Melanie Milburne - The Scandalous Sabbatinis

She turned her gaze to the grumbling clouds. ‘I was running late. Ella was a bit unsettled. I wasn’t sure I’d find a parking spot.’

Luca waited until they had resumed walking before he asked, ‘Is that why you’re so tense this evening? Are you worried about being away from her?’

‘It’s hard not to worry at times,’ she said, not looking his way, nor at the view but at the ground at her feet. ‘It’s part of being a parent. You never stop worrying from the moment they are born.’

‘I guess you’re right,’ Luca said. ‘My brothers and I are all in our thirties but my mother is always worrying about something or other to do with one or all of us. Mind you, I think there have been times when she has had good cause to be worried. The three of us have had our fair share of mishaps, and then, of course, there was the death of our sister when she was a baby that really did the damage.’

Bronte stopped in her tracks and looked up at him in shock. ‘You never told me you had a sister.’

He gave a shrug. ‘It was a long time ago. I hardly even remember her, or only vaguely. She died when I was three and Nic was eighteen months old. He doesn’t remember her at all. Giorgio remembers her the most clearly. He was six at the time. It really affected him. He won’t talk about it, even after all these years.’

‘What happened?’ Bronte asked.

‘Sudden Infant Death Syndrome,’ he said. ‘Or cot death, as it was called back then. My parents went through a terrible time, my mother especially. There wasn’t the knowledge about the cause of it then. My mother felt everyone blamed her. The truth is, she blamed herself. The police who came to the villa after Chiara died didn’t help matters. It was a long time before my mother got over it, although, at times, I wonder if she really ever did get over it. She’s completely obsessed about having grandchildren, my grandfather too, especially after my father died. It’s made things extremely difficult for Giorgio and his wife. I am sure it’s one of the reasons they have separated. Maya couldn’t take the pressure of not being able to conceive.’

Bronte felt a hammer blow of guilt assail her. She even stumbled slightly, as if the blow was physical. Luca’s hand tightened on hers as he steadied her, his brow creasing as he looked down at her.

‘Careful,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to break an ankle on our first date.’

She gave him a strained smile and continued walking. ‘I’m sorry about your family’s loss,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m sorry too about your brother and his wife. It must be a very difficult time for both of them.’

‘It is,’ Luca said. ‘As much as I’d like to knock both their heads together at what they are throwing away, I’ve had to stay out of it. Giorgio can be very stubborn and once his mind is made up, that’s it. He’s too proud for his own good. But then, who I am to criticize?’

Bronte mulled over that while he led her into the restaurant. It was a while before they were alone again. The waiter brought drinks and discussed the menu and the day’s specials and then reappeared with warmed olives and freshly baked bread and a tiny dish of extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar, before discreetly moving away to leave them in their intimate corner.

Luca raised his glass to Bronte. ‘Here’s to new beginnings.’

Bronte’s hand shook as she touched her glass against his. ‘To… to new beginnings.’

The silence fell like a thick suffocating blanket.

Bronte could barely breathe as each second passed. The restaurant noise of dishes and cutlery and glassware faded and her ears filled with a roaring sound of impending doom. Outside, a loud crack of thunder sounded, making her flinch and almost spill her glass of wine.

‘Hey.’ Luca took her free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Are you OK? Is the storm bothering you? Are you frightened of them?’

Bronte shook her head. ‘No, not really.’

He studied her for a moment. ‘You seem really on edge, cara. You don’t need to be. Just relax. We’re just two friends having dinner, remember? I’m not going to put the hard word on you at the end of the evening. We can take things as they go. No pressure, OK?’

Bronte felt sick with nerves. There was no easy way to say what she had to say. She had only made things worse by leaving it this late. She should have told him as soon as he saw the photos of Ella. Why had she made it so hard for herself by dragging it out so torturously? She took a large sip of wine to garner her flagging courage. The crisp dry wine moistened her dry throat but the shot of alcohol did nothing to settle her frazzled and frayed nerves. ‘Luca,’ she began, ‘I have something to tell you.’

‘Don’t say you don’t want to see me again,’ he said before she could continue. ‘We both know that is not the case. I know I stuffed things up before but I want to make it up to you. I think we have something special, Bronte. I think it could work if we just give it a try.’

Bronte toyed with the stem of her wine glass. ‘Are you saying you… you have feelings for me?’

His small smile was enigmatic. ‘You wouldn’t be sitting here with me now if I didn’t feel something. As to exactly what it is, well, isn’t it a bit early to be talking about that?’

She ran her finger around the base of her glass this time, her eyes falling away from his. ‘I’m not sure how to tell you this, Luca. I never thought I would be in this situation.’ Her heart felt as if it was weighted. It ached with a bittersweet pain that made her want to break down and cry for how unfair life was. She had longed for him to give her some clue of his feelings in the past and yet, now he had, she was about to destroy them, she was sure.

She looked up and met his gaze across the table. ‘When you left me in London I was devastated. I know you never promised me anything. I know I was much more in love with you than you were ever going to be with me. You never said what you felt. I know a lot of men are like that. Most of my friends experienced the same frustration of never knowing what the man they were dating felt about them. To be frank, sometimes I thought you didn’t even like me, that you were just there for the sex. You seemed to give me so many mixed signals. We were all set for a date and then you would suddenly cancel half an hour before. And then you were grumpy and difficult one day and yet charming and attentive the next. I never knew where I stood with you, but I tried to be patient because I loved you so much.’

Luca reached for her hand again, lacing his fingers with hers. ‘Back then, I wasn’t in the position to offer you the sort of commitment you wanted, Bronte. I know that’s not much of an explanation but I’d rather not go into the reasons why I acted the way I did. It’s not relevant to here and now. All that matters is we are together again and both committed to working at what we had before. We’ve been given a second chance. Let’s not blow it. Let’s work on getting to know who we each are now, not who we were back then.’

Bronte looked down at their joined hands and let a few more seconds thrum pass. It was like waiting for a bomb to go off, watching the timer countdown second by agonising second and being able to do nothing to stop it. She knew once she said the words nothing would ever be the same. She slowly raised her eyes to his, her aching throat going up and down over a convulsive swallow.

‘Bronte!’ A female voice spoke from behind her in the restaurant.

Bronte pulled her hand out of Luca’s and turned in her seat as one of the young mothers from the studio approached the table, her husband in tow. It took Bronte a moment to gather herself and she worried that her smile might not have seemed wholly genuine. ‘Hi, Judy… hi, Dan.’