An older man looked up from a newspaper he appeared to be reading, glancing at Valentino over the top of bifocal glasses with a quizzical expression. Peyton, who was buttering toast, appeared startled.
‘Valentino!’ she spluttered, looking from him to her mother then back again.
Adele, with a rather bemused expression, threw her daughter a lifeline. ‘He brought muffins,’ she said cheerily as she gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head in Valentino’s direction, clearly indicating for him to say something.
It hadn’t been in Valentino’s plans to have an audience this morning, but he was glad that he was meeting Peyton’s parents. They were, after all, a big part of her life and, as such, would be a big part of his – hopefully.
‘Blueberry,’ he said, thrusting the bag in Peyton’s direction. ‘Warm. Just out of the oven.’
That news seemed to revive Peyton, whose gaze cut to the bag. ‘I have just eaten a huge omelette.’ She patted her stomach. ‘But I do love blueberry muffins.’
Yes, he knew that because he’d pumped Nat for all her food likes and dislikes.
‘Lovely,’ Adele said, relieving him of the packet and placing it in the centre of the table before gesturing to the empty chair beside Peyton. ‘Take a seat.’
As a well-adjusted Italian male, Valentino had a healthy respect for mothers and wasn’t about to argue with one who would hopefully soon be his mother-in-law. But before he sat he stretched his hand across the table towards the man he assumed was Peyton’s father.
‘Hello, sir. I’m Valentino Lombardi. Pleased to meet you.’
Peyton’s father half stood as he accepted Valentino’s hand in a firm, brief shake. ‘McKenzie’s surgeon? George Eden.’ He looked over his glasses at his wife as he reclaimed his seat,speculation in his gaze also. ‘Didn’t realise you blokes made house calls.’
Adele winked at Valentino and held up the percolator. ‘Coffee?’
‘Valentino would rather eat dirt than drink our heathen colonial coffee,’ Peyton said around a mouthful of muffin. ‘Is that a fair summation?’
‘More than fair,’ he acknowledged with a chuckle, trying not to be distracted by the crumbs on her lips.
It was sexy, watching her eat with such gusto, and Valentino wondered how she’d look eating something gooey, like ice cream. In bed. Naked. Her belly swollen with their baby.
‘Oh, I don’t blame you,’ Adele said. ‘Nicest coffee we ever had was in Italy, wasn’t it, darling? Where are you from exactly?’
They chatted for half an hour about Italy and travelling and McKenzie’s implant. Not that Peyton contributed much. After eating two muffins she dropped her head back against her chair and shut her eyes, letting the morning sunshine warm her skin as she digested.
She didn’t want to encourage Valentino; she didn’t want him too cosy with her family. Just because she’d agreed not to do anything rash, it didn’t mean they were one big happy family.
Despite his assurances of support, Peyton had been burnt before.
It was pleasant conversation but with Valentino charming her parents it was strangely irritating. As good as he was to look at, as amazing as he smelled this morning – like bakery and sunshine – she wished he would just go.
She was still working her head around the rollercoaster of yesterday.
Seeing that album again after not having looked at it for so long. Being sucked straight back into the tumult of that time. The anguish. Tears burning the backs of her eyes and welling over. Breaking down in his arms. And then learning about his own grief and sorrow.
About Daniella. Beautiful Daniella.
It had been a surprise how much it had pinched her heart to hear him talk about his long-ago ex in such hushed, awed tones. She’d clearly been a stunner and Peyton had found herself wondering what the hell he saw inherafter Daniella.
But then what she’d done with their baby had been… unfair. And suddenly Valentino’s playboy reputation made sense. He’d evidently been trying to forget Daniella and what had happened, and who was she to judge how he dealt with his loss?
Just because she’d withdrawn completely didn’t mean it was the right way to cope.
Was there a book of etiquette somewhere that explained how a person was supposed to act when their whole world fell apart?
If there was, she’d not seen it.
His anguished expression as he’d told her everything came back to her now and she understood his vehemence over her pregnancy because she knew intimately how it felt to have a child taken away.
And in that moment, with their hands clasped together over her belly cradling the tiny life growing inside her, Valentino’s heartfelt assurances ringing in her ears, she’d known she couldn’t terminate. Didn’twantto. Even terrified at the prospect of having another premi baby – or worse – she couldn’t do it to this baby she already loved more than life itself.
