. If any of them didn’t like her...

  ‘OK?’ Lorenzo asked, his fingers tightening round hers.

  ‘OK,’ she fibbed.

  ‘It’s fine. He and Patrizia will love you,’ he said, as if guessing at her worries. ‘Mum’s already texted me to say that Nonna called her and told how much everyone loved you at the villa.’

  Matteo’s wife Patrizia greeted them at the door and showed them to their table. ‘We’re so glad to meet you, Jenna,’ she said. ‘Matteo will be out to see you with dessert and Alessia—our daughter—is your waitress tonight.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jenna said. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, too. And the restaurant is gorgeous.’ It was very plain, with soft wall lighting; the tables all had plain cream damask cloths and a single bright red gerbera, teamed with dark wood chairs with cream padded seats.

  ‘Matteo wanted the customers’ attention on the food, not the decor,’ Patrizia said, following her gaze.

  And how, Jenna thought when she tasted it. Lorenzo had ordered the tasting menu, so there was an amuse-bouche of a scallop in foamed anchovy butter, followed by courgette flowers stuffed with ricotta, taleggio and thyme.

  ‘This is amazing,’ she said when Alessia came to collect their plates. ‘I can see exactly why your father has a Michelin star.’

  The angel-hair pasta with butter and truffles was equally gorgeous, followed by cod with a sesame crust, spinach, creamed beans and wasabi mayonnaise.

  And then finally Matteo came out to see them, bringing them the panna cotta with passion fruit.

  ‘It’s been too long, Renzo,’ he said, enveloping Lorenzo in a bear hug. ‘Welcome to Verona, Jenna. I hope you’re enjoying our city.’ He kissed her on both cheeks.

  ‘Your food is utterly amazing,’ she said.

  He grinned. ‘Thank you. Renzo says you have a good palate but you’re hopeless in the kitchen and even I couldn’t teach you how to boil water.’

  ‘That’s about right,’ she said, smiling back. ‘Washing up I can do, though. Or pouring a bowl of cereal and mixing in some yogurt and berries.’

  Matteo laughed and hugged her. ‘Well, as long as you enjoy eating. That’s what matters.’

  ‘Oh, I do,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘See. I told you. Flashy dabs of sauce,’ Lorenzo said, pointing to the plate.

  ‘That’s coulis, to you, Lorenzo Conti. Dabs, indeed. I’ll have you know it’s artfully done,’ Matteo said, but he was laughing rather than appearing offended. ‘How do you like the city, Jenna?’

  ‘It’s a beautiful place,’ Jenna said.

  ‘And yesterday you met Nonna, Nonno and the rest of the family?’

  She nodded. ‘At the vineyard.’

  ‘It’s a good place. Happy,’ he said. ‘I’m needed in the kitchen, but maybe Renzo will bring you back for a longer visit, next time, so Patrizia and I can spend some proper time with you.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Jenna said.

  ‘I will,’ Lorenzo promised.

  * * *

  When they’d finished their coffee and petits fours, they said goodbye to Patrizia and Alessia, then walked along the river before finally heading back to the hotel. They sat on the wrought-iron chairs on the hotel’s rooftop terrace, sipping Prosecco and chilling out under the stars. And when they finally went back to their room, Lorenzo made love to Jenna so tenderly that she thought her heart would burst with happiness.

  ‘Thank you for bringing me here to meet your family,’ she said. ‘I know your parents pretty much pushed you into it.’

  ‘That’s par for the course in an Italian family,’ he said. ‘But their hearts were in the right place. They adored you and they wanted the rest of the family to meet you and adore you, too.’

  ‘I like your family. And I like the fact that you’re all so close.’ She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I’ve been thinking. You know you asked me how hard it was to give up Ava, and I said to you it wasn’t that difficult because I always knew she was Lucy’s and I knew most of my feelings were due to pregnancy hormones? I don’t think I was entirely honest with you—or with myself. I always did think of Ava as Lucy’s baby rather than mine, and that hasn’t changed; but now I know I want something like that for myself. A partner I love and who loves me all the way back, and a baby to make our family complete.’

  * * *

  Lorenzo had been thinking along similar lines, particularly when he and Jenna had stuck the note with their initials onto the wall at Juliet’s house. But now she was actually saying it out loud, a rush of panic flooded through him.

  Jenna wasn’t like Georgia. She’d been open about the difficulties with her ex and he knew she’d been the one to walk away. He knew that Jenna would never, ever take a baby away from anyone. For pity’s sake, she’d given her twin the most precious gift of all—she’d carried Ava for Lucy.

