Page 70 of My Fake Italian Marriage

“You care for her. Please tell me you’re not thinking of asking her to stay.”

When he didn’t answer, she frowned. “You already did?”

He didn’t like that she read him so easily. “She didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head, her expression softening. “I can guess her answer. If you want Cleo to even consider staying, you have to offer more than a job or a temporary, pretend marriage. She deserves someone who’ll make a commitment to her.”

His throat tightened. “I will not make her any promises I cannot keep.”

“Good, because she’s been hurt that way before.”

“I know. I met the Arse.”

“Not Evan. He was a symptom, not the cause.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow again, but Sarah only shook her head. “I don’t want to seeeitherof you hurt, and I’m worried that you will be.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “You think you can’t be hurt?” She laughed softly. “You are your own worst enemy, Luca. It’s not that youcan’tpromise Cleo more, but that youwon’t, even though you know the two of you are good together.”

They were better than good together, but how long would it last? “I cannot promise to be faithful to her forever.”

She rolled her eyes. “There you go with thecannotagain, when what you mean is you won’t. Though I don’t believe that either, not for a minute. When you fall in love, I think you’ll be the most dedicated, faithful husband alive.” She glanced towards her husband and Cleo, and smiled. “Or maybe the second most dedicated husband.” She faced Luca again. “But if you’re not in love with Cleo, and if she isn’t the one who makes you want to give up all other women, then you need to let her go.”

He sent her a sceptical look. “You know I’m not the kind to fall in love.”

“You think because you’ve never fallen in love before, that you can’t? You don’t get to pick who you fall in love with, Luca. It just happens.” She turned back to where Cleo and her husband were still laughing together. Cleo had that effect on people. She always managed to make them smile, brought out the best in them, even Tommaso, who made Luca think of a big, grumpy grizzly bear.

“Cleo deserves to be loved whole-heartedly and unreservedly. She deserves someone who chooses her above everyone else, and who will fight for her.”

“I agree.” Cleo deserved someone far better than him. But the thought of her with someone else, smiling at someone else, eyes glazing with passion for someone else, was like a spear through his heart.

“Are you two going to stand there all night, or are you coming to get a drink?” Tommaso called to them. With an affectionate smile for her husband, Sarah moved to his side, but Luca stayed where he was, turning slowly to look again at the fresco, this time without really seeing it.

Could Sarah be right? Was it possible for him to fall in love? He certainly felt more for Cleo than he had for any other woman he’d known. She’d crept past his defences and into his heart. But would it matter if he did love her? Even if, for the first time at the ripe old age of thirty-seven, he experienced his first broken heart, he still had to let her go. Because he could not, would not, break Cleo’s heart. Better to end it now, while they were still friends, than later, when he might destroy her. No, whatever this was between them, it had to end. And that meant they had only a few more days.

Slowly, he moved to join the others, but it took a greater effort than usual to produce the easy-going smile that hid his feelings.

It was a gorgeous, warm evening, and the sun still hovered above the horizon, turning the sky a rich apricot colour, so they moved to sit at the table outside, on the terrace that overlooked a lush, informal garden bright with colourful flowers. They began the evening meal with anaperitivo, a low-alcohol cocktail of Campari, Prosecco and soda water, accompanied by a platter of prosciutto and juicy melon fresh from the Rossis’ greenhouse.

The conversation flowed, light and easy, so that Luca did not have to expend too much effort to maintain his façade. But behind the façade, his chest remained tight.

Cleo cast him a curious look, as if sensing his disquiet. Beneath the table, he reached for her hand, gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze, and was rewarded with her magical smile.

Sarah served their next course, a traditional slow-cooked Tuscan white bean soup, lightly accented with garlic, and accompanied by rosemary cornbread and Tommaso’s Sangiovese blend.

“You don’t have any guests staying at the moment?” Luca asked, leaning back in his chair as he sipped Tommaso’s wine. Sarah and Tommaso lived in the cottage behind the main house, which had once been Tommaso’s grandmother’s cottage, and rented out thecastellofor additional income.

Sarah nodded. “We can only enjoy this terrace now when there aren’t any guests.”

“You don’t mind having strangers in your home?” He thought of Cleo’s suggestion to turn their villa into a hotel. It was a good suggestion, sensible even, under the circumstances, but the mere thought filled him with horror. No matter how much they needed the income, he wanted to see his home filled with family rather than with strangers. Nieces and nephews, his brother, and his cousins, the way it used to be. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to fear growing old alone.

“This was never really our home, not like yours.” Sarah glanced at her husband, the look passing between them full of shared history and shared memories.

After the delicious soup, came the pasta course, thefagottiniso perfect that even Pierina would have been hard-pressed to find fault. They skipped the traditional meat course and went straight to Sarah’sciliegina sulla torta,a dessert of light, fluffy lemon ricotta cake, followed by glasses of Vin Santo and Sarah’s home-baked almondcantuccibiscuits.

If it hadn’t been for that tightness in his chest, it would have been a lovely evening. But when, at last, the meal was done, and Sarah’s yawn gave them an excuse to leave, Luca couldn’t wait to take Cleo home, to show her how much she’d come to mean to him, even if he didn’t have the words for what he felt.

ChapterTwenty-Nine

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