Page 146 of Pretender

“This is your airport-dash, gioia mia.” Mum’s warm hand squeezes mine. “I believe in you.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

need to believe

LINNEA

The rush of seeing Aiden standing there across the stone courtyard almost floors me. Why does he get to look so fucking good when I resemble a pile of dirt? Literally. I’ve been working on hands and knees in the garden, taking on all kinds of wedding preparation tasks to avoid my mind racing. And he’s there in a crisp white t-shirt. Like a modern Italian god.

I can’t make out the expression on his face, but his gaze is on me. I can feel it.

Amara says something to him, tugging his arm.

I’m a deer in the headlights, struggling to take a full breath.

Then he strides towards me, his long legs carrying him across the courtyard faster than I can think. I finally inhale properly just when he reaches me, and the waft of his warm, familiar spicy-sweet scent hits me right in the throat.

“Linnea.” His voice is that low rumble I know would vibrate through me if he was holding me close the way he would if we weren’t where we are now.

“Aiden,” I manage, it comes out as a whisper and I clear my throat. “I thought you’d arrive tomorrow.”

“I could say the same.”

“I couldn’t go back on my word to Amara.”

“Can we talk?” he asks, moving his hands up but then letting them fall, although in my mind they keep moving up and brush down my upper arms the way that he does.

I nod. “We can talk,” I say and then remember I have at least six things left on my list of things to do for the wedding. “Give me an hour to finish what I was doing? It’s nearly done.”

“Okay,” Aiden says, sticking his hands in his jeans pockets.

The hour passes, and I’m grateful for my well-practised compartmentalisation skills, as I managed to focus and got the garden ready for tomorrow. I even checked the dining hall, before the emotion of seeing Aiden again came crashing down on me and I had to give in.

Now, I stand in the room after my shower, wondering what to wear to a pivotal relationship conversation. I’m paralysed staring at the clothes I’ve flung out over the small settee and the two chairs across from it.

What is he going to tell me that could make me trust him with my heart again?

There’s a knock on the door, and I’m rushed into action.

“One minute,” I call out and throw on underwear and the green summer dress that’s on top of the pile. Bunching all the clothes together I fling them onto the vintage, wooden four-poster bed I’ve had zero time or brain space to marvel at so far. My hair is still a damp mess, but so be it. I tie it up in a bun and step to the door.

This is it.

I considered myself ready because I’d already seen him once before today without spontaneously combusting, but Aiden standing there in my doorway like that makes me feel too much, too fast. My body aches for him to touch me. To have his arms around me. But I need to stay strong for myself. Don’t let him charm me. I need to be certain it’s my own decision, whatever it is.

“Come in,” I say, leaving the door open for him and sit down on one of the chairs instead of the settee so he can’t sit next to me. He perches on the settee across from me, and leans his elbows onto his knees.

“I have a lot I need to tell you and I hope it’ll make sense,” he starts. “My therapist gave me the advice to let you know when something is hard to say, because I’ll need some time to get it out.”

“Okay?”

“Some of what I’ll tell you today, I’ve never said out loud before and I’m not sure how it’ll sound. It’s quite messy in my head.”

I nod, picking at a cuticle, but force myself to keep my gaze on his face. His steel-blue eyes are on me, open and honest.

“Do you remember what you read on the plaque in Florence that I said I’d tell you about later?”

“Partly, it said he’d renounced his inheritance and ran away, but something about a reconciliation?”