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‘They have a special relationship,’ she’d said of Maria and Antonio as she had led her away from the party, looking for somewhere private to talk. ‘Maria was there for him when his own father couldn’t be. My husband was a man who underestimated himself, and when confronted with his own failures decided to run from them rather than stay and fight.’ Alessia had lowered her head in shame.
‘One night, Antonio overheard my husband saying that he regretted ever adopting him… Antonio ran away. We searched for him for hours, but couldn’t find him. My husband, he…he said that he couldn’t live like this. He couldn’t bear to be a man who didn’t want his wife’s child, and if he stayed that’s all he would ever be: despicable and unworthy. The man I married had been a kind, loving man. But Antonio was an affront to his masculinity and in an environment where that was paramount, he crumbled. So he left, before we’d even found Antonio.’
A sliver of hurt had cut Ivy deep. ‘How did you find him?’ she asked.
‘Luca, Maria’s father, called, saying that Maria knew where he was. She, Antonio and Micha would often play in a nearby forest and she was sure that’s where he would be. She wouldn’t stop screaming until we let her take us there to find him.’
Ivy’s had chest stirred. ‘How old was he when this happened?’
‘Eight. Maria, six. He’d been there for several hours before Maria led us to him.’
Ivy had cursed silently; an image of Jamie had popped into her head and the rage she felt was fierce and swift. And she couldn’t help the question that fell from her lips. ‘What happened to your husband?’
‘I don’t know and I don’t care,’ Alessia had said, with a sad determination in her gaze. ‘Which is precisely why I changed our surnames back to Gallo. He is nothing to us,no?’ Alessia said, and Ivy understood completely.
‘I don’t say this easily,’ Antonio’s mother continued, ‘but I say this because I think you should know this about my son. He is fiercely loyal to those who love him and he seems to think that’s all he needs. But I believe he needs more.’
And something in Ivy’s heart ached. Ached that Antonio had a mother who wanted more for her son. Ached that Alessia was the kind of mother Ivy would have wanted growing up. One who had chosen to stay instead of leave—fight for her family instead of surrender it. One who loved her child above other more selfish wants.
The clatter of cutlery drew Ivy back to the dinner and she cast a look at Antonio beside her, his profile a study in chiaroscuro, his features slashes of shades of darkness and light.
Plates were taken, and course after course continued, as Ivy thought over what Alessia had said. Remembering the way Antonio had looked at her when he’d realised she’d been alone at the hospital when he’d ignored her call. She’d been an adult when that had happened to her, but what about him? He’d only been a child when he’d been abandoned by the very people who should have cared for him the most. And she knew—knew—the kind of wound that inflicted. The hurt…the pain.
She felt Antonio’s arm come across the back of her chair, unknowingly offering her reassurance and comfort for the ache she felt forhim.
‘Are you okay?’ he whispered in her ear.
She nodded, even as her heart turned for him. She smiled up at him and, in doing so, caught the snide gaze of a family member. A mean giggle cut across the table. The hostility surprised her and angered her in equal measure. How could they be so openly cruel? How could Antonio have put up with this for his entire life?
Antonio flicked a gaze between Ivy and his cousin, and tossed his napkin onto his plate. He turned to his mother on his other side and said something, before getting to his feet and holding his hand for her to take.
Silence descended over the table, dinner hadn’t finished yet, but he only had eyes for her. Right now, she held onto that, ignoring the rest of the family the same way he did. She took his hand and let him lead her away from the table and back into the sprawling villa that she would most certainly have got lost in had she not been guided by him.
They passed through gently lit hallways with stone flooring and ancient wooden beams above. The colours of muted plaster and soft terracotta passed in a blur as Antonio led her into the heart of the villa.
They came to a stop outside a door at the end of a corridor. He pushed it open and gestured for her to go inside. ‘I don’t care what my mother said,’ he told her, waiting at the door. ‘I’ll find somewhere else to sleep.’
Ivy bit her lip. ‘Actually, can you stay?’
His face was a mask, disguising his thoughts, but she wouldn’t regret asking him. She didn’t want to be alone in this unfamiliar mansion. His wound had opened hers and she felt vulnerable in a way she couldn’t put words to.
‘Are you sure?’
‘We’re both adults, Antonio,’ she said with more conviction than she felt, passing him to enter the room.
The bed was large and dominated the entire back wall. It sat against exposed brickwork that looked traditional, while sleek fittings in light touches made the space feel modern and open. The room was lit with gentle up-lights, making the most of the high ceilings, but really, all Ivy saw was the bed.
Her bag was next to his, beside a chaise longue that was too small for either of them and she wandered over to the window that looked out on the opposite side of the villa to where they had been having dinner.
‘Tired?’ he asked from behind her.
‘Yes,’ she lied, already doubting that she’d get even a minute of sleep lying next to Antonio Gallo.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Neither of them moved from where they stood.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ she said before she could stop herself.
‘Sì.’