"After we had sex, I actually thought we were going to have a real marriage. Oh, I knew you'd told me that you would keep a mistress, and I even knew that while I was in Devon you likely carried on as a single man."
His silence spoke volumes, and even though I knew he hadn't been faithful during that time, it still hurt to have it confirmed.
"I didn't care," I insisted. "I disliked you immensely and couldn't care less what you were doing those first few months. But then, when we came to Sicily, and we started to get to know one another and grew closer…when you asked if we could give our marriage a real go, I thought you meant that you would forsake other women."
His groan of regret vibrated through me. "Millie—"
"It was silly of me. After all, my parents had a real marriage, yet I knew they had their own lives outside of each other. Their own lovers to amuse them."
A bitterness crawled up my chest, settling heavy on my throat. "The following morning, I came to your study and overheard you on the phone. You were making hotel plans with another woman in Paris—someone named Marguerite."
His body tensed, and he swore roughly. His arms tightened around me as I lay stiffly in the circle of them. The air of comfort and tenderness was well and truly gone.
"Millie…I don't know what to say."
"I'd obviously let romantic notions interfere with common sense. I was nineteen, you see. You were my first lover, so of course I attached unhealthy expectations to our coupling."
"You did nothing wrong, Millie. I…I should've been clearer with you. I should not have let you assume—" he cut off, and my heart sank at his words.
Alessio didn't regret continuing his affairs after we consummated our marriage. He simply regretted not putting my silly ideas of a love match to bed.
Suddenly ill, I rolled over and out of his arms. "I'm quite tired, and we have an early start. Goodnight."
I could feel the heavy cloak of his regret, but he wisely knew that I was not in the frame of mind to receive his empty words of remorse. I felt the heat of his body behind me as he curved hislarge frame against my stiff back. I didn't want to turn around. I couldn't bear to see the look of pity in his eyes.
The next morning, as the helicopter pulled away from the estate, I stared out of the window and memorised the vast landscape. After all, I wasn't sure I would ever return.
Chapter 13
Millie
It was a cruel irony that I'd had a truly wonderful holiday with Alessio—yet at the same time was planning on leaving him.
In Sicily, he was attentive and present, saying and doing everything right. He was trying, that much was clear.
But I could no longer pretend in this marriage anymore. Because soon Alessio would return to old habits where I ceased to exist, only remembered when he needed a hostess or a plus-one. Eventually, he'd grow tired of being in a monogamous marriage. The lure of other women would become too tempting, and he'd fall back into taking a mistress. After all, he wasn't tethered to our vows, and he didn't have the constraints of a guilty conscience that usually held a traditional husband's heart and body accountable.
When we arrived back in London, we spent two days unwinding at our home, repacking bags and wrapping gifts. Alessio also had a work crisis that required his attention.
"I'm sorry. There's no one else who can deal with it. I should get it wrapped up within a day, two max." His eyes were clouded with worry, as if I would throw a fit because his promised two-week holiday was interrupted. It hadn't bothered him before to abandon me over Christmas, so I was confused why it should aggrieve him now.
Truthfully, I was relieved that the pressure was off for a brief moment. The strain of keeping up appearances was starting to get to me because this time, I wouldn't have the barrier of Alessio's relatives to distract me.
My family alternated each year between spending Christmas at our chalet in Verbier with a slightly extended family, and a smaller Christmas with immediate family at home in England. This year we were home with just my parents, my grandparents, and my aunt, uncle and their children.
By the time we arrived at my family's estate on Christmas Eve, his work crisis had been sorted, and his attention was again turned to me and my family. Alessio had not spent much time with my father, so I was a tad worried on how they would get on for an extended period of time. I assumed there was a lot of respect between the two of them, but no love lost.
Yet, there he was in the far corner, laughing and exchanging stories with my dad, grandfather, and uncle. He looked relaxed and happy as he lounged in a high-backed armchair that had been in my family since the war. He still didn't join in with our parlour games but watched on in amusement as I attempted to recreate a scene from a British soap during charades.
On Christmas Day, our family gathered around the tree after breakfast to open presents. We had a rule in our household that only the children received gifts. The adults had participated in a Secret Santa exchange a month prior. I drew my mother's name and gifted her an Aspinal Mayfair mini bag she'd had her eye on. My Uncle James pulled my name and gifted me tickets to a WestEnd show. My grandfather had Alessio, and he received a box of gold-foil-wrapped cigars with his name inscribed on it.
All in all, it had been a good Christmas. But when we retired to my old childhood room on Christmas night, he placed a small velvet box in front of me. Alessio and I had a pact not to get each other any gifts, so the gesture had caught me by surprise. I didn't need any more meaningless trinkets from him, especially since I planned to ask for a separation in the New Year.
My breath caught at the cluster of diamonds that greeted me. There were words engraved inside the curve, so I lifted the ring to read them.
…and beyond.
I stared at the engraved quote, my mind unable to form a coherent thought—because what did it even mean? "Alessio…" I started. "I-I don't—"
