‘I mean?—’
‘I know what you mean,’ she insisted, even though Gabri wasn’t too sure himself. ‘I just got worried you’d developed ideas about… being a role model or something.’
‘Pfft,’ was the only way he could react to that statement. ‘I thought I was clear, I’m not good around children.’
‘Yes, but—’ The frustration in her body was obvious – and he was helplessly drawn in by the flickering distress on her features, even though he’d caused it. ‘You keep saying that, Gabri, but the way you act says something else. You have your carefree life and your safe place on the island, but you patched up my leg when I could have done it myself. You listened to me going on about my son and my husband and you looked after me for the week. Those are not the actions of a person escaping responsibility! Telling a kid a heap of stories, coming down to his level – those are not the actions of someone who’s not good with kids. I’m not worried for noth?—’
She cut herself off, some kind of realisation rippling over her features, but she didn’t share what it was.
‘He doesn’t need male role models,’ she finally blurted out. ‘I know it’s tragic that his father’s dead, but he doesn’t know any differently. We’re not a charity case for you to take care of.’
‘That’s not why I spoke to him,’ he insisted immediately.
‘The wedding is Friday and we’re leaving the island on Saturday. You and I might have… had a good time together, but he’s my family – my life. My own heart is a mess anyway, but I don’t want him to have to protect his.’
In the silence after her heavy words, Gabri felt a number of things, each less pleasant than the last. She was right; he’d taken up his sympathy for her loss and turned it into the burden of responsibility – which he admitted to himself was something of a habit. But there wasn’t only sympathy churning in him when he looked at her. There was a wallop of frustration – that he’d met her now, when both of them were too trampled by love, when she’d grown such thick scars over her heart that she’d never return his feelings.
‘Toni,’ was all he managed to reply at first. How odd that her name had sounded like a man’s when those two syllables were treasured on his lips now. ‘You’re his strong, warrior mother, scarred and fierce and incredibly beautif?—’
‘Stop,’ she insisted, her forehead falling to his shoulder. He lifted a hand to the back of her neck, wanting to bury his fingers in her hair, but too considerate of her hairstyle.
‘I just want you to understand that if circumstances were different?—’
She cut him off. ‘They’renotdifferent.’
‘Iknow,’ he said emphatically. ‘Because you’re right. There was a time in my life when I took too much responsibility for too many things and… I had a breakdown.’
Her head came up again. He was wary of what he’d see in her eyes, but too curious not to look. Of course her gaze was clear. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Stress, anxiety, depression,’ he listed casually, ‘causing insomnia, stomach problems and eventually… I ended up in hospital, thinking I was having a heart attack. A “major depressive disturbance”, the doctors called it – or that’s how I would translate it. My wife was terrified – horrified. The last five years have been about ensuring it doesn’t happen again. I’m well aware that I could never be a role model for anyone, least of all your son.’
He let that sink in, stepping back around to the other side of his workbench and pretending he didn’t care about her reaction. Apparently, she was struggling to come up with any words.
‘He’s a nice kid,’ Gabri couldn’t hold in as she remained silent.
‘I know that,’ she snapped in reply. She sighed and her entire body drooped. ‘This makes a lot more sense now. You could have told me earlier.’
‘My pride prevented it,’ he answered in a clipped tone, absently rearranging a twig of eucalyptus in the centrepiece.
She nodded, accepting the flippant answer. ‘I’m sorry it was so difficult… your experience with…’
He looked up sharply. ‘I think you misunderstand. It was my work, not my wife – well, that was not easy either. I had responsibility – too much – for the company.’
‘But that’s not something you love.’
He’d thought at one stage that he loved that company. Perhaps that had been part of the problem.
‘I did love my wife,’ he blurted out. He felt uncomfortable saying that when he’d missed Toni in bed the last two nights.
‘I believe you,’ she responded immediately in a mumble.
‘It wasn’t enough,’ he insisted.
‘It really doesn’t work like that,’ she contradicted him with a huff.
‘No? I thought love was supposed to heal everything. That’s what they say, anyway.’
‘Love doesn’t healanything.’ Her tone was sharp now. ‘You’re so proud you loved your wife – well, there were times I wished Ididn’tstill love my husband!’
