‘It’s just as I imagined it would be.’
‘It is?’
Catching her hand and knowing a fierce pleasure in keeping it in his—Fabian smiled. In her white peasant-style cotton dress with its puffed sleeves and flared skirt, her blonde hair shining and her extraordinary eyes as excited as a child’s … she was definitely molto bello …
‘Bustling, busy and everywhere you look, something beautiful or fascinating to gaze at!’
‘I cannot argue with that!’ He was looking at his wife, with frank male appreciation, and she stared back at him with an expression that was both shy and surprised.
Then she smiled and hit him playfully on the arm. ‘You know what I mean!’
‘Yes, but we have barely even started our little tour of discovery yet! There are many amazing sights in Roma to see. First of all I want to take you to a coffee bar that does the best espresso in all of Italy! It is mostly only known to locals, but I think you will like it.’
‘Well, seeing as though I’ve become a huge fan of your beloved espresso in the weeks since I’ve been here, lead on!’
In the bustling aroma-filled coffee bar, with its array of monochrome photos of 1940s and ‘50s jazz musicians adorning the walls, functional unfussy wooden tables and sturdy chairs, Fabian chose seats by the window so that Laura could sit and ‘watch the world go by’, as she so charmingly put it.
She was like an excited child today, and her enthusiasm for being in his favourite city gave him a sense of satisfaction and pleasure that took him by surprise. He also had to keep curtailing a sudden great need to touch her and hold her, and the warmth that kept invading his insides whenever his gaze met hers he stubbornly put down to excitement and pleasure—not anything more meaningful. He had been down that road of self-deception before, with Domenica, and she had exposed him for the trusting, naïve, lovestruck idiot he had been—too blinded and besotted to know that his wife was fooling around behind his back.
Swallowing down the bitter memory, Fabian nodded towards the grey-paved square outside, complete with fountain and edged by yellowed crumbling buildings with dusty and in some cases ancient shop signs.
‘This place used to be a flower and fruit market, but now the sellers have dwindled to just two or three. It is now mainly used as a meeting place for locals.’
‘You sound like you know it well?’
‘I discovered it when I was a student here. My friends and I would often meet over an espresso here, or stand in the square and put the world to rights!’
‘And what did you study?’ She leant towards him a little across the table, her glance intensely interested.
Quirking a philosophical eyebrow, Fabian grinned. ‘What else does one study in Rome?’ he asked, teasing. ‘The history of art, of course!’
‘What an amazing resource you had for your re-search!’ Laura sighed. ‘It must have been wonderful!’
‘It was.’
‘And is this where you met your ex-wife, Fabian?
In Rome?’
His chest tightened uncomfortably. ‘No. I met Domenica in Tuscany. Her father was a friend of my father’s.’
‘Domenica? That’s a beautiful name.’
‘She was a beautiful girl … but unfortunately her heart was not so beautiful.’
‘Were you—?’
‘Let us talk about something else. I do not care to dwell on the past today … only on the future.’ His tone was firm.
‘And what about the present?’ Leaning back in the straight-backed chair, Laura was reflective. ‘Time goes by so quickly, and sometimes we don’t realise that moments are passing us by because we’re not paying attention.’
‘You have clearly spent a lot of time thinking about such things, I can tell.’
‘After the accident, when I was in hospital, I had nothing but time to reflect on what life was all about. And here in the west we take so much for granted. It seems to me there’s not much point in being given the gift of life if we never even pause to reflect on what is the meaning and purpose of it.’
‘Well … not everyone is as conscious or as appreciative of the gift we have been given as you, my sweet Laura. Most people behave as though they are going to be here for ever!’
‘Sometimes it takes something momentous like an accident or an illness to wake people up. Don’t you think it would be better if they woke up to their life before that point?’
‘I am beginning to think that I have married a budding psychotherapist!’
‘I’m sorry.’ A crimson tide swept into her cheeks. ‘I tend to get a little carried away when I’m talking about these things.’
‘Do not apologise. Passion and enthusiasm are not things to be ashamed of.’ Reaching for her hand, Fabian stroked his thumb back and forth over her flawless porcelain skin. ‘I like it that you feel things so strongly.’
‘Do you?’ Suddenly still, her steady thoughtful gaze dived deep into his. ‘I thought you believed that feelings aren’t to be trusted?’
An intensely awkward few seconds ensued as Fabian fought hard to keep his treacherous feelings under control. With a self-deprecating grimace, he lifted his coffee cup in the gesture of a toast. ‘You have backed me into a corner, I fear … touché.’
‘Well …’ Her hand shook a little as Laura swept her fingers through her hair, and he saw that she was embarrassed as well as a little upset.
He silently abhorred his inability to make the kind of real connection he secretly craved with her. Then, in the next second, he told himself he would get over it. His reactions were all at sea because for the first time in months he was starting to relax, as he was here in his favourite city with the pretty, vivacious woman who was going to give him the thing that he desired most … a family. He could surely be forgiven if he didn’t feel quite himself?
‘I can’t believe we flew here in a helicopter all the way from Tuscany!’ she finished.
‘I would never make half the meetings I have on time here in Italy without it,’ Fabian replied, grateful that the tricky moment had passed.
‘It’s such a different way of life you lead, compared to my own back in the UK.’
‘And do you think you will grow to like it?’
‘I hope so.’ Some of the light seemed to go out of her mercurial eyes, and the taut muscles around his stomach clenched hard in concern.
‘You seem doubtful?’
‘It’s going to take some adjusting to, that’s all. My feet feel as if they haven’t touched the ground for quite a while! And now that the dust has started to settle I find myself wondering what a man like you—a man who could probably have anything in the world that he desired—including his pick of beautiful women—sees in a woman like me?’
Her hand was touching her fringe again as she said this, and Fabian frowned. ‘If the scar bothers you so much, I could arrange for you to see a very good plastic surgeon. I do not like it that you feel it diminishes you somehow.’
‘I don’t.’ She flushed. ‘Not really. I’ve grown to accept