Melanie Milburne - The Scandalous Sabbatinis

‘But to get pregnant to some guy you hardly knew—’

‘Don’t preach at me, Luca,’ Bronte said in irritation. ‘I did know him. I thought I knew him well. It just didn’t work out.’

‘Do you still see him?’ he asked. ‘Does he have contact with the child?’

Bronte realised now how many lies it took after you told one to keep the others in place. There was going to be no way out of this other than more and more lies. She hated herself at that moment. It seemed so wrong to lie to him and yet the alternative was too terrifying. Maybe she could work up the courage over time. Maybe there would be a right time to tell him. Maybe they could become friends first and then she could tell him he was Ella’s father. Yeah, right, maybe she was kidding herself. She looked at his brooding frown and inwardly gulped. Yep, she was definitely kidding herself. ‘No,’ she said.

‘What? You mean he doesn’t want contact with his own flesh and blood?’ he asked with an incredulous look.

‘Look, Luca, I’d rather not talk about it,’ she said. ‘If I could just take my phone and—’

‘So how do you manage?’ Luca asked. ‘Does the father contribute financially to the child’s upbringing?’

The child. How impersonal he made it sound, Bronte thought. ‘Her name is Ella,’ she said. ‘And I manage perfectly fine without help from anyone.’

‘How do you work and look after a little child?’ he asked, still frowning darkly.

‘The same way thousands of other working single mums do,’ she said, ‘juggling, compromise and guilt.’

‘So that’s why you live with your mother.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It works out for both of us. She works part-time and I work on her days off so she can mind Ella.’

He continued to look at her with a frown pulling at his forehead. His hands were thrust in his trouser pockets, the sound of his change and keys rattling the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

‘I really should get going,’ Bronte said. ‘Mum stays in the granny flat with Ella. She can’t go to bed back at her house until I get home.’

‘If I hadn’t ended things with you the way I did, do you think you would be in this situation now?’ Luca asked, looking at her intently.

Bronte felt the pull of his magnetic gaze, her heart stumbling like a long-legged horse stepping into a deep pothole. ‘There’s no point in discussing it,’ she said. ‘Life happens. It’s not as planned as we would like to think it is.’

‘Did you plan to get pregnant?’

‘No, that was an accident,’ she said. ‘But it’s not one I regret. Ella’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

Luca took the phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. ‘I guess you will need this,’ he said. ‘She’s very cute by the way. She looks exactly like you.’

Bronte felt a thick lump lodge in her throat. ‘Th… thank you.’ She clutched the phone to her thumping chest, blinking back tears of relief, regret and deep self-loathing.

He stepped closer and cupped her cheek, holding her face so tenderly more tears came to her eyes. ‘Why are you crying, cara ?’ he said softly.

She swallowed and gulped back a sob. ‘It could have been so different…’ She blinked a couple of times but the tears still fell. ‘I wanted it to be so different… but now it’s too late…’

He brought her head against his chest, his fingers splayed in her hair, the deep rumble of his voice as he spoke tearing Bronte’s heart in two. ‘I know, but that is my fault, mio piccolo. I wasn’t ready. I was in a bad place in my life. I wasn’t able to give you what you wanted. But then I wasn’t even able to give myself what I wanted. It was just not our time.’

Bronte stood in the circle of his arms, wishing she could stay there for ever. But after a moment he stepped back from her. His expression was hard to read. He was smiling but it wasn’t a smile that reached anywhere near his eyes. There were shadows there instead, flickering shadows that gave no hint of what he was feeling.

‘I should let you get home to your little girl,’ he said, sliding his hands down her arms to her wrists, holding them loosely with his long fingers.

A pain deep inside her chest made it almost impossible for Bronte to speak. ‘It was… it was nice to see you again, Luca.’

He brought one of her hands up to his mouth, pressing his lips to her bent fingers. ‘I hope one day you will forgive me for how I ended things,’ he said.

‘It’s OK,’ Bronte said. ‘I should have accepted your decision. I think I made a terrible fool of myself. Actually, I know I made a terrible fool of myself. I practically stalked you. I was so desperate to tell you I was…’ She stopped and quickly regrouped. ‘I mean… I was so desperate to know if there was something I had done to upset you. I should have realised our relationship had run its course. You had never offered anything permanent and I was a fool to hope and dream you would. I was caught up in the whole romance of my first real love affair. I was too immature to see it. Perhaps I didn’t want to see it.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up about it, Bronte,’ he said. ‘We have this chance now to see if we can make a better go of it.’

Bronte felt her heart give a flutter like a startled pigeon. ‘Y-you want to… I mean you still want to… I can’t, Luca. I can’t see you. I told you that.’

His jaw took on an uncompromising set. ‘You told me yourself there is no one else in your life. What’s to stop us revisiting our relationship if it’s what we both want?’

‘It’s what you want,’ she said. ‘It’s not what I want at all.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ he said, tightening his hold on her wrists as she tried to get away. ‘The way you kissed me earlier told me how much you still want me.’

‘You made me kiss you,’ she argued.

‘Don’t split hairs, Bronte,’ he said. ‘We were kissing each other. We want each other just as much as we ever did.’

‘I can’t have a casual affair with you,’ she said. ‘I have responsibilities now. I haven’t got room in my life for you.’

‘Make room,’ he said and, tugging her close, brought his mouth down on hers.

‘GOSH, you look like you didn’t get any sleep at all last night,’ Rachel said as Bronte came into the studio the next day. ‘Was it your hot date or your darling daughter who kept you up all hours?’

Bronte gave her a don’t-speak-to-me-about-it look.

‘Come on, Bronte,’ Rachel pleaded. ‘You didn’t even return any of my texts. What happened? Did you tell him about Ella?’

Bronte blew out a sigh. ‘No, I didn’t get around to it.’

Rachel’s brows went up. ‘What did you get around to?’ She leaned closer and peered at Bronte’s chin. ‘Hey, is that what I think it is?’

Bronte put her hand up to the reddened patch on her chin where Luca’s evening stubble had left its mark. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said.

Rachel folded her arms in a you-can’t-fool-me pose. ‘Beard rash only happens when you get up close and personal,’ she said. ‘So the spark is still there, huh?’

Bronte pulled her hair back into a high ponytail, all the while trying to avoid her friend’s eyes. She felt so conflicted about last night. That final kiss had burned her like fire. The stubble rash on her chin was nothing to what she felt inside. She was still smouldering with want, a hot needy craving for more of Luca’s touch. He had ended the kiss and sent her on her way, only after he had extracted a promise to meet him for dinner this evening. She had practically stumbled back to her car, her emotions on a roller coaster ride as she thought of the danger she was dancing with.