‘Helena, Flynn. This is my husband, Roberto, and our son, Casper.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Flynn said, glancing over at Helena. She stood, mesmerised by the child, her lower lip trapped between her teeth. Was she thinking of the child they might have soon? He hoped so. ‘I’m Flynn Ashton, and this is my wife, Helena.’
Breaking her reverie, Helena smiled suddenly and waved at Casper. ‘Hi.’
‘We’ll get out of your way now,’ Roberto said. ‘Everything should be set out. We’d have left already if somebody hadn’t got a little hungry.’ He held up a small bowl with some fresh fruit cut into baby-sized pieces. ‘Come on, Casper. Let’s see what birds we can spot from the terrace today.’
As Roberto and the baby wandered back out again, Gia watched them go. They were a nice family, Flynn thought. Obviously working together to keep everything—childcare and wine-making—running smoothly. He admired that.
He wanted that for himself. He’d discussed it with Thea, of course, although he’d planned to do so in greater detail after the wedding. He didn’t want a wife waiting at home for him, organising parties and social events while sending her children off to boarding school, the way Isabella had done. He wanted a family where every member belonged and felt at home.
Watching Helena in the sunlight, he’d almost been able to picture it—more so even than he’d ever managed with Thea. It was possible, he thought with a smile, that losing his fiancée on his wedding day might turn out to be the best possible thing for his future. Whatever Helena said about their union being temporary, if they wanted, her behaviour said otherwise. If she didn’t intend for it to last, why would she have accosted him in that negligee on their wedding night? No, Helena wanted this to work as much as he did—seeing her staring at the baby only confirmed that for him.
They’d talk, just as he planned. Maybe over lunch. Once she understood what this marriage meant to him, the contract negotiations were bound to go more smoothly. And then they could get on with properly enjoying the honeymoon.
He smiled again at the thought, before realising that Helena had already sat down at the tasting table and Gia was pouring their first wines. He slipped into the seat beside his wife and thought, just for a moment, about taking her hand.
But when he looked across, he saw a frown line marring her forehead and realised that the sunny, happy, teasing Helena he’d admired outside had gone—and he had no idea what had changed.
But he planned to find out.
* * *
Helena barely remembered anything from their tasting, later. She hoped she’d nodded in the right places, and said the right things, but she had no real idea. Flynn hadn’t said anything, so perhaps she’d managed to keep up the show. To pretend that everything was fine and normal. That seeing Casper hadn’t sent her mind spiralling back eight years.
Normally she was better at this—at being around babies and children. But today, with Flynn there beside her, a hopeful look in his eyes...all she’d been able to think about was the baby girl she’d given away.
Eventually, Flynn checked his watch and gave Gia an apologetic smile. ‘This has been absolutely fascinating. Thank you so much for taking the time to show us around, and letting us taste your wonderful wines.’
‘It’s been my pleasure,’ Gia said, beaming.
Roberto and Casper came out to wave them off and Helena tried to ignore the tug that still pulled at her middle, even after all these years. Instead, she plastered on a smile as she waved back then got into the car.
As the driver pulled away from the farmhouse, Helena handed Flynn back his phone, tipped her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. But her mind still filled with babies.
Casper was a beautiful child, she thought, remembering his pudgy fingers clenched around a piece of apple, and his big brown eyes under dark curls. Nothing at all like the girl she’d given away eight long years ago, with her fine, pale baby down on her head and her unfocused blue eyes. There was no reason for him to remind Helena of her own child, except that every baby she saw did.
Probably always would, she’d realised by now.
But the life her daughter lived...she hoped that was like Casper’s. Happy and full of family and laughter in a way it never could have been if Helena had kept her.
She’d done the right thing, however much it hurt. And sometimes that was all she could cling on to.
Squeezing her eyes tighter for a moment, willing away any tears, any signs of weakness, Helena tucked away all those feelings, all the regrets and what-ifs that rose up when she least wanted them, and returned to the present day. To her husband. Blinking a few times, she watched the Tuscan countryside flashing past the car window, all greens and reds and yellows and bright, bright blues.
How could she be sad when the world around her was so beautiful?
Composed again, she twisted in her seat to look at Flynn. He was engrossed in his phone screen so she gave it a few moments before clearing her throat. Still nothing.
‘Where are we going for lunch?’ she asked.
‘Hmm?’ Flynn’s head moved as if he were paying her his full attention, but his gaze remained attached to the screen in front of him. Helena almost laughed, but decided not to encourage him.
Instead, she snatched the phone from his hand again and selected his calendar app. ‘Let’s see...’
Flynn’s fingers closed over the screen, warm against her own hand. ‘I thought you wanted spontaneity and surprises with your romance.’
‘Not when you already planned it. Or your PA did.’
‘It’s a surprise to both of us that way,’ Flynn pointed out.
Helena rolled her eyes. ‘I really don’t think you understand spontaneity.’
‘It doesn’t matter now anyway,’ Flynn said, taking the phone from her and tucking it in his top pocket as the car slowed to a stop. ‘We’re here.’
She’d known she wasn’t getting that phone back.
The driver opened her car door and Helena stepped out into the sunshine again, her head a little heavy from the drive and the wine-tasting. The trattoria they’d arrived at looked almost like someone’s house, with its beautiful window boxes overflowing with flowers and the painted shutters thrown open. Helena spun slowly around to take in the view; nothing but fields and sunshine for miles, and the glint of a village a few miles down the road.
‘You like it?’ Flynn asked. He’d put on his sunglasses and Helena wished she could see his eyes. Surely even he had to admire the romance of a place like this.
‘It’s beautiful.’ This was the sort of place she could imagine living—or at least designing. Nothing quite as grand as the villa they’d borrowed for the wedding, but cosy and homely and filled with good food and red flowers. It wasn’t just beautiful; it was perfect.
‘Then let’s go in.’ Flynn held his hand out to her and, after staring at it for a moment, Helena took it. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, if it was a planned or spontaneous gesture. Either way, his hand felt warm
