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“Dante, how did you know where I’d be?”
His expression didn’t shift. “Closest medical facility to your accommodation. I played a hunch.”
That made sense, but she couldn’t help but feel irritated by how easily he navigated this sort of thing. She glanced away, not speaking, happiness evaporating.
“How was it?”
She toyed with the strap of her handbag. “Fine. Everything’s fine.” She opened it and removed a picture. “Here.” But to give the picture to Dante, one of them had to move, to step closer to the other, and they were both reluctant, so it took a few moments for Georgia’s legs to mobilise. She handed over the photograph, careful not to allow her fingers to touch his. “He’s right on track. Measuring where he should be. Organs developing well. All good news.”
“Yes.” Dante glanced at the picture, then back up at Georgia. Finally, he removed his glasses and Georgia thought she might almost pass out from the sense of relief she felt in seeing him. It had been too long.
Or maybe not long enough? It still wasn’t possible to look at him without feeling a rush of things she wished she didn’t. Self-preservation made her take a sharp step backwards.
“Anyway,” she shrugged. “Everything’s fine. So…yeah. I’ll see you later, I guess.”
She turned and walked away, head held high, back straight, hoping he wouldn’t tell, from the rear view, that tears had begun to fall from her eyes, and were streaming down her cheeks. As she approached the intersection, she surreptitiously lifted one hand and dashed at her eyes, willing herself to stop crying.
“Georgia.” His voice was soft. And close.
He hadn’t been watching from a distance, but rather, from right behind her. He’d followed her.
“Wait.” As if to underscore his words, his hand reached for hers, their fingers lacing together in a way that was different and strange as he turned her around. It was such an ordinary gesture, but it seemed to instantly connect his heart to hers. His features tightened at the sight of her tear-marked cheeks.
“I can’t,” she said, voice breaking. “Please…I really can’t.”
He stared at her. “Let me drive you home.”
She shook her head, her heart stuttering. “No.”
“It’s just a ride. What else are you going to do?”
Georgia sucked in a soft breath. “Do you love me, Dante?”
His throat shifted.
“Do you want to be with me? Because of me, not the baby?”
He said nothing. She pulled her hand free. “I’m not trying to cut you out of our baby stuff. I’m trying to involve you, but I also need to look after myself.” She looked away quickly, then back at him. “Please don’t do this again. Don’t surprise me. I can’t bear it. If I’m going to see you, I need time to prepare for that. I need time.” She dashed away more tears. “I’m sorry I can’t be more…okay with everything.”
“Don’t.” His voice was thick. “Please don’t apologise. This is my fault.”
“No,” she said on a sob. “It’s no one’s fault. It’s just a shitty thing that happened. To you, to me, to Bianca and Livvie. Let’s not make it worse though. That’s all. I need to not see you for a while.” She tried to smile. “I’ll message you anything about him, when I need to.” She bit down on her lip. “See you later.”
He was in agony. Her words kept running through his mind, as he walked back to his car, as he slid in behind the wheel, and as he drove off. He’d done this. He’d damn well done this. She was right. She was right, in every way.
He was the one who’d shown up uninvited. Who’d surprised her. Who’d all but steamrollered his way into her life against her wishes.
She didn’t just want him when it suited him, or when it pertained to their son. She wanted him always and she wanted all of him.
Only he wasn’t available. He’d never be available.
He drove home with the feeling that a weight of cement had been dropped on his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He just wanted to shut himself down for a while, he just wanted to get away.
Como called to him.
Just like it had called to him after the accident.
He sought it out, perhaps. He needed it, just as he had then. But Como was a happy place now, the sun shining, the weather warm, and all Dante wanted was misery. Winter. Depths of darkness and despair to reflect the mood that had settled around him.
