I sit in one of the chairs and load one of the small plates for myself and wait for Luke to join me, which he does a minute or so later. When he’s had a sip of coffee and a couple of bites of cake, I say, ‘I’m sorry about last night. About what I said.’ While I don’t remember the exact words, I know I can get spiky when I feel dismissed or overlooked. ‘I do understand that you’re worried about Cassie and the baby.’
He looks a bit taken aback. ‘Thanks. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said you were being defensive and unreasonable.’
I sigh. ‘I probablywasbeing defensive, but I don’t think I was being completely unreasonable. We’ve saved for this trip for almost a year, and it was meant to be a romantic getaway.’
‘Wanting to book flights for today was possibly jumping the gun a bit.’
‘Possibly?’ I say with a twinkle in my eye.
‘Possibly,’ he confirms, a matching glint in his own.
‘Look … ’ I take a deep breath, knowing what I’m going to say next is stretching me to my very limit. ‘Let’s talk to your mum in a minute, get an update on Cassie and the baby, and we’ll go from there, but—’
As if summoned, Luke’s phone begins to ring. He answers it and stands so he can pace back and forth while he talks. I can tell it’s his mum. I get the gist of the conversation just from listening to his end, but I can also fill in the gaps from my previous knowledge. However, I let Luke end the call and listen patiently as he explains to me that Cassie has had a gorgeous little girland both mother and baby are doing fine, no issues at all, despite Edie surprising us all with her early arrival.
‘Do you still want to go home?’ I ask him. ‘Because if you really want to, we’ll do it, but I think we could also maybe FaceTime Cassie sometime today if she’s up to it, and we’ll be seeing our new niece within forty-eight hours anyway. But you can phone, text, whatever – as much as you need to – until that happens.’
Luke puts his phone down, comes over to my chair, takes me by the hands and pulls me up and hugs me. ‘Thank you,’ he whispers into my ear. ‘Thank you for … I don’t know. Just thank you. And you’re right – we don’t have to change our flights.’ He reaches up and brushes my hair back from my face and then keeps his palms on the side of my face. ‘I want to have that romantic getaway we planned.’
After a glass of Prosecco on the hotel terrace, feeling like movie stars as other tourists take pictures of the beautiful palazzo behind us from water taxis and tour boats, Luke and I head out on the twenty-minute walk to the restaurant we’ve booked for dinner. I can’t wait.
It’s been the most amazing day. After a lazy breakfast we made love and then spent the rest of the day visiting some of the famous sites: St Mark’s Square, the Doge’s Palace. We even climbed to the top of the Campanile di San Marco. The whole city was laid out before us, a higgledy-piggledy sea of terracotta roof tiles, grey-white stone, and church towers.
It’s beensomuch better than last time. We did most of thesame things, but instead of barely talking, we’ve walked hand-
in-hand, stopping to kiss now and then like honeymooners. I felt so hurt last time. I tried to get past it, I really did, but it seemed impossible.
How strange that, while not easy, it was completely doable this time around. I’m actually feeling quite proud of myself. I haven’t even minded that Luke’s phone has been going off at regular intervals, and he had a long call with his mum while I had a siesta before our evening drinks.
‘Do you have any baby pics yet?’ I ask him, as we cross the Ponte dell’Accademia and pause to look at the lavender glow of the sky as the Grand Canal widens out into the lagoon just beyond a vast domed basilica whose name I can’t remember.
‘Not yet. Mum says she’s going to send some later.’
‘I can’t wait,’ I say. I want to see all the gorgeous wrinkliness and tiny fingers and toes.
‘Do you think … ?’
I turn away from the sunset to look at him. ‘Do I think what?’
‘No, doesn’t matter.’
Dinner is as delicious as I hoped it would be. We start with a local speciality of sautéed onions with raisins, herbs and anchovies, and then sea bass, before beef fillet. Each course is punctuated with a palate cleanser or an amuse-bouche of some kind. By the time I get my tiramisu I’m already full. Luke manages to clear his plate and, after answering yet another text from either his mum or his sister, declares he needs to use the bathroom and heads off towards the back of the restaurant.
He’s only seven steps away when his phone, which is lying on the pristine linen tablecloth, buzzes again. I lean over to take a look, just in case it’s the promised baby pics.
I’m lonely, the message reads.
I frown. That’s a weird thing for Luke’s mum to say – she’s always surrounded by family, and today probably more than ever. And I can’t imagine Cassie saying something like that either, after just having given birth to a bouncing bundle of joy. But then I look again, and I realize it’s not from either of them.
It’s from Elena.
Why is she messaging Luke when he’s on holiday? And even if she did, surely it should be something to do with marble countertops or whether they can get the electricians to wire those wall lights in.
And then another message appears on the thread:I wish you were here. I could really do with a hug x
My stomach turns to ice.What?
I snatch Luke’s phone up and stare at the message on the screen for a good five seconds, before swiping upwards, scrolling further back through the text chain.