  But the panic just wouldn’t go away. The last time he’d committed to a family life, it was suddenly pulled out from beneath him.

  And today was the toughest day of the year for him. Florence’s birthday. He’d hoped that this year wouldn’t be as bad as last year, that if he filled his time thoroughly and spent it with people he loved it would stop him brooding. Yet now it all slammed back. The loss. The sadness. The lack of closure. Not knowing how she was and if she was happy.

  He wanted to move on, h
e really did. But today was the one day of the year he found really hard. A day when he didn’t want to think about anything too monumental and taxing—something as massive as the idea of starting another family.

  Everything was suddenly so overwhelming that he couldn’t think straight and he couldn’t think how to explain it.

  He was silent for so long that she twisted round to look up at him. ‘Lorenzo? Are you OK?’

  ‘I... I can’t do this,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I could. But I can’t.’

  He hated himself for the surge of misery that welled up in her eyes.

  ‘It’s not you,’ he said, wanting to make it better. ‘It’s me.’ And he knew he owed her a proper explanation. He raked his hand through his hair. ‘It’s Florence’s birthday today.’

  * * *

  Florence’s birthday.

  Lorenzo’s little girl. The child he didn’t get to see.

  Maybe that was what his grandmother had talked to him about.

  And Jenna had just talked to him about starting a family, on the day he’d clearly been upset about but had been trying to hide it. It was the worst possible time she could’ve chosen to talk about wanting children, and she wouldn’t have said a word if she’d known what today was. She felt absolutely horrible, as if she’d just rubbed the top off all his scars—though she really hadn’t intended to hurt him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ she asked.

  ‘Because I...’ He shook his head, looking lost. ‘I guess I wanted to try and do something positive today. I wanted you to have a good time here in Italy.’

  ‘I did. But...’ She bit her lip. ‘You haven’t.’

  ‘It’s not you. It’s me,’ he said.

  And that was the problem, she realised. That hurt would never, ever go away. That aching sense of loss. She would always be part of Ava’s life; but Lorenzo wasn’t part of Florence’s and never could be. And until he could come to terms with that—and she wasn’t sure he ever could—he was just too hurt to be able to open his heart fully to someone else.

  She simply wasn’t going to be enough for him.

  ‘I’m so sor—’ he began.

  ‘Please don’t,’ she said. ‘Please don’t say anything else, Lorenzo. I get it. I wish I could fix everything for you, but I can’t. And I’m not going to make things worse by trying and failing over and over again.’

  * * *

  Jenna turned her back to him, lying right on the edge of the mattress, clearly putting as much distance as she could between them. How Lorenzo wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her he hadn’t meant it like that. But he was pretty sure that she’d push him away physically, just as he’d pushed her away emotionally. Hating this whole situation and not having a clue how to fix it, he turned his back to her.

  So much for this being the romantic weekend away he’d planned.

  What the hell was wrong with him? His family adored her, and she adored them.

  Why couldn’t he break away from his past and move on properly, the way he wanted to?

  He still didn’t have an answer, the next morning. From the shadows under Jenna’s eyes, she’d slept as badly as he had.

  And things were more awkward between them this morning than he’d ever thought possible. She could barely look him in the eye.

  ‘You have the shower first,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to arrange room service for breakfast?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, it’s OK. I’m not hungry.’

  ‘You need to eat, Jenna—or at least have some coffee,’ he said.

  ‘Coffee, then.’

  He had pastries sent up as well. She crumbled a corner of one of them onto a plate but didn’t eat. He didn’t feel like eating, either, and the coffee didn’t help much.

  ‘I know we were supposed to be going to the lake today,’ she said, ‘but I’d rather not. I’m not feeling so great.’

  And he knew why. Because he’d hurt her. ‘I’m s—’

  ‘Please don’t, Renzo,’ she cut in, and the pain in her voice slashed at him. ‘I just want to go home.’

  ‘OK. Give me half an hour to change our flights and sort everything out,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll go for a walk to clear my head,’ she said. ‘Alone.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’m a grown-up, Renzo. If I lose my way, I’ll use the app on my phone to get my bearings and direct me back to the hotel.’

  He couldn’t argue with that. ‘I’ll see you later, then.’

  * * *

  What had she done wrong? Jenna wondered.

  Or maybe it wasn’t something she had or hadn’t done. Maybe it was simply who she was.

  Danny had rejected her, too.

