Because he needed something to distract him from the images in his head.
Clearing her throat, she complied. ‘I was wondering if…’ She faltered for a beat but forged on. ‘You had any photos of your wife?’
Okay – yup.That’d do it.
Every muscle in Alessandro’s body cinched tight but for a very different reason. He should thank Nat, he supposed. With one sentence she’d yanked him right back from the brink,hacked right through the ominous sexual tension with all the finesse of a rusty machete.
He frowned. ‘What for?’
‘I thought it would be nice for Julian to have a picture of her on his bedside table. Maybe one of them together?’
Alessandro stiffened at the suggestion, an immediate denial rushing to his lips. They’d made real progress this week. He couldn’t bear to see Julian return to the practically mute little boy he’d been in those few days and weeks after Camilla’s death.
His son was moving on; he didn’t want to see him go backwards.
‘I think that would make him unbearably sad again.’
Her gaze became steely and unwavering. ‘His mother died. He’s allowed to be sad.’
That was easy for her to say. Nat hadn’t been there. She didn’t know how hard it had been. ‘It’s too awful to watch.’
‘You can’t protect him from that.’ Her voice brooked no argument. ‘It’s healthy to be sad, to cry, to grieve. You can’t fast-forward this bit by pretending she didn’t exist.’
Alessandro’s head snapped up. ‘I’m not doing that.’
‘There’s not a single photo of her anywhere, Alessandro.’ Her voice gentled but she persisted. ‘You loved her. She was the mother of your child. I know it’s hard for you to have reminders of her around —’
He snorted at the irony, interrupting her. ‘You have no idea.’
She seemed momentarily puzzled at the derision in his voice but ploughed on anyway. ‘He’sfour, Alessandro. You know I’m right. Put aside the father, the husband, for a moment and think like a doctor. Like the good doctor you are. YouknowI’m right. You know this is good grief resolution strategy.’
Alessandro cursed her for insight. ‘And what ifIcan’t look at her?’ he demanded.
How long had it been since he’d looked at Camilla’s face? Conjured her up? He’d been trying so hard to banish the years of baggage that he’d steadfastly refused to imagine her at all.
Of course, he didn’t have to look too far for a reminder. But funnily enough, the physical similarities between Nat and Camilla didn’t strike him any more – hadn’t since that first meeting. They were two different women in so many ways.
Too different to be mistaken as the same one.
‘I’m not suggesting you commission a six-foot mural on one of these godawful walls. Just a photo for Julian’s bedside table. So he knows she existed and she loved him and she’s looking over him.’
Alessandro wished it was that easy. Could he look at that photo every time he entered his son’s room? Could he look at it and not feel the knife twisting a little deeper? He looked at Nat’s earnest face. Hadn’t she been right about everything else? Hadn’t she helped him reach out to his son already?
Of course, he could do it, if it helped his son mourn.
‘There are framed photos.’ He sighed. ‘A few. In one of the boxes.’
It had been his intention to get around to putting them out. In their house in London, photos of her, of them, as a family had been everywhere. But they’d been so hard to look at afterwards. The hypocrisy had been torture. And frankly he’d been enjoying the emotional freedom.
‘Thank you.’ There was no triumph in her voice at his concession. Just relief. ‘This is the right thing to do, Alessandro.’
She stood in his doorway, haloed in certainty and he wished he had half her confidence. God, he was a highly experienced emergency medicine specialist with degrees coming out of his ears and yet he felt so out of his depth. Unlike this woman he’d known for such a short period of time, standing there all perfect and Zen and centred, telling him it was going to be all right.
He wished she’d come nearer. He was so damn tired all he wanted was to put his arms around her, bury his face in her T-shirt, absorb some of that Zen. Maybe feel her hand sifting through his hair.
‘I hope so,’ he murmured, his eyes roaming over her, wanting it to be true as much as he wanted to touch her right now.
Damn it. She needed to leave already before he betrayed this heinous desire. If he hadn’t already. ‘Thanks,’ he murmured as she opened her mouth to say something.
