sister’s wedding.
‘I just miss her…’ Frank was staring at a photo of her mother and Emma just didn’t get it—growing up, it had been practically forbidden to talk about her, and now it was practically all he talked about! Going over the past as if it had happened just yesterday, and it actually hurt to hear it. ‘I just want my Gloria. Why did she have to leave us?’
‘Dad, she didn’t want to…’
‘Off with that scum of a man…calling himself an artist! How could she walk out on her family?’ Emma felt the blood in her veins turn to ice.
‘She didn’t walk out on us, Dad, she was killed in a car accident.’
‘Out on the town with her fancy man, leaving her little girl crying at home,’ Frank sobbed, and the night nurse came in then.
‘We’re going to give him his sleeping tablet now, Emma, and settle him down.’
‘How could she walk out on four kids?’
How she wanted to press him for answers, to bombard him with questions, but the nurse was giving him his medicine, trying to settle him down, and he was just too frail and too confused to push it right then.
‘Rory!’ She didn’t care if it was late, or that she was driving, she punched in his name and waited for him to pick up, not bothering to introduce herself, just blurting out her question. ‘Did Mum walk out on us?’
‘Emma?’
‘Just tell me what happened.’
‘You know what happened,’ Rory sighed. ‘There was a car accident.’
‘Who was driving?’
Emma knew he was holding back, could tell by the uncomfortable pause before Rory next spoke.
‘What’s Dad saying now?’
‘That she walked out on us.’
There was a very long silence and then came a truth she had never prepared for. ‘Mum left us a month before she died.’ As he heard her start to sob, Rory showed rare concern for his sister. ‘Look, pull over, you shouldn’t be driving…’
‘She just left us!’
‘She wanted to “find herself”, do her damned art, see this new guy. Look, it was twenty years ago! I don’t see what you’re getting so worked up about,’ Rory attempted. ‘It doesn’t change anything.’
Oh, but it did.
She clicked off the phone and threw it onto the passenger seat.
It changed everything.
She shouldn’t be driving in this state…so she forced herself to concentrate, forced herself to be calm until she pulled up to her family home—the for-sale sign on the door, the home, the family her mother had walked out on—and only then did she see him. His car was there, waiting for her, and Luca climbed out of the back seat and walked towards her. His face was grey, and in the streetlight she could see the tiny lines around his eyes, the dark, weary shadows beneath them.
She could smell the whisky on his breath and hear the dread in his words, and it matched her soul.
‘Come with me tomorrow.’ He didn’t touch her, he didn’t make any demands, he didn’t even ask, he just matched her need.
‘Yes.’
He blinked just a touch at the ease of her answer, a smile spreading over his face, relief creeping in, because now he could stomach it, now he could face it.
‘What took you so long?’ Luca asked.
Her mother had left them…
This idol she had looked up to, the perfect woman, gone too soon, had feet of clay after all—and she was angry, but boy it felt good to contemplate living instead of mourning, to let go of the past and dive into the future.
And there it was—if only she had the nerve to reach out and take it.
‘I’ve never slept with anyone before.’ She watched his reaction, saw his eyes widen, and thought it was almost fear that darted across his features. ‘Don’t worry, Luca,’ she said before he could respond, ‘I haven’t been waiting for Mr Right to come along and relieve me of my virginity.’
‘Emma!’ He hadn’t bargained on this. Not once, not for a second had he considered this. He wanted relief, distraction, and instead this was responsibility, but Emma just laughed and kissed his cheek. She was in a strange, slightly manic mood he didn’t understand, but it was actually a little bit catching. ‘You know I’m not looking for serious…’
‘I know the rules, Luca.’ Emma’s voice was steady. ‘And I’m prepared to play by them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a weekend away to pack for.’
As his private jet lifted into the early morning sky, all Emma wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep.
The night had been spent packing and planning and then dreading, and finally weeping.
Weeping for a woman she didn’t know at all, for a father she had always resented but was maybe, just maybe starting to understand.
She was resilient, though, she had always had to be, so she hid her swollen eyes behind huge sunglasses and pleaded another headache when Luca commented on them. She had, after a night of weeping, pushed away yesterday’s news and was in a bizarre way actually glad to be getting away for a few days and leaving it all behind her.
They were served a sumptuous breakfast, pastries, waffles, meats and the thick treacly coffee Luca sur vived on, but Emma wasn’t hungry and Luca watched her push her food around her plate and frowned over his newspaper.
There was something different about her. Oh, she was chatty and polite, only there was a vague distraction about her, a restlessness almost, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Her acceptance yesterday had floored him.
He had engineered this weekend—had been hoping the mutual attraction between them would be quickly sated, that she would be the solace that would get him through the difficult time ahead.
He had been dreading the wedding for months now—back to the family home, back to his father and uncles. Emma was to have been his relief.
But not now, and he had only himself to blame.
Breaking hearts he could deal with.
But breaking hers…he was having serious second thoughts about that.
He saw that she wasn’t eating her food and, remembering her beverage of choice when she was flagging, ordered his crew to fetch it for her. Then he sat and watched closely as she took a grateful sip of thick hot chocolate.
‘You have brothers, yes?’ Luca checked, watching a small furrow emerge on her brow.
‘Three,’ she acknowledged briefly.
