Modern Romance February 2020 Books 5-8. Natalie Anderson

to get home to my child and all I have to show for it now are the scars on my body. My pain is over, but his suffering will never end. I look at my scars and my heart shreds for the suffering our child has to bear, which he will have to bear every day for the rest of his life, and you think I should flaunt them to you?’

      His jaw throbbed. ‘No, dolcezza, I do not expect you to flaunt them. I expect you to share them with me as the father of your child who feels terrible guilt that his bit of fun with a beautiful Irishwoman had such tragic consequences.’

      Feeling all the emotions inside her leech out, Orla put her glass on the floor and buried her face in her hands. ‘You have nothing to feel guilty about. You have only tried to do the right thing since you learned about Finn.’

      ‘I missed the first three years of his life. Those are years I will never get back.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘We are both beyond apologies, do you not think? We both feel guilt, but we have to try and accept that it does not solve anything. You have put our child first since the day you learned you carried him. It is time for me to put him first too. I want to be a permanent part of his life, but I see that it is impossible.’

      ‘What are you saying?’

      ‘That you should return to Ireland with him. It’s his home. His language. Where he is comfortable and familiar.’

      ‘But…’

      ‘I will still see him. I visit Ireland regularly. And I will have him visit for holidays.’

      ‘That does not sound like the joint custody we spoke of.’

      ‘Joint custody will not work for Finn. He needs stability. You are his stability.’ Tonino squeezed his eyes shut as he recalled the look in Finn’s eyes when he’d come out of the seizure and locked onto Orla’s loving stare. Orla was his son’s world. He had to accept that.

      ‘Stay here for a few more days to let him recover from the seizure. I will take myself away somewhere.’

      ‘What are you talking about?’

      Dragging air into his tightened lungs, he picked up the bottle, got to his feet and took three heavy paces to the bar.

      ‘Tonino…’ she said tentatively. ‘Are you calling it a day between us?’

      He laughed. ‘Dio, you nearly sound upset.’

      Four years ago Orla hadn’t known of his trappings of wealth and had fallen for him regardless. She’d looked into his heart as no one else had done and fallen for him…but only to a point. The moment doubts had crept in she’d run away like the coward she was. And now, four years on, when she knew perfectly well his wealth, still she looked in the heart of him and decided he wasn’t enough. She did not love him. She did not trust him.

      He did not believe she would ever trust him. Without trust there could never be love.

      ‘But is that what you’re saying?’ she persisted. ‘You want to call it off because I won’t marry you? And you’re the one who laughed at me for being old-fashioned?’

      ‘Do not dare use humour to wriggle out of this,’ he snarled, twisting round to face her. ‘I have done nothing but my best to accommodate you.’

      ‘For Finn’s sake,’ she whispered. All the colour had drained from her face.

      ‘And for yours.’ He swore loudly and poured himself another drink. ‘Everything I have done has been with you in mind too and all you do is resist me. You won’t give an inch and you won’t trust me, not with your heart, your body or our son’s health.’

      ‘That’s not fair and it’s not true—’

      ‘For the last time, stop lying!’ He slammed his glass on the bar, spilling amber liquid all over his hand and the bar surface. There was clarity in the spilled liquid that focused the mind and made him take a long breath to find clarity in his thoughts. ‘If you can’t stop lying to me then at least stop lying to yourself.’

      Tonino would not lie to himself any more either. After four years of lies, the truth he had buried deep in his subconscious had risen up as clear as the spilt liquor on his hand.

      He had never got over Orla.

      He suspected that he’d fallen in love with her four years ago. He’d certainly never forgotten her or got over her, even when he’d carried on with his life and pushed her from his mind. Only in his dreams had she come back to him. Orla was the reason he’d never settled down. It was nothing to do with punishing his parents—it was because there was no room left in his heart for anyone else.

      He suspected too that his purchase of the Bally House Hotel in Dublin had been a subconscious effort to put himself on the same soil as her.

      And he suspected, too, that if he continued to live under the same roof as her, knowing his love for her would be unrequited for ever, he would drive himself insane.

      All these years he’d been waiting for Orla to come back to him and he hadn’t even known it.

      He’d finally had a taste of life as a family with the woman he loved and the child he worshipped but it wasn’t enough for her. He wasn’t enough for her.

      Any ties they’d forged together had been ripped apart.

      It was time to say goodbye.