Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,104
conversation on more than one occasion! Though most were too tactful to lust after him in front of her, Erin was pretty sure her husband had caused more than a few hearts to flutter in the hospital corridors.
One young student who was particularly smitten somehow always found a reason to be in her room when Francesco happened to be there. That morning when she had been taking Erin’s temperature she had wondered why Erin did not have a picture of her husband by her bed.
‘But I suppose you’re not likely to forget what he looks like, are you? He’s always here.’ The wistful envy in her voice made Erin smile.
‘I bet he’ll make a great dad. Italian men are good with children, aren’t they?’
An image of Francesco sprawled on a rug playing with little Gianni popped into her head. ‘Some are,’ she agreed, wondering how this young girl would react if she told her that her marriage, far from being what it looked from the outside, was nothing but a sham!
The only reason Francesco had come back was because he had found out about the baby. And there was no question in her mind that if it hadn’t been for her pregnancy he wouldn’t be refusing to consider a divorce.
He had been experiencing the emotional backlash of his twin’s death when they had met, which totally explained the entire mad, reckless rush into marriage with someone he barely knew. If she hadn’t left when she had he would most likely have woken up one morning and thought, What the hell have I done? And then things would have taken their natural course.
She had tried the previous evening to tell him that he could have his freedom. He had stared at her in a particularly daunting manner while she had outlined her, admittedly pretty sketchy, plan of moving to Italy so that he could have easier access to his child.
He didn’t seem grateful for the concession she was willing to make. Neither had he held back when he had expressed his blighting opinion of her plan!
‘No, I do not think it is a good idea. I think it is a ridiculous idea. I’m sorry, Erin, if you find the thought of living as my wife so distasteful, but I suggest you put these wild and impractical notions from your mind. You will be living with me as my wife; we will be a family.’ He effectively silenced further protests by adding, ‘This is something you will do because I know that you have the best interests of our child at heart.’
If all else failed, use emotional blackmail—and why not? she thought bleakly. It had worked.
It was obvious to Erin that once she went back to Italy with him Francesco would resist using every resource, which in his case were pretty much limitless, any attempt she made to remove their child from the country. And the thing was she loved him and wanted to be with him so much that part of her just wanted to go with the flow and stop resisting even though she knew that he didn’t love her.
And that being the case there was every chance that one day he would fall in love with someone else.
She spent most of the afternoon wondering if she was being totally insane for returning to Italy with him. Finally with a spinning head she picked up a book, in the vain hope of distracting herself from thoughts of her personal life.
It was around four and she was staring blankly at the same page she had been for the past ten minutes when there was a tentative knock on the door.
The man who walked in was a little above medium height. He had a beard, slightly receding hair and wore glasses.
She had never seen him before.
‘Mrs Romanelli …’ He approached the bed beaming with his hand outstretched.
A bemused Erin gave him her hand. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t—?’
‘Stupid of me, I should have introduced myself. Peter Heyer.’
Clearly he expected it to mean something to her. Erin shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Sorry, I assumed that Francesco would have explained things to you.’
‘Are you a lawyer?’
He looked startled by the suggestion and a little offended. ‘No, Mrs Romanelli, I own the Heyer Gallery—London, New York and Barcelona …’
‘I’ve heard of that.’
‘You know, then, about our upcoming exhibition?’ ‘Not really.’
‘I’m getting the feeling that you don’t know that your husband brought your portfolio to us.’
Erin responded with a noncommittal smile. It was news to her