Page 48 of The Convenient Cosentino Wife

“Like you have to do?”

“Yes,” she answered, “but I don’t travel as much. I prefer working from here. That way I can be with you every day.”

Adriano thought about this. “He should do that, too. Work here, so he could see us.”

She said nothing. What could she say?

“Or does he not want to see us?” he asked, turning to look up at her, shadows in his beautiful brown eyes. “Does he not want us anymore?”

“He will always love you,” she said, hoping the answer would appease him.

Adriano fidgeted. “We should go see him. Go to the palazzo. Maybe he forgot about us. Maybe—”

“He’s not in Rome anymore.”

“No?”

Clare shook her head. “I’m not sure where he is, maybe Argentina, to take care of your father—” she broke off, bit her lip. “The grapes and the house in Mendoza. You have land and beautiful estates waiting for you there, and vineyards and horses. Remember, you are not just Italian, you are also Argentinian.”

“And American,” he said. “You are American, remember?”

Clare smiled even as her eyes burned, gritty with tears. Her clever, beautiful boy. “How could I forget?”

She’d found him.

Or more correctly, Gio had found him, and Clare had been wrong. Rocco was not in Argentina but in the Caribbean, on his island.

She made arrangements to travel the next day, leaving Adriano with Ava and Gio at the villa, knowing he’d be safe with them.

Clare packed lightly, and slept poorly, ready to go. She didn’t know what she’d say to him once she saw him, but figured those words would come. For now, she just needed to get there.

The ten-hour flight felt endless. She struggled to relax, and when she couldn’t nap, watched a movie on the plane’s individual movie screen and when that and dinner were over, tried to work. She went through paperwork checking numbers and dates, and then did some reading on her laptop, but she couldn’t stay focused, the words dancing around on the screen.

Would Rocco be glad to see her?

What would they say to each other?

It turned out to be easy, once she was in front of him. Anger filled her, anger that he’d promised to care for Adriano and then he’d so quickly abandoned him. “You missed Adriano’s birthday,” Clare said, voice low. “He turned three just a few weeks ago. May fourteenth—”

“I know. I was there. I came to the villa but was turned away.”

She looked at him, astonished. “No one said anything to me.”

“Your security is very good and very efficient. I’d hoped Gio would speak to you, but apparently your word is law.”

She flinched, hating the sound of that, thinking it made her sound like her father, and he was the last person she wanted to be like. “I wish I’d known. He’d wanted to see you. Adriano asked about you all week and then—” she broke off swallowed, terribly remorseful. “He was disappointed, and I tried to make light of it, but I was wrong. It was a mistake. I’ve always sworn that I would put him first and I haven’t put him first. I had married you so he could have a father, but then I pushed you away.”

There was only silence and the silence was heavy and uncomfortable. After a long time Rocco spoke, “But if it is better for him...if Adriano is doing better without me—”

“He’s not.” Clare swallowed, deeply ashamed. “He has missed you and I thought by now the missing would have eased, that he might have stopped speaking of you so often but it hasn’t happened.”

She turned and looked across the room, at the place where they had been so happy back in October. The island had been such a lovely getaway for all of them. There had been few distractions, but they hadn’t needed distractions. They had been happy just being together. “I’ve been selfish. Heady. It was one thing for me to tell you to go away, but it was another for me to make that decision so abruptly for Adriano. I’m not sure how to fix it, but I think something has to be done. Perhaps he could come here and see you, spend some time with you—”

“Without you?” Rocco asked.

Her forehead creased, pain splintering through her heart. “I don’t know how to make this work. I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know how to navigate this next part.”

“You don’t think you could forgive?”

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