his insides whenever his gaze met hers he stubbornly put down to excitement and pleasure—not anything more meaningful. He had been down that road of self-deception before, with Domenica, and she had exposed him for the trusting, naïve, lovestruck idiot he had been—too blinded and besotted to know that his wife was fooling around behind his back.
Swallowing down the bitter memory, Fabian nodded towards the grey-paved square outside, complete with fountain and edged by yellowed crumbling buildings with dusty and in some cases ancient shop signs.
‘This place used to be a flower and fruit market, but now the sellers have dwindled to just two or three. It is now mainly used as a meeting place for locals.’
‘You sound like you know it well?’
‘I discovered it when I was a student here. My friends and I would often meet over an espresso here, or stand in the square and put the world to rights!’
‘And what did you study?’ She leant towards him a little across the table, her glance intensely interested.
Quirking a philosophical eyebrow, Fabian grinned. ‘What else does one study in Rome?’ he asked, teasing. ‘The history of art, of course!’
‘What an amazing resource you had for your re-search!’ Laura sighed. ‘It must have been wonderful!’
‘It was.’
‘And is this where you met your ex-wife, Fabian?
In Rome?’
His chest tightened uncomfortably. ‘No. I met Domenica in Tuscany. Her father was a friend of my father’s.’
‘Domenica? That’s a beautiful name.’
‘She was a beautiful girl … but unfortunately her heart was not so beautiful.’
‘Were you—?’
‘Let us talk about something else. I do not care to dwell on the past today … only on the future.’ His tone was firm.
‘And what about the present?’ Leaning back in the straight-backed chair, Laura was reflective. ‘Time goes by so quickly, and sometimes we don’t realise that moments are passing us by because we’re not paying attention.’
‘You have clearly spent a lot of time thinking about such things, I can tell.’
‘After the accident, when I was in hospital, I had nothing but time to reflect on what life was all about. And here in the west we take so much for granted. It seems to me there’s not much point in being given the gift of life if we never even pause to reflect on what is the meaning and purpose of it.’
‘Well … not everyone is as conscious or as appreciative of the gift we have been given as you, my sweet Laura. Most people behave as though they are going to be here for ever!’
‘Sometimes it takes something momentous like an accident or an illness to wake people up. Don’t you think it would be better if they woke up to their life before that point?’
‘I am beginning to think that I have married a budding psychotherapist!’
‘I’m sorry.’ A crimson tide swept into her cheeks. ‘I tend to get a little carried away when I’m talking about these things.’
‘Do not apologise. Passion and enthusiasm are not things to be ashamed of.’ Reaching for her hand, Fabian stroked his thumb back and forth over her flawless porcelain skin. ‘I like it that you feel things so strongly.’
‘Do you?’ Suddenly still, her steady thoughtful gaze dived deep into his. ‘I thought you believed that feelings aren’t to be trusted?’
An intensely awkward few seconds ensued as Fabian fought hard to keep his treacherous feelings under control. With a self-deprecating grimace, he lifted his coffee cup in the gesture of a toast. ‘You have backed me into a corner, I fear … touché.’
‘Well …’ Her hand shook a little as Laura swept her fingers through her hair, and he saw that she was embarrassed as well as a little upset.
He silently abhorred his inability to make the kind of real connection he secretly craved with her. Then, in the next second, he told himself he would get over it. His reactions were all at sea because for the first time in months he was starting to relax, as he was here in his favourite city with the pretty, vivacious woman who was going to give him the thing that he desired most … a family. He could surely be forgiven if he didn’t feel quite himself?
‘I can’t believe we flew here in a helicopter all the way from Tuscany!’ she finished.
‘I would never make half the meetings I have on time here in Italy without it,’ Fabian replied, grateful that the tricky moment had passed.
‘It’s such a different way of life you lead, compared to my own back in the UK.’
‘And do you think you will grow to like it?’
‘I hope so.’ Some of the light seemed to go out of her mercurial eyes, and the taut muscles around his stomach clenched hard in concern.
‘You seem doubtful?’
‘It’s going to take some adjusting to, that’s all. My feet feel as if they haven’t touched the ground for quite a while! And now that the dust has started to settle I find myself wondering what a man like you—a man who could probably have anything in the world that he desired—including his pick of beautiful women—sees in a woman like me?’
Her hand was touching her fringe again as she said this, and Fabian frowned. ‘If the scar bothers you so much, I could arrange for you to see a very good plastic surgeon. I do not like it that you feel it diminishes you somehow.’
‘I don’t.’ She flushed. ‘Not really. I’ve grown to accept my imperfections as time has gone on. In a way, having them has made me stronger … as well as less focused on the more superficial aspects of life. I’m just happy to still have my life after what happened. No … it was you I was thinking of, Fabian. You—with your beautiful house and beautiful things. You move in the kind of circles where these things matter. How will you cope with having a wife who hardly conforms to the standards of beauty your friends and peers might expect?’
‘First of all, it is a problem only in your mind, Laura … not mine! Do you think I care what anybody else thinks? After years spent living with my father I will not be dictated to on how to live my life by anyone! And beautiful things have their place, but I do not attribute such importance to them as you may think. So let us focus on the future we have resolved to make together, and not be so concerned with the opinions of others.’
‘All right. I’ll try.’
‘You have the strength to do anything you put your mind to. I have sensed this many times since I met you.’ ‘I suppose I’m a survivor … that’s why.’ ‘You are indeed a strong woman … I admire that.’ ‘It’s funny … but after Mark I—’ She cut the thought off abruptly, and even though he hated himself for it Fabian was glad.
Sitting in his favourite café on a glorious day with his pretty new wife, and contemplating an enjoyable afternoon’s sightseeing, he perhaps
