Page 32 of The Convenient Cosentino Wife

“What do you feel guilty about?” Rocco asked.

She lifted one shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does. It’s important to understand how you’re feeling, and not just about us, but for the future, and the past.”

There was something about Rocco’s presence that made her feel restless, that made her need to move, walk, put a little distance between them. She never felt that way about Marius. For her, Marius had been like a favorite blanket...a warm embrace. She’d melted in his arms, finding such comfort in his nearness. There was none of that with Rocco.

“I can’t explain it so that you’d understand.” Clare’s voice sharpened. “I sometimes don’t understand it, but I do feel guilty. I feel guilty that I’m alive and Marius is dead. I feel guilty that Marius died without knowing we’d made a child. I feel guilty that Adriano won’t have the loving father he should have. I feel guilty for even having this conversation, considering a future where I’m replacing Marius—”

“You’re not replacing Marius,” Rocco growled. “Let’s agree on that one point. He will never be replaced. He can’t be replaced. Clare, we both know Marius is irreplaceable. So that’s not what this is about. This is about making sure his son, someone incredibly important, has the best life possible, and I’m not so vain to think that there can’t be other men to love him as a father, but I can assure you, that I will love him as a son. As my son. Because he is the closest thing to a son I’ll ever have.”

“You could have children of your own—”

“No. That’s not in the cards.” His features hardened, his jaw jutting like granite. Even his silver gaze looked like stone. “It is you, Clare, or it is no one.”

His fierce tone felt like a blow to her chest and she took a step back, shocked. Marius avoided conflict but Rocco’s words landed with a thump in her chest. His words shocked her, and she didn’t know if she was flattered or horrified.

It is you, Clare, or it is no one.

The grim certainty in his voice forced her gaze up and she looked into his eyes, trying to see what it was that made him say such things. He didn’t want to marry again, but he’d marry her. He didn’t want to date again, but he’d been envious of her and Marius’s happiness. It didn’t make sense, but she did believe Rocco would take his role as a surrogate father to Adriano seriously, and with Adriano wanting Rocco in his life, she was the only thing standing in the way.

“When would we marry?” she asked, voice surprisingly steady.

“As soon as we could get the necessary paperwork. Two weeks? Ten days?”

So soon. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I imagine we will get married at a courthouse?”

“That is no wedding.”

“I don’t need a wedding.”

“It’s your first marriage, you should have a wedding. I’ll have someone handle the details. Is there anything you’d like...anything you don’t want?”

She was already second-guessing her decision. “Just simple, please. Simple and quick.”

Back at the villa, with Rocco on his way to Rome, Clare locked herself in her bedroom and cried.

What had she done?

Why had she agreed to this?

It was foolish. She’d lost her mind, gotten caught up in the moment trying to make everyone happy. But marriage to Rocco wouldn’t make her happy.

It wasn’t just that Rocco was still virtually a stranger, but it felt like a betrayal to Marius’s memory. How could she move on already? She’d loved him so dearly; she wasn’t ready to replace him. She didn’t think she could ever replace him. Rocco could say what he wanted, but she didn’t really know him, not yet. Yes, they were building a new relationship, but the past weighed heavy. He hadn’t been kind to her in the past. He’d been hard and brooding and what if that was the real Rocco?

Marriage was such a huge step and yes, she was doing it for Adriano, but that didn’t ease all of her fears. In fact, the fears were so strong that she didn’t know how to reconcile her heart and her head.

She needed time. She needed to think this through and not be rushed into a decision.

Clare had other homes, other properties she and Adriano would be safe at. She’d find someplace for them, someplace Rocco couldn’t find them, at least not immediately, which would give her time to pull herself together.

Of course she’d send him a message—a text or an email, something. She’d try to explain. She owed him that much at least.

In the morning at breakfast she told Adriano that they were going to go on a trip, fly to the United States, and visit some of the properties she owned.

“To Florida?” he asked, aware that her father lived there.

“I was thinking we’d go to California. We have a big house and vineyard we’ve never been to. I thought maybe we would go see it and decide if we want to keep it or sell it. You could help me decide.”

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