Page 46 of The Convenient Cosentino Wife

But she would be, eventually. She had to remain firm. His words were pretty, but his idea of love wasn’t hers. Love wasn’t manipulative, love wasn’t dishonest, love didn’t deceive.

The wind in April was even stronger than the March wind. The wind blew through the old house, rattling and whistling, and while it wasn’t as cold as it had been in February, it was far from cozy and the wind kept knocking out the electricity, and it was one thing to go without internet for a few days, but another to have no power at all.

Easter week they left Greece and returned to their villa in Italy. Adriano was overjoyed, and after arriving at the estate, he rolled on the lawn, and then dashed down the stairs to the beach, running through the waves, the saltwater soaking his rolled-up jeans.

Clare stood on the beach watching her son, a fist pressed to her mouth, feeling her worlds collide. He looked like his father, but also his uncle, with his dark hair and eyes, and his sturdy athletic little frame. He wasn’t a shy child, and he handled change as well as anyone, but he was smart, sweet and so loving.

He hadn’t stopped asking for Rocco, either.

But one day he would. It would just take time.

Adriano was sure Rocco would return for his third birthday. Clare tried to discourage Adriano for believing such a thing because there had been no contact, no calls, nothing at all. As an only child with no cousins and no friends, it was hard to have a proper party, but Clare organized for a colorful tent to be set up in the yard, and a pony for pony rides. She hired a magician and a man with lizards and snakes—so many snakes—and she shuddered as the snakes were brought out, one by one, but Adriano wasn’t afraid and wanted to handle them. She watched, heart in her mouth, as a boa wrapped around him, coil after coil, and nodded at Gio when she couldn’t bear it any longer.

The chef made Adriano’s favorite pasta and pizza, and there was cake and gelato for dessert. Clare had gifts for him, his first bike along with a new football. Some of the staff had small gifts, as well. Adriano seemed happy and as Clare tucked him into bed that night he gave her a fierce hug and thanked her for his birthday party.

“You are so welcome, my love,” she answered, leaning over to kiss his forehead and then the tip of his nose. “How is it you are three already?”

He nodded somberly. “I know. I’m old now.”

She laughed and then tears started to her eyes. She couldn’t bear to admit it, but she’d also half expected Rocco to show today. The fact that he didn’t come hurt nearly as bad as the day she left him. She knew she’d told him to stay away, but surely he might have come just to wish Adriano happy birthday?

The fact that he hadn’t come, the fact that he’d given them up, the fact that he hadn’t fought for them spoke volumes.

She’d hoped...needed—no, she couldn’t keep wishing. It was over. The past was over. It was time to move forward with the divorce.

She’d held off from filing for divorce for reasons she couldn’t explain, but it was time. Rocco had been gone for months. She’d felt numb for months. Where had all the happiness gone? What had happened to all those beautiful dreams?

She kissed Adriano again and then left him snug in his bed. She was fighting tears as she exited his room, and gave Ava a watery smile as she passed her. Clare didn’t want to cry. Crying solved nothing.

In her bedroom she lay down on her bed and pressed her pillow to her cheek. Tears streaked down her face and worn out, she let them fall.

Marius’s death was a freak accident, but Rocco wasn’t dead. Rocco was alive and doing his thing, living his best life in Rome. So why didn’t he make an appearance today for Adriano’s birthday? Why didn’t he call? Why abandon Adriano?

And then the littlest voice whispered inside her head,Why abandon me?

For the first time since that terrible day at the palazzo, Clare hated that they weren’t raising Adriano together, and wondered why they couldn’t raise him together.

Why couldn’t they have managed to be mature adults and do what was best for Adriano? It’s why they’d married—to take care of him. But they were failing him. They weren’t doing their best for him, or by him.

For the first time in months, Clare didn’t block out Rocco. She didn’t want to pretend he was gone. Dead. He wasn’t dead.

She was so tired of feeling heartsick, so tired of the anger and pain, the grief and disbelief. Why couldn’t they come together on special occasions and celebrate Adriano’s milestones? Why couldn’t they try to be good parents...a loving family?

Clare suddenly wanted to speak with him. Worse, she missed him. She missed his scars and his broken parts, his fierceness and his passionate heart. Rocco wasn’t perfect, but he loved her...and she wasn’t over him, and she didn’t know if she could ever forgive him, but at the same time, she couldn’t forget him.

It was so confusing, so consuming. She didn’t want to love him anymore, but she did. She wanted to let go of the anger and be civil with him, have a civil relationship for Adriano’s sake. If it was possible. Could it be possible?

Perhaps seeing Rocco would give her answers. Maybe a conversation would provide some closure, at least romantically. There had been no closure with Marius. One moment he was there, and the next he was gone. But Rocco...she should talk to him and try to come to an understanding which would allow Adriano to be loved by both of them instead of being in the middle. He shouldn’t be in the middle.

Clare pushed the notification on her phone, alerting Gio she needed him. It wasn’t the panic alert, but the alert requesting his presence.

Gio was at her door in minutes. Clare welcomed him into her living room. “I need your help,” she said. “Can you find out something for me?”

“Of course.”

“I want you to drive me to the city tomorrow, but I’m not sure if Rocco will be at his office or at his home. Could you find out where he’ll be and take me to him, please?”

Gio hesitated. “He’s not in Rome. He closed his offices in Rome months ago.”

---