over her.
Today wasn’t about that. Wasn’t about her. Her mother had been right, even if only accidentally. During the winding journey from Monta Correnti to Lake Adrina, she’d thought hard about her mother’s words. For as long as she’d been able to remember, even before she got pregnant with Kate, everything had been about her. Being a middle child, she’d felt she had to fight for every bit of attention, had learned to be territorial about absolutely everything, even though Lizzie and Scarlett hadn’t been treated as favourites in any way.
And she’d never let go of that need to be the hub of everything, of needing the adulation, position…supremacy.
Until she’d rediscovered her lost daughter, she hadn’t realised she’d had any of those sacrificial maternal feelings, hadn’t let herself remember what she’d buried deep inside. She hadn’t ever let herself feel those things, not even when she’d been carrying Kate. It had been easier to bear the idea of giving a piece of herself up if she imagined it to be nothing but a blob—a thing—not even a human being. Of course, all that clever thinking had fallen apart the moment Kate had come silently into the world, in the long moments when Jackie had been helpless on an operating table with doctors and midwives hurrying around and issuing coded instructions to each other. She’d felt as if her heart had stopped, but the monitor attached to her finger had called her a liar.
When Kate had finally let out a disgruntled wail, Jackie had begun to weep with relief, and then with loss. She hadn’t had the right to care about this baby that way. She’d decided to give that right away to someone else, someone who would do a better job.
And somebody else had done a better job. She didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse. Whichever way she’d thought about it, it hurt.
She’d caused all of it. All of this mess.
The boat hit the jetty and jolted her out of her dark thoughts. She grimaced to herself. So much for today not being all about her. She’d spent the ten-minute ride to the island submerged in self-pity.
Today is not the day, she told herself. You can do it tomorrow. You’ll tell Romano and then you’ll have plenty of reasons to feel sorry for yourself—and for him.
The wedding breakfast was held in the palazzo’s grand ballroom—the late count’s pride and joy. ‘Ostentatious’ didn’t begin to do it justice. There was gold leaf everywhere, ornate plasterwork on every available surface and long mirrors inserted into the panels on the walls at regular intervals. Totally over-the-top for casual dining, but perfect for an elegant wedding. Perfect for Lizzie’s wedding. And she looked so happy, sitting there with her Jack, alternately rubbing her rounded belly through the flowing dress and fiddling with the new gold ring on her left hand as she stared into his eyes.
Jackie tried to keep her mind on the celebrations, but all through the afternoon she would catch glimpses of Romano—talking to some other guests with a flute of champagne in one hand, or walking purposefully in the shadows, checking details—and it would railroad all her good intentions.
Perhaps it would be better if she just got it over and done with, went and sought him out. Then she wouldn’t be seeing him everywhere, smelling his woody aftershave, listening for his laugh. Every time her brain came up with a false-positive—when she’d thought she’d detected him, but hadn’t—her stomach rolled in protest. It brought back memories of morning sickness, this uncontrollable reaction her body was having. She pushed the heavy dessert in front of her away.
In the absence of dry crackers and tap water, what she really needed was some fresh air. She needed time on her own when she wasn’t expected to chit-chat and smile and nod. At the very least she owed it to her cheek muscles to give them a rest.
The meal was over, coffee had been served and the cake had been cut. Jack and Lizzie were making a round of the room, talking to the guests. No one would notice if she slipped out for a few moments. If anyone missed her, they’d just assume she’d gone to powder her nose.
But escape was harder than she’d anticipated. She was only a few steps from the double doors that led onto the large patio when her mother swept past, hooked her by the crook of her arm and steered her towards a huddle of people.
‘Rafe?’ her mother said.
Rafael Puccini looked very distinguished with his silver-grey hair, dressed in an immaculate charcoal suit. Even though he must be a few years over sixty, he still had that legendary ‘something’ about him that made women flock to him. He turned and smiled as her mother herded her into their group, and she couldn’t help but smile back.
‘Jackie asked me a while ago about those sunglasses of yours…you know the ones.’ Her mother waved a hand and tried to give the impression she didn’t give a jot about the subject of their conversation.
Jackie didn’t react. Everyone knew that her mother had been Rafe Puccini’s muse back in the Sixties. His Lovely Lisa range of sunglasses were modern classics, and were still the best-selling design in the current range.
What had surprised her was her mother’s sudden mention of the glasses. She’d asked her—oh, months ago—about finding some vintage pairs for a feature for Gloss! Normally most of what she said to Mamma tended to go in one ear and out the other. If anything was retained, it usually had a wholly ‘Mamma’ slant to it, and was often completely inaccurate.
Rafe took her mother’s hand and kissed it. ‘Certainly I know which glasses you mean. How could I forget something inspired by those sparkling eyes?’
If Kate had been here, she’d have made gagging noises. Jackie wasn’t actually that far from it herself. She’d met Romano’s father many times before, of course, and had often seen him in full flirt mode, but never with her own mother. Lisa wagged a disciplinary finger at her old paramour, smiling all the while.
Well, she’d been fishing for a compliment and she’d hooked a good one. Why wouldn’t she be pleased?
Just as Jackie broached the possibility of buying or borrowing some of the vintage sunglasses, Romano materialised for real.
Fabulous. The last thing she needed was her eagle-eyed mother picking up on a stray bit of body language and working out there was some sort of undercurrent between her and Romano. Mamma was very good at that. That was why Jackie had such excellent posture. Being able to snap to attention, give nothing away, had been her best survival mechanism as a teenager. As for today, she was just going to have to extricate herself from this cosy little group and try and catch up with him on his own later.
That plan was also a little tricky to execute. Rafe and her mother greeted Romano and drew him into the conversation. Jackie had no choice but to stand and smile and hope against hope that Lizzie would send for her to fulfil some last-minute bridesmaid’s duty.
As the discussion turned towards hot new designers to watch, Jackie’s attention moved from the outrageous flirting on the part of the older generation to the interaction between father and son. She’d never thought of Romano as being particularly family-oriented. He didn’t have those heavy apron strings most Italians had to tie them to their families. But there was a clear bond between him and his father these days. Quick banter flowed easily between them, but it never descended into insults or coarseness. They both had the same mercurial thought patterns, the same sense of humour.
Jackie became suddenly very conscious of the lack of even polite conversation between her and her mother. They didn’t know how to relate to each other without all their defences up, and the realisation made her very sad.
If
