Despite that, Raf really wasn’t in the mood, and he knew it would show on his face if he wasn’t careful. He closed the door with a grimace.
“I’m heading out,” he lied. He hadn’t been going out at all. Anywhere. Even the office had held little appeal, so Raf had done whatever work he needed from home, and spent the rest of thetime in a state of almost suspended animation, waiting for the next time he’d see Elodie—at the twenty week scan, which was only days away, now.
He had spent the last seven weeks missing her like hell. Hurting. Grieving. Wanting. Knowing he’d done the right thing but aching in every cell of his body to go to her and demand she come back here. That she come home. Whether that was London, or Italy, place didn’t matter. Surely she just belonged near him; the father of her children. She was his to care for—that had been his guiding light since he learned of her pregnancy.
And you are looking after her.By setting her free while ensuring her every practical need was met, he’d done what Elodie needed, even when it had hurt him. He’d sacrificed his own happiness for hers.
“You’ve been quiet,” she said, so he immediately understood what this was. A patented Santoro check up. A casual pop in visit, dispatched by the family, no doubt with the request of reporting her findings as soon as she’d left.
“I’ve been busy,” he lied.
She looked around, as if for evidence of that. Based on past performance, he supposed it was fair to expect to see his living room littered with scotch bottles and proof of having entertained the night before, but this time, there was not a cushion out of place.
Because you’re waiting for her to come back.
Yes. His state of suspended animation had included a constant state of readiness, just in case Elodie decided she wanted to see him. His gut rolled at the very idea. The scan couldn’t come soon enough.
“Too busy to come home?”
The question landed harder than Emme had intended. He closed his eyes against the wave of memories—flying to Italy with Elodie, his villa, the yacht, sundrenched mornings,sensuous lovemaking, waves lapping, the way she was with his family. The contrast of that warmth and pleasure with this barren life was unbearable.
“Yes.”
“Okay, what’s going on,” Emme asked, crossing her arms. “Is it Elodie?”
He ground his teeth. Damn his family and their invasive determination to be in each other’s lives constantly.
“There’s nothing,” he lied. “I’ll come home soon.” Another lie.
She grunted, stalking across the living room to the liquor cabinet and removing a mineral water. “I presume you’ll want something harder?”
He frowned as his eyes landed on the scotch bottle. He hadn’t touched the stuff in a long time. Not since Elodie had told him about the babies. After Marcia, he’d drunk himself into a fog, just like his father had after their mother died. Only he hadn’t been grieving the loss of Marcia, he’d been furious with himself, for his stupidity, furious with her for her deception.
With Elodie, his pain went deeper, took over more of his soul, and yet he didn’t want to numb it with alcohol. He embraced even the pain, the aching, desperate throb of emptiness in his chest, that was a constant reminder of her.
“No. I’m fine. I’m going out soon,” he said, just needing Emme to go. He couldn’t see his family. It made it all too real, made him feel things he didn’t want to feel.
“Suit yourself.” She cracked the top off her mineral water and carried it with her to one of the armchairs, which she curled up into, legs beneath her, like a cat.
He stared at her, bemused. She was clearly not picking up the vibe he was laying down.
“What are you doing in London?”
For a moment, a storm cloud passed her face, then she smiled. “We’re seeing my family.”
Raf wasn’t such a jerk that he couldn’t focus on Emme for a moment, and on the huge revelation of this. “All of them?”
She nodded.
“I’m really happy to hear that.”
“It’s been a long time coming, I guess. I mean, I’ve seen my parents, and my sisters in law, but not all of them together.”
Emme’s family had been far harsher, when the truth about her and Salvatore had come out, and it had been almost impossible for Emme to forgive them.
“You’re ready to move forward?”
“Step by step,” she said with a lift of one shoulder. “The thing is, the timing feels important.”
