She finished by blowing a kiss at screen.
It landed straight in Gabe’s chest.
She moved forward to stop the recording and something caught his eye – a familiar pattern of wallpaper, that which covered the walls of the morning room. It was where Gianfelice had read the paper at the start of every day, hence ‘the morning room’. He’d liked it because it was near the pool, and he could sit there and catch up on business news while watching the boys swim laps.
His heartrate kicked up a gear.
Something was pushing at the back of his mind. A memory or realisation, something demanding his concentration, but it was like trying to grab soap in the bath; he couldn’t quite grasp it.
He rewatched the video, her words breathing through him.
In the small hours of the morning, he woke with a start.
Holy hell.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, replaying his conversation with Nico, remembering the frustration he’d felt at having been accosted by every member of his family throughout the day and asked to define his relationship with Isabella. He’d become impatient. Some things were impossible to describe; the invasiveness of demanding he discuss intimate details of his life had made him snap.
She’s been a welcome distraction. A beautiful, pleasing distraction.
She means nothing to me.
I would have thrown her out if I could have.
I’ll be glad when she’s gone.
I felt sorry for her.
She means nothing to me.
He didn’t need to wonder if she’d heard. Even as she’d left he’d known something had happened. She’d been completely different with him, as though a switch had been flicked and she was no longer herself. She’d looked at him as though they were strangers.
Could he blame her? The words that had come out of his mouth had betrayed everything – everything – they’d shared.
He swore into the room as he stood, his body ramrod straight, his expression haunted.
She had nowhere else to go, what was I meant to do?
He’d made it sound like she’d tagged along to their family Christmas, as though he hadn’t wanted her there at all, when having her with him at Villa Fortune