flight arrived this morning.”
“You have a hotel?”
And if she didn’t? There was always his place. His thoughts ventured into dangerous territory.
Not happening, Luca.
He carried the pot with its water and coffee to the desk and set it down before retrieving two cups off the sideboard.
“Yes, I stopped at the hotel first, before coming here.”
He poured the coffees and reached into the small fridge beside his desk, hiding his disappointment by concentrating on the mundane task before him. She’d always taken her coffee like he did, with a splash of milk. He added some to both, stirring a time or two before pushing one across toward her.
He studied her face. It was pale and drawn, her cheekbones a little more pronounced than they’d been a year earlier. “So what brings you to Italy?”
There was a marked hesitation before she answered. “You, actually. I need to tell you something.”
That jolt he’d experienced earlier turned into an earthquake, pushing all other thoughts from his head except for the one staring him in the face.
“You do?”
“Yes.” Elyse slowly turned the baby to face him. “This is Annalisa.” Her eyes closed, and her throat moved a time or two before she went on. “She’s your—she’s our daughter, Luca.”
* * *
A hundred emotions marched across that gorgeous face over the course of the next few seconds, ranging from confusion to shock before finally settling on anger. His hands came together, fingers twining tightly, the knuckles going white. “My what?”
The words were dangerously soft.
He’d heard what she’d said. He just didn’t believe it. And Elyse wondered for the thousandth time if it wouldn’t have been better just to leave well enough alone. To raise Anna on her own and let Luca stay in the dark about his part in her existence. But she owned it to Annalisa and, if she was honest, to Luca himself, to own up to the circumstances behind their daughter’s birth. If he rejected her claim outright, then at least she’d tried.
She probably should have tracked him down during her pregnancy, but it had been a difficult time. She’d been so caught up in grief over his leaving that she hadn’t realized she was pregnant until she’d missed her third period. A test had revealed the worst. And she knew exactly when it had happened. That day in her office. The day he’d left the States forever.
She had been going to call and tell him, but each time she’d picked up the phone, she’d gotten cold feet, afraid that hearing his voice would undo any tiny bits of healing that had taken place. She’d kept telling herself she’d do it tomorrow. Except a month of tomorrows had gone by, and then things had suddenly started to go wrong with her pregnancy. She’d been placed on bed rest. Her parents had come to the house to help her. Her mom had been a trouper, despite her own medical issues.
Elyse wasn’t even sure the baby would survive at that point, so she’d elected to keep the news to herself in case the worse happened.
And now she couldn’t...would never be able to...
Annalisa was the only chance she would ever have to do this right. She swallowed back her fear.
“It’s true, Luca. She’s yours. I thought you should know.” She settled the baby against her shoulder once again.
He swore. At least she thought it was a swear word, from his tone of voice.
God, she’d been right. He didn’t want Anna.
She’d been wrong to come. Wrong to tell him.
“You kept this from me? All this time? You come waltzing into my office with Lorenzo, who is holding a baby that I think is his niece?” He drew an audible breath. “Only he hands the baby to you. And now you tell me she’s mine?”
Her chin went up in confusion. “It isn’t like it was easy. You left, and you had no intention of coming back, isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“And didn’t you insist more than once that you didn’t want children?”
That had him sitting back in his chair, his eyes going to Anna. “I did, but that was—”
“I didn’t think you’d even want to know.”
“You didn’t think I’d... Mio Dio. Well, you were wrong. And my statement about kids, if I remember right, included the phrase ‘not right now.’ The word ‘never’ was not mentioned. Ever.”
How was she supposed to know that? There were men who would be just as happy to never father a child and who wouldn’t want to know even if they did.
But as she’d taken that choice away from him, he had every right to be angry with her.
“I’m sorry. Things were tenuous at the time.” She didn’t go into the particulars of the precarious pregnancy or the fact that she would never give birth to another child. Anna might be his concern, but the other stuff? Not so much, since they were no longer a couple.
And that fact hurt more than it should have, especially after all this time.
“Tenuous.” His brows drew together. “Tenuous? You let a colleague of mine hold my child before I get a chance to, and that’s all you can say?”
Yep, she was right. He was mad. Livid, even, and she couldn’t blame him. She held Anna close against the tirade.
He noticed it, and his eyes closed. “Dammit, I’m sorry.”
The sudden ache in her chest made her reach out and touch the edge of his desk with fingers that trembled.
“No, I’m sorry, Luca. It just never seemed like the right time and I couldn’t... I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.” She didn’t want to admit how afraid she’d been to hear his voice. And after Annalisa’s birth she’d had a recovery period that most new mothers didn’t have to worry about. It had delayed any travel plans she might have made. So here they were. In the present.
“When?”
She withdrew her hand. What was he asking? When Anna was born? When she was conceived? That was the kicker. They’d had sex in the aftermath of the announced downsizing, when there had been anger on both sides. Their coming together had been volatile and passionate. But the erotic coupling had solved nothing and only after her missed periods had she remembered that they hadn’t used protection.
In the end, the layoffs that she’d hoped would save their relationship—by removing the work dynamics that had bothered her so much—had done the opposite. She hadn’t wanted anyone to think she played favorites, and Luca had never asked for special treatment.
But memories of a former boyfriend’s behavior had loitered in the background, ready to pounce, warning her of what had happened in the past. Of what could happen again if she weren’t
