Italy's Most Scandalous Virgin - Carol Marinelli Page 0,40

the air and the questions to come, suddenly there was no place she would rather be than with Dante on a Sunday morning with Rome in the rear-view mirror and the baby no longer a secret.

‘I didn’t picture you with a dog...’

‘I didn’t picture me with a dog,’ Dante responded, and then added, ‘Or a baby.’

‘How old is he?’

‘More than a hundred in dog years. He belonged to the woman in the apartment below, and when she was taken in an ambulance to hospital, Sarah offered to feed him.’

Gosh, that corkscrew in her chest tightened a little as she pictured Sarah and Dante lolling in bed, only climbing out to the sound of sirens.

Dante glanced over and saw the mottled colour on her chest and her pursed lips, and despite his dark mood found that he smiled.

‘So, when the old lady died, Sarah said that she would have him, except it turned out her husband was allergic to dogs.’

He glanced over again, and the relaxing of her features had him smiling again.

‘I suggested he go to the pound to be rehomed. Sarah insisted he was too old and arthritic and too blind and that they would put him down. I said I thought that might be for the best...’

‘Dante!’

‘Yes, well, I should have listened to myself, because he’s been living on my couch ever since.’

And having his ears stroked, Mia thought.

She looked over at him and now, despite the imminent disaster of exposure, she felt oddly relieved that he now knew and that made her brave enough to ask, ‘Are you cross that I didn’t tell you last night before we...?’

‘No,’ Dante said. ‘I am cross that you did not tell me when I asked, and I am cross that in the weeks since you found out you did not think to pick up the phone—’

‘Of course I thought about it!’

‘Yet you didn’t do it. Instead, when I asked if there might be an issue, you told me that everything was fine. Twice,’ he added.

‘The first time I didn’t know,’ Mia admitted. ‘I’ve had no morning sickness, and there was nothing to make me think that I might be pregnant until you called.’

‘And the second time?’

‘I was just starting to get used to it myself,’ Mia said. ‘For the first time in two weeks I hadn’t cried myself to sleep and was just coming round to the notion of keeping the baby. I didn’t want to rock that fragile boat.’

‘You sounded fine on the phone,’ Dante pointed out, remembering her brisk and efficient tone. Certainly, she hadn’t sounded fragile, or like a woman who was crying herself to sleep at night. Still, there was one thing he wanted to make clear. ‘I am not cross that you didn’t tell me last night.’

‘Honestly?’ Mia checked. ‘I do feel bad about that, because I did think of telling you. When you put on the...’ The word ‘condom’ died on her lips. It was such a revolting word, though it had felt far from revolting at the time.

‘Never interrupt sex.’ He glanced over and saw her blushing. ‘If we are ever having sex and over my shoulder there is a newsflash that the world is ending, please don’t stop proceedings to tell me.’

She gave a half-laugh.

‘There’ll be none of that for now, though,’ Dante said. ‘We need to sort things out properly.’

They drove in silence for a while, both dwelling on that.

For Mia, the ‘for now’ offered if not hope then a glimpse of possibility that this wasn’t the end of them.

While for Dante he’d simply meant what he’d said: the attraction was there, it was pointless to deny it, and after all it had got him to considering more. Last night he had been thinking along the lines of an occasional affair, while knowing deep down that could never work in the long run.

The debris from the bombshell was settling and he was starting to think with a clearer head.

‘Have you seen a doctor?’ Dante asked.

‘Yes.’ She looked at him. ‘I’m keeping the baby, whether you want me to or not...’

‘That is one thing we are agreed on at least.’ He glanced over and then looked away. As to the rest, it was one hell of a mess.

‘Whether you believe me or not, I didn’t plan this, Dante.’

‘Not at first perhaps,’ Dante said. He was always honest and so did not amend his thoughts as he vocalised them, ‘but I believe that I was your Plan C.’ He had done a lot