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“I’ll bet.” Portia took another sip of her tea. “So then you came to London?”
“I came to Europe,” Georgia corrected. “Being in London was really just to tell Dante about the baby. And I didn’t think—I was sure he wouldn’t want anything to do with us, with me.” She lifted her shoulders. “I didn’t know, when I told him, about…his family.” Her voice faltered a little and Portia’s eyes softened.
“It was a huge tragedy.”
Georgia swallowed past a lump in her throat. “He hates me,” she admitted, finally, and it was such a relief to be able to get those words out, to admit the truth, that she almost cried.
Portia was very quiet. “Why do you say that?”
Georgia was saved from answering by the doorbell. She stood up, offering an apologetic glance at Georgia. “Excuse me.”
When she returned a moment later, it was with a flush of embarrassment to be carrying not one but two brown paper bags. “Are you hungry? I seem to have substantially over-ordered. I’m ravenous these days, and at the weirdest times. Sometimes I wake up and it’s three in the morning and I feel that I could eat a horse.”
Portia eyed the bags. “What have you got?”
“Italian.”
Portia laughed. “His family’s going to love you.”
Georgia’s smile dropped but she leaned her head forward to hide that as she pulled containers from the bags, stacking them on the bench. Portia meanwhile grabbed out plates and cutlery and a bottle of mineral water from the fridge, with the familiarity of someone who’d been here often.
“Let’s see what you got.” Portia lifted the lids off various pastas and arancini and some pork dish Georgia didn’t even remember ordering, as well as garlic focaccia and grinned. “This looks delicious.”
“It looks like I’m the greediest person on earth.”
“You’re growing a whole human,” Georgia pointed out. “I’ve heard that can be a hungry business.”
“You don’t have kids?”
Portia’s face flickered with something and she shook her head slowly. “No. We’re trying.”
Georgia’s heart clutched. She felt so much grief loaded into those two words, and her heart went out to the other woman. “It can take time,” she said, gently.
Portia’s smile was determined. “That’s what I’m told.” She bit down into her lip. “I just always thought—,” She broke off, her voice wavering a little, and she concentrated on scooping pasta into plates. Big, generous servings that filled Georgia with relief. “I don’t really have much of a family. Mum and dad, and me, that’s it. Then there’s the Santoros, who are like this big, loud, Italian hug that wraps right around you. They’re all in each other’s lives, they work together, they’re really great, I promise. But I always wanted that for myself. Lots of kids. Lots of noise.”
Georgia knew that offering false platitudes was meaningless. “How long have you been trying?”
“Eight months.”
Georgia reached out and put a hand on hers. “You’ve seen a doctor?”
Portia laughed, and it was a sound of genuine affection. “Marco has engaged just about every fertility specialist in Europe. Oh, don’t mistake me, he’s loving how much we’re trying,” she quipped, flushing a little, “but he hates seeing me unhappy.”
“I’m so sorry,” Georgia murmured.
“What for?”
“For this,” she gestured to her stomach. “It must be hard for you.”
“Oh, Georgia, no, absolutely not!” Portia moved closer to the other women and put a hand on Georgia’s stomach in a gesture that was completely natural and right. “I’m delighted. A baby is a baby! A little person to love and adore. What a blessing.”
The kindness of this woman touched something in Georgia’s heart and a tear slid down her cheek.
“I’ve upset you.”
“No,” Georgia half-sobbed, half-laughed. “I was just thinking how bloody lucky our son will be to have you for an aunt. I don’t think Dante or I have evinced even a shadow of that happiness about the pregnancy since finding out. Thank you. I needed to hear that. To hear someone be genuinely happy about this, to remind me how special our baby will be.”
“Oh, Georgia.” Portia shook her head. “I love him to bits, I really do, but there are many times when Dante can be the biggest horse’s ass imaginable. Try not to take it personally.”
