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‘Then why…?’ Understanding flashed. ‘Because your parents will be there?’
He was angry with them.
Diaz’s ultra-glamorous parents were the most unashamedly selfish people in existence. Uncompromising about living their lives on their own terms, they refused to feel guilt or contrition about putting their own needs and wants first.
Rose could no more comprehend their selfishness when it came to their children—and now grandchildren—than Diaz could. Seeing them in action for the first time since Mrs Martinez’s funeral, at which they’d stayed for the service and an hour of the wake before jetting off to Los Angeles, only served to increase her appreciation for Diaz’s determination to be a proper father to their girls. He had some of his parents’ traits, that was for sure, from his uncompromising, single-minded nature to his love of the finer things in life, but he wasn’t selfish when it came to those he loved. When Diaz loved, it was with a fierce loyalty and a deep-rooted protective instinct. The latter, she suspected, had come to life when Rosaria had been born, and the wound in Rose’s heart that had never healed throbbed to know the love he held so deeply and fiercely would never be for her.
He desired her. He respected her as mother to his daughters. She suspected he was even growing to like her. But love?
Their shared history was every bit as much of a barrier for him as it was for her. It loomed between them in everything never said.
Diaz dropped a kiss into Rose’s silky, fragrant hair before unwrapping his arms and stepping away to dress.
If he wanted…and he did want, as much as he’d ever wanted anything…he would lift her out of that chair, carry her into the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. Rose understood his feelings towards his parents better than anyone else. They could spend the evening making love and forget all about his anger towards his abhorrently selfish mother and father.
He shoved his arms into a black shirt and tried to quell the rage still flowing through his veins by watching Rose ring her eyes with dark eyeliner.
He’d spoken to his parents numerous times since his grandmother’s funeral but today was the first time he’d seen them in person. He hadn’t realised how angry he was with them for this, especially at their failure to meet their granddaughters, not until they’d breezed into his home acting as if no time at all had passed since they’d last been under the same roof. They’d shown the exact amount of interest in their granddaughters as he’d known they would. Reality had matched his expectations perfectly.
For them to so casually mention the party and then encourage Diaz to take Rose along to it and spend hours of an evening socialising at the same party they’d be attending when they’d shown such little interest in their beautiful granddaughters had provoked such anger in him that if he hadn’t seen the expression on Rose’s face he might well have exploded. They’d afforded their granddaughters, babies of their own blood, less than two hours of their time since their birth. A third of the time they would spend at one party.
But hehadseen Rose’s expression in the unguarded moment when the party had been suggested and the spark of longing that had flashed in her eyes, and had quelled his temper and agreed to go.
He could not deny her anything.
Continuing to dress, he watched her expertly coat her lashes in thick mascara then reach for a round pot before her stare caught his reflection again.
Instead of opening the lid to the pot, she held his stare and softly said, ‘Diaz, I don’t blame you for being angry with them. They neglected their responsibilities to your grandmother so they could waltz around the world without any cares, and now history’s repeating itself with our daughters.’
‘They’re selfish narcissists,’ he stated flatly.
‘I know, but all this suppressed anger…’ She lifted a slender shoulder into a rueful shrug. ‘It isn’t healthy. They’re not going to change. Wouldn’t it be easier and healthier to just learn to accept them for who they are?’
His hand stilled at the knot he was forming in his tie. It took all his control not to snarl at her. ‘You think I should forget all their neglect and move on?’
‘You’ll never be able to forget it, but moving on? It’s possible. But you’ll only be able to do that if you can put the past behind you. The fact you haven’t cut them from your life suggests you do want a relationship with them, and, in their own selfish way, they do love you and want to be involved in your life too. Only you can decide if that counts for something.’ Her lips curved into a sad smile. ‘You can hold onto your resentment over their terrible, selfish parenting and let it eat you up or you can try and enjoy the time you get to spend with them because I can tell you this much—I would bite your hand off for five minutes with my mother. I would give a kidney just to hear her voice.’
Diaz’s brief flare of anger at her unwelcome observations evaporated. His chest tightened into a point so painful it was difficult to breathe as he remembered Rose’s complete devastation at her mother’s funeral. She’d been hollow with grief. Barely able to support her own weight.
He remembered, too, the ache to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight to him that had gripped him that day. He’d watched her every move, afraid her fragility would see her dissolve into vapour if she left his sight, the compulsion to promise her everything would be okay and that he would take care of her alive on the tip of his tongue.
Maybe if his sister and grandmother hadn’t taken such great care of her, he might have done all those things, but between them, they’d supported her the whole day, never leaving her alone for a second.
Was that the day it had all changed for him? He couldn’t say for certain. It had all come about in increments. The only thing he could say for certain was that the overwhelming tenderness he’d felt for Rose on the day of her mother’s funeral hadn’t lasted because he hadn’t let it. He hadn’t wanted to let it.
‘And what about you?’ he asked quietly, working on knotting his tie again without dropping his stare from the woman who shared his bed every night, who gave herself to him every night, who curled herself into him for sleep every night, but who still turned her mouth away from his. ‘Do you think the day will come when you can put the past behind you and move on too?’
Her eyes closed, something—pain?—spasming over her face before her throat moved and she rested her gaze back on him. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.
Now he closed his eyes, taking a moment to find air.
What would he do if she couldn’t?
It didn’t bear thinking about. He just had to be patient and give her the time she’d asked for and trust that she would find trust. In him.
There were days when everything felt so perfect he would forget he was waiting for her to decide if she would stay with him for ever, but then his lips would ache for a kiss that never came and he was forced to confront the reality of his situation and swallow back all the turgid emotions that came with the reality check.
He’d promised patience and, as much as it killed him, he needed to enact it for as long as needed.