  She didn’t think Lorenzo had rejected her because of the surrogacy; he’d seemed absolutely fine when he’d met her family. And he’d even said how much his family liked her. His grandparents wanted her to come back, his cousin had teased her but in a way that made her feel she was part of the family...

  But Lorenzo himself clearly wasn’t ready for this. He might never be. She’d been the one to push it, last night. Buoyed by the way he’d looked at her at Juliet’s house, the way he’d put a note with their initials on the wall, she’d told him straight out that she wanted a family. Too much, too soon; OK she hadn’t known that it was Florence’s birthday yesterday, but she’d known how much he missed his little girl and how hard he found it to let go of the past. She’d been carried away by the romance of the city, opened up to him about what was in her heart when maybe she should have waited. She’d fallen too hard and too fast for him—and this was the result. Utter misery.

  Now she knew her mistake. And she’d keep things professional between them in future.

  * * *

  Lorenzo drove them to the airport, glad that having the roof of the car down meant it was too noisy to talk to each other. It was the best excuse he could come up with.

  Jenna had completely backed off from him.

  It was his own fault, and he knew it: he’d been the one to push her away. Then again, she knew his situation. If she’d really wanted to be with him, she wouldn’t have let him push her away. So maybe taking things back to a professional relationship only was the best thing for both of them.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WORKING TOGETHER ON the ward was awful.

  Lorenzo was perfectly polite and professional towards Jenna at the hospital; but she knew a whole other side of him, and she found it hard to reconcile the warm, sexy, gentle man she’d dated with the cool, closed-off doctor she worked with now.

  She was pretty sure everyone else on the ward had noticed the coolness between them, though thankfully nobody seemed to be gossiping about them.

  And of course Lucy had wanted to know how everything had gone in Verona, as had Jenna’s parents. Jenna deliberately hadn’t told them that she’d come back to London a day early, and because she wasn’t supposed to be home on the Monday night she managed to avoid her usual dinner with Lucy on the grounds that she was in Italy. Being busy with work and her exercise classes during the rest of the week meant she’d got a breathing space until the weekend before she saw her family face to face, so she was able to fudge things and talk happily on the phone to them about how nice Lorenzo’s grandparents were and how beautiful Verona and the area around it was.

  She was telling them the truth: just not the whole truth.

  The truth that she and Lorenzo weren’t a couple any more.

  The truth that she’d blown it.

  She still hadn’t found the words to explain to her family by the middle of the week, when she was rostered onto the Paediatric Assessment Unit. Thankfully, Lorenzo had ward rounds and clinic, so she knew she wouldn’t have to work with him and face the awkwardness between them that day.

  ‘Florence Reynolds?’ Jenna asked.<
br />
  A worried-looking woman stood up, carrying a toddler.

  ‘Please come and sit down,’ Jenna said, ushering her over to the cubicle. ‘Obviously I’ve seen the note from your family doctor, but I always like to hear what my patients’ parents have to say, so can you tell me how Florence has been, Mrs Reynolds?’

  ‘She’s always been healthy, apart from the odd cold that everyone gets. But a month ago she went off her food, started sleeping more than usual, and she seems to be breathing really fast.’ She stroked the little girl’s hair. ‘I took her to our family doctor—he said he thought it was a bug, but she didn’t get any better so I went back. He referred Florence for tests.’

  ‘You said she’s sleeping more than usual. I know she’s only nineteen months old, but does she say she’s tired, or do you just notice her getting more tired than usual when she does everyday things?’

  ‘She doesn’t seem to have as much energy at toddler group as she used to, and she seems to get out of breath quickly,’ Mrs Reynolds said. ‘We do one of those baby gym classes, and she’s been a bit clingy with me there, wanting to sit on my lap rather than doing what the others do.’

  Jenna made a note. Breathless, tired... ‘Can I examine Florence?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Jenna noticed a slight dilation around Florence’s ankles and abdomen. The little girl’s pulse was slower than she would like; and the number of breaths Florence took per minute was more than average, too.

  This was starting to look very much like a heart problem.

  ‘I’m going to check the oxygen levels in her blood—what happens is that I put this little clip over her finger, and there’s a beam of light to measure the oxygen levels,’ Jenna explained. ‘It won’t hurt her.’

  She wasn’t happy with the oxygen saturation levels, either; and, when she listened with the stethoscope, Florence’s heart sounded much too slow.

  ‘I’m going to send Florence for a chest X-ray,’ she said.

  ‘You think there’s a problem with her chest?’ Mrs Reynolds asked.