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‘How do you know?’
‘Because it’s all I ever needed from you and I love you more than life itself.’
Antonio’s heart thundered in his chest at his mother’s words, from her love. From the fear of taking the risk to open his heart and hope that perhaps he was worthy of love without condition or transaction. That he might just be enough by himself.
But he’d let her go. He’d seen how devastated Ivy had been as she’d asked him if he loved her. He knew what asking that had cost her and he’d forced her to do it.
‘What have I done?’
‘Nothing you can’t undo,figlio mio.’
Dio mio, he hoped his mother was right.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Shouldn’t you betterget going?’ Mrs Tenby asked gently.
Ivy peered at the clock on the computer and sighed. ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Tenby.’
The woman had softened towards her once she’d realised that Ivy wasn’t some ‘young upstart’ hoping to come in and take over the library with plans for ‘modernisation’. Of course, the money she had secured had also helped.
Antonio had been better than his word and by the time Ivy had returned to work the day after the flight that had brought her and Ms Quell back from Tuscany, the library association had matched the funds he’d donated and Mrs Tenby had been given the green light to move forward with the afterschool club.
Ivy had not been as surprised as Mrs Tenby that the donation from Antonio was in fact more than double what had originally been promised, but she was immensely pleased that it allowed for the employment of another staff member, so that they could provide even more places for local children. The generosity and the momentum it brought had made the staff happy and optimistic, excited for the future plans and programmes they could now explore.
It shouldn’t have made it harder for Ivy, but it did. Everything did.
Apparently, the moment she had set foot back into her old life, the hopeful, determined Ivy who had stood proud and powerful in Antonio’s living room facing a future without him had faded like a suntan, leaving the old, pale Ivy feeling heartbroken.
Oh, she was still determined to do the things that she’d realised she wanted to do: to travel the world, to continue to take photographs. But that pervasive sense of loneliness was hard to ignore.
It was a cycle of emotions that she would have to process. She knew the drill. Yes, it hurt, but it wouldn’t be for ever. And she clung desperately with both hands to the fact that she was doing the right thing, that demanding more for herselfwashealing.
Only there wasn’t a painkiller for this. There wasn’t something that could take this ache away. Especially as there were reminders of Antonio everywhere. Each question on the paperwork Ms Quell had given her on the flight home had burned like a brand, punctuating all that she’d had so very briefly and all that she’d lost. And when she’d tried to unpack the clothes from Italy, she’d realised that she’d never be able to wear them. Not as Ivy McKellen. Because they belonged only to Mrs Antonio Gallo.
As she got on the bus to take her to the courthouse, her phone buzzed with another message from Jamie. He’d been a little surprised when she’d told him that he couldn’t stay with her this time while he was on leave, but very understanding. And, strangely, he’d thanked her for all she’d already done for him.
It wasn’t that he’d been wilfully obtuse about it, but it was quite amazing how positively he’d responded to the boundary she’d put in place. And then she wondered if perhaps she’d done that sooner, he might have had the opportunity to show her that he could respect it sooner.
The thought made her slightly sad for herself and for Jamie, but also hopeful for the kind of relationship that they might have in the future. He really had turned himself around and Ivy knew that wouldn’t have been possible without Antonio.
He had changed her life in so many ways and now, Ivy thought, it was time to take that life and do something with it. And if in her mind’s eye she saw that future being in Italy, or travelling around the world, Antonio within reach, protecting her, steadying her while she took photographs, while they touched and kissed and laughed and loved…
She swallowed the painful lump that had formed in her throat.
That was just a dream. Nothing more than the remnants of a fantasy of what could have been.
The ding of the bus bell signalled it was stopping near the court and Ivy rose to her feet, waiting for others to get off before she stepped out onto the pavement. Despite the fact that it was summer, that only a week and a half ago she’d been in Italy where the sun had kissed her skin and warmed the world around her, England felt cold, and what passed for warm here sent a shiver down her spine. She longed for the days when she could wear sunglasses that would hide how she squinted at the world, and smiled at the fanciful idea of moving to a warmer country just for that. She had been spoilt and she just needed to get over it, she told herself firmly.
But the moment she saw Antonio’s lawyer in the hallway outside the courtroom, Ivy knew that all the thoughts that had filled her head had been nothing more than a distraction. Because suddenly she was a hair’s breadth from bursting into tears.
He’d chosen Maria. He’d chosen someone else over her and God, it hurt. It really hurt. Because she loved him so damn much. Her breath quivered in her lungs and she had to stop, had to turn to face the wall and get herself together. She fisted her hands, her nails forming crescent moons deep into her palms.
You can do this. You have to.
She took one deep breath and then another before making her way towards Simon. She wasn’t capable of a smile, but she greeted him the best she could.
‘Ms McKellen,’ he said, looking slightly harried. ‘This way, please.’