Page 216 of Falling for the Wife

One would easily assume, I supposed. “Fortunately, no. It was Kimberly’s idea. I hadn’t had a clue until she introduced me to him.”

“She seems like a decent woman,” he quietly observed, a fact my mother had failed to acknowledge.

“She is. She truly is.”

“I heard her brother is about to undergo a procedure soon. I was hoping all parties could bury the hatchet and start anew. I know it’s a daunting thought—what your mother did was unforgivable—but I do believe she immensely regrets what she did. I’m confident she’ll do everything in her power to gain your love and trust again.”

“That’s quite wishful thinking, Papa.”

Burying the hatchet with my mother? Ha. She was never going to change. What she had done to me, to my family, was a bloody fuckery to everything she and I’d once had. It was beyond disrespect. She had undermined my life, subverted something dear to me for her own selfish gain. She didn’t deserve forgiveness, let alone anything closely resembling mercy.

“She had been the culprit of how many gossips and broken marriages? How many families and friendships has she ruined throughout the years? I can’t even comprehend how many of them because I fucking lost count. She’s an embarrassment—”

“Luca, if time is what you need, then so be it. But if you’re expecting me to leave Felicia, divorce her as you have implied before, I cannot do that. Not only am I getting old, but the drama and attention that would garner would surely rush me to my own grave. Don’t mistake my avoidance as weakness. A man can choose his battles, and this one is purely something I choose not to partake in. You may not understand this, but I have my reasons.”

There was no point beating a dead horse. Their marriage was nonexistent, but he apparently was content with it. Very well, then.

“If you’re unequivocal about your decision, then I shall not speak of it any longer.”

He made an earnest nod before slowly getting to his feet, as if readying to leave since I had ended the discussion.

“Do you want to see Gian Luca?” I asked, taking myself by surprise.

My father beamed at me, as if it pleased him that I was reaching out an olive branch. “Would you mind if I take a rain check on that? I don’t feel worthy of meeting him just yet, and when that time comes, I would love to meet the mother you’ve hopelessly fallen in love with … if you guys will still welcome this old man, of course.”

Meeting him halfway, I was suffocated by such overwhelming emotions that I simply gave him a hug. Not the quick unaffected one, but the kind where I showed just how much I loved him. Although we were in a rough patch, I appreciated his efforts of trying to mend things for me. He wasn’t like me—impulsive, irrational, and beyond adventurous to a fault—and I supposed, in some ways, I was glad he wasn’t. It showed me that being a father to a son needed a hefty deal of patience and understanding. Above all, it required loving them even though one didn’t necessarily approve of their actions or how they handled adversity.

When he hugged me back with the same intensity, I knew he was proud of me, and that meant the world to me.

“You’re welcome to visit any time, Papa.”

Cinque

“My father came,” I announced the moment Kimberly walked inside the library, looking for me, a cue she had already fed and put the baby to sleep. It was her turn to unwind and spend some quality time with me. This time was usually spent with me watching her eat in the kitchen while we talked about whatever subject we could get into.

To some, it might have seemed as though I was now leading a boring life. On the contrary, I loved every moment of it. It was a great way for us to reconnect and get to know each other once again.

“When?” she asked mid-stride. Her hair was tousled, and she wore a long, simple, soft-blue cotton gown. She made exhaustion look good.

My arms were wide open, and she went straight into them. There were times during the day when we would simple hug each other, no words needed. It was a simple gesture of encouragement, support, love, and affection.

After slowly breathing her in, I kissed the side of her neck before murmuring the answer to her question. “Just now. He just left.”

“Oh, my. You should’ve said something. I could’ve come downstairs to greet him. I hope he thinks I have more manners than that.” She was kind and an overall good person, so her comment didn’t surprise me.

“Trust me, amore; after what’s happened, the last thing my father thinks is that you don’t have manners.”

She seemed unconvinced. “Whether he has animosity towards me or not, I’m not one to be disrespectful.”

My father would not dare think of such a ridiculous notion. Not after the damage this all had caused.

“You were the one disrespected beyond measure by his wife.”

She made a small nod before searching for my eyes, a tad hesitant. “Did he…? Did he not want to meet his grandson?”

There was no need to be insecure. She must know that. Whether my father liked her or not should not have been something she should be bothered with. However, I understood her. Every woman wanted approval in one way or the other.

“He did, but he’s not ready just yet. He feels unworthy to meet him,and you,” I rightfully added, remembering my father’s expression earlier. He had been ashamed and didn’t have the wherewithal to face the consequences his wife had caused.