Page 38 of His to Hold

When I get to the kitchen, I find Janetta preparing breakfast. I smell bacon and she’s flipping pancakes at the stove. There’s also a delicious aroma coming from the waffle maker. Despite her seemingly cooking a dozen different dishes when there’s only me in the house, there’s very little mess in the kitchen. If it was me cooking, there would be mixing bowls and various utensils lying all over the place, I can rustle up some pretty tasty dishes, but I’m not great at cleaning up as I go along.

“Isabella.” Janetta greets me with a warm smile as I climb onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “Any news about Gio?”

I shake my head. “I was about to ask you if you’d heard anything.”

Janetta raises an eyebrow. “Antonio hasn’t been in touch?”

“No.”

“I’m sure he’s just caught up in things and no news is good news, right? He probably didn’t want to disturb your rest if there was nothing to report.”

Janetta’s rush to make excuses for Antonio does little to soothe my hurt. If he wanted to speak to me, he would, no matter what time of day it was. The look of sympathy on her face as my lip wobbles is hard to bear. Desperate to change the subject before I give in to the urge to cry, I make a show of sniffing the air.

“Something smells good.”

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want this morning, so I made a bit of everything.”

Guilt assails me. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. I’m not hungry.”

“What you don’t eat, the security team will soon polish off,” Janetta assures me, “but you must eat something.”

“Perhaps just some orange juice. I feel queasy.”

Her gaze drifts toward my abdomen, clearly wondering if I’m suffering from morning sickness. It strikes me then that I could be pregnant. Antonio and I haven’t been using birth control. When we married, we agreed to let nature take its course, and it didn’t occur to me to raise the subject of contraception when Antonio brought me back into his life. Even if I was pregnant, it would be too soon for morning sickness. I’m suffering for my late-night dinner and that’s all.

“You should eat something.” Janetta’s concern is touching. “How about a waffle and some fresh fruit?”

It’s impossible to say no as she’s already dishing up the food before I have a chance to refuse. She places a plate with a waffle, some fresh berries, and a drizzle of maple syrup in front of me. Initially, my stomach threatens to revolt, but when I take a bite of the warm, fluffy waffle, it settles. Janetta pours me some orange juice.

“Coffee?” she asks.

“Please.”

As she uses the fancy machine to make me a cappuccino, my favorite coffee in the morning, I eat my breakfast and try not to let somber thoughts drag me down. On top of my worry for Gio, I’m anxious about what’s going to happen between me and Antonio. I guess I shouldn’t tie myself up in knots over it. I’ve been shut out by my husband before and I survived it.

Janetta places my cappuccino in front of me. She studies my face and offers me a reassuring smile. “You should go to him.”

“He doesn’t want me there.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I offered to go with him. He said he didn’t need me.”

Janetta clucks her tongue. “Antonio thinks he doesn’t need anyone. He’s been that way since he was a boy. His father burdened him with responsibility at too young an age.”

My eyes widen in surprise. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone criticize Marco Volante. I didn’t spend much time around Antonio’s father when I was a kid, but everyone acted as if he was one of the greatest men to ever walk the Earth. The reverence for him only intensified after he died.

“You need to show him he’s not alone.”

“He isn’t alone,” I tell her. “He has his mother, his sister, his brothers.”

The older woman’s lips twist into a wry grin. “But they cannot give him what you can. The love of his wife is a prize to be treasured. Make him see that.”

“I don’t love him,” I murmur under my breath, even though I’m not sure of the truth of that. If I didn’t love him, surely I’d have let go of my hopes of reconciliation at some point over the last year?

“Yes, you do.” Janetta reaches over and pats my hand. “You wouldn’t be so miserable if you didn’t. And Antonio loves you too in his way.”

“In his way,” I scoff.

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