Page 172 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

She gave directions and Vincenzo followed them. The flat, arable landscape was very different from that of hilly, pastoral South Devon, but he made no reference to it. Their time there—the way it had ended—lay between them, unspoken of and impossible to mention. Instead, he asked general questions about the area, and Siena politely gave answers, her air of constraint still palpable.

As for him...

Their encounter yesterday had not been easy, but he had not expected it to be. What had been achieved between them—their comfortable companionship during their time in Devon—had gone.

I destroyed it.

And now—now all he could do was what he was doing. Being here to support her in whatever way he could, whatever way she would allow. Ready to take on the responsibility of a parental role he had never looked for but now had to shoulder.

However impossible that might be.

As he drove his eyes slid to her, sitting beside him, her face in profile, her gravid body expectant. Soon—within days—his life would change irrevocably and for ever.

It already has.

But not just because of the baby...

‘Shall we find somewhere to stop for lunch soon?’

Siena gave a little start at Vincenzo’s voice.

‘Yes, good idea,’ she said politely.

His question had interrupted her thoughts, which had been drifting, formless and shapeless, as they’d motored on. Though it had brought painful reminders of their time in Devon, it had been soothing, in a way, to drive around like this. She hadn’t been anywhere except to the local clinic and for hospital appointments.

Absently, as it so often did, her hand went to the swell of her body, as if with compunction.

Poor little mite. Coming into the world like this...

‘What about that place coming up?’

Again, Vincenzo’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

She looked to where he was indicating. It looked a decent enough place, typical Suffolk pink, prosperous-looking, with a blackboard sign outside sayingGood Food!It would do as well as anywhere.

He pulled across to it, driving the car into a small but busy car park—another encouraging indicator. Getting out took a while, and she flexed her legs, feeling elephantine and regretting, for a moment, having come out at all. But they were here now, and she was feeling hungry. Besides, she could do with using the facilities...

Vincenzo guided her inside. Memory pierced of how they’d toured the Devon countryside, explored the Jurassic Coast, how they’d walked along Jane Austen’s Cobb, in Lyme, and then tried out the Ammonite Pavement to look for fossils. How that midwife with the jumpy dog had told her to enjoy being pregnant, said how excited she must be feeling, and Vincenzo too, how happy they must be...

How hollow that had sounded, even then.

And now—

It was a thousand times more hollow...

‘Will this table suit?’

Vincenzo’s polite enquiry interrupted memories that only brought pain.

‘Yes, it’s fine. I’ll join you in a moment.’

She disappeared off in the direction of the washrooms. She felt self-conscious, walking across to them, but there was nothing she could do about that. On her way back to the table a few minutes later she caught a woman seated at another table giving Vincenzo the once-over. He was oblivious to it. As she approached the table the woman saw her, saw how pregnant she was, and looked away, consigning Vincenzo to the category of ‘taken’.

But he isn’t, is he? And one day—one day when he is simply doing a duty visit to the baby he never asked for, never wanted, would never welcome but only feel responsible for—he will meet a woman who will captivate him, who won’t mind that he has a spare son or daughter somewhere in England, by a woman he only ever spent two nights with...

She dragged her thoughts away. Why torment herself with them? To what purpose?

None.

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