Page 42 of Italian Baby Shock

He was frowning, though. ‘I don’t like that she made you feel responsible for her moods.’

‘She wasn’t well,’ Lark said. ‘I didn’t want to add to it. And sometimes—’ She broke off all of a sudden, not wanting to say the doubt out loud, because part of her didn’t want her to acknowledge it even to herself.

‘Sometimes?’ Cesare let go of her hips, only to thread his fingers through her hair, holding her gently as he looked down into her eyes. ‘What about sometimes?’

She sighed. ‘Sometimes I used to wonder if she wouldn’t have been happier if I hadn’t been born at all. Then she wouldn’t have had to go on the run and maybe she wouldn’t have—’

‘She might,’ Cesare interrupted gently. ‘But also, she might not have. Also, as a parent, I know that even though Maya completely upended my life and yours, I’d much rather she was born than not.’

Lark let out a breath and the words she’d been keeping inside for far too long came spilling out along with it. ‘There was nothing I could do to fix her,’ she said huskily. ‘I tried to be happy, tried to keep smiling. Tried to stay optimistic. But nothing worked. Or it would work for a bit, but then she’d spiral again. Sometimes, she’d stay in her room with the door locked for days and days.’ Her throat tightened, the old fear floodingback. ‘And I used to be so afraid that one day she wouldn’t come out.’

Cesare’s blue gaze somehow became no less fierce, no less sharp, and yet there was something protective in it that wrapped around her heart and pulled tight. ‘I know your mother was in a difficult situation and that she was afraid. And that she might have been sick, as well, but why did she not get help?’

‘It was difficult, because she didn’t want anyone to know our names in case my father found us.’

‘So what provision did she make for you?’ His fingers tightened in her hair. ‘What if one day she actually hadn’t come out of that room? What would have happened to you then?’

Unexpectedly, Lark felt her tears fill her eyes. She’d been so afraid back then, and sometimes she wondered if perhaps her mother had infected her with her own fear and paranoia, that it was a vicious circle, each of them feeding off the other’s fear.

‘I don’t know,’ she said huskily. ‘She didn’t have any friends and wouldn’t allow me to have any either. She thought the less people who knew about us the better.’

Cesare’s mouth hardened and she saw the blue glow of anger in his eyes. But not at her she knew.

‘You can’t get angry at her,’ she said, feeling protective. ‘She did the best she could.’

‘No, she didn’t.’ His voice was flat. ‘The best she could would have been not to make you responsible for her wellbeing. That was her job, not yours.’

It was her most secret doubt, the anger that she kept locked tight away inside her. Anger at Grace for doing exactly that, for ensuring her childhood was one town after another, a cheap flat, a grotty motel room, a stranger’s basement...

No friends. No steady school. Only fear and the sense that she was always walking on eggshells around her mother, never sure what would send her into another depressive incident. Theknowledge that she was the one who had to look after Grace, not the other way around.

Lark felt hot tears fill her eyes, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe just the fact that he’d said it aloud and it was such a relief to have someone else acknowledge it. ‘I was...angry at her,’ she said. ‘I know it wasn’t her fault and that she wanted to protect me, and I loved her. But I’m angry with her all the same.’

‘You can love someone and be angry with them at the same time,’ he said. ‘And I know it doesn’t change things, but you should have had better, Lark.’

He believed it, she could see. There was a fierceness to his stare that for some reason felt like cold water on a burn, easing her. Soothing her.

‘Thanks,’ she said huskily. ‘That helps. And you know what? I don’t even feel angry any more.’

‘Good.’ The fierceness in his stare somehow intensified. ‘Then you won’t mind telling me what was bothering you earlier, will you?’

Cesare saw reluctance flicker through Lark’s wide sea-green eyes. She didn’t want to tell him, that was clear, though he couldn’t imagine why, not when over the course of the past few weeks they’d grown closer.

Having her here at the palazzo, in his bed at night and waking up to her in the morning, then sharing coffee on the terrace as Maya played at their feet...it had been so unexpectedly fulfilling. And while he still saw flashes of her delightful temper, she’d started to relax with him, the truth of her becoming apparent, so warm and open and genuine. Intelligent, funny and honest too.

She was a delight. The way she’d been that night two years ago.

Their daughter too was a delight.

He also hadn’t realised how completely fascinating having a child was. How a deep part of him kept getting drawn to this little girl with the big blue eyes the same colour as his own. Maya, too, had a temper that he admired and she was also very stubborn, which he also admired. She was very loud sometimes and he admired that less, but he respected her commitment to it.

She’d started smiling for him now and lifting her arms to him whenever she saw him, and he was sure she’d babbledPapaat him on more than one occasion.

He had no words to describe the strength of feeling inside him on those occasions.

The only thing he knew was that going places with his little family or even just staying at home with them had made him for the first time in his life...happy.

This was what he’d wanted to give his child that he’d never had himself. This happiness. He’d once thought that all families were like his, that most parents screamed and hated each other like his did, but it wasn’t until after they’d gone that he’d understood that no, most families weren’t like that.

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