Page 173 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

She sat down heavily in the chair Vincenzo had stood to draw back for her, murmuring an awkward thank-you.

If the baby arrives on its due date, then in a couple of weeks’ time Vincenzo will be gone. He’ll be back in Italy. Back in his own life. And I—

But she didn’t want to think about that.

Could not bear to.

Vincenzo finished his beer. His mood was bleak. He and Siena had made stilted conversation over lunch, and now she had disappeared off to the Ladies’ again. The rest of the day stretched ahead. And all the days until her time finally came.

Had it been a mistake to turn up like this? Should he rather have left Siena alone at this time, not insist he be there?

Heaviness weighed him down. The situation was impossible.

And he had made it so.

That night in Devon—

He stamped down his thoughts. They were to no purpose. The situation was as it was.

Damnable.

Memory speared in him—the words Siena had hurled at him all that time ago.

‘I am handcuffed to you—shackled to you!’

His eyes lifted from the menu.

Dread filled him at the future looming for him.

But it had to be faced. No escape from it.

His eyes went across the room. Siena was emerging from the Ladies’ room, making her way towards him. He got to his feet, holding her chair for her to sit down. There was an odd expression on her face. Puzzled...

‘I’m sorry if this is TMI—too much information—but I seem to be bleeding.’ She frowned. ‘It’s not much, but it’s definitely blood. I’m not sure what to do. Probably best to ignore it. I’ll phone the midwife when we get back. I’m sure she’ll just say it happens sometimes and tell me not to worry about it.’

She moved to sit down, but Vincenzo forestalled her. ‘I think we ought to go,’ he said.

She looked at him. ‘Don’t you want a pudding?’

He shook his head. ‘I’ll pay the bill,’ he said, picking up the chit.

He crossed to the bar.

‘I’d like to pay,’ he said.

The barman, who was pulling a pint for another customer, nodded. ‘Be right with you.’

‘Now,’ said Vincenzo.

Whatever he’d put into his voice—and he’d done so quite deliberately—it got results. Moments later Vincenzo was walking back to Siena. She was resting her hand on the back of her chair, as if leaning her weight on it.

He held his arm out to her, and though she hesitated for a moment, she took it. She was soon leaning on him, and frowning slightly.

They left the pub, Vincenzo ushering her into the car deliberately unhurriedly. He helped to settle her, ensuring, as she stipulated, that the towel was thickly folded over the bin bag. Then he got into his side of the car, but did not start the engine immediately. Instead, he keyed a destination into the sat nav.

‘What are you doing?’ Siena asked beside him.

He turned towards her.

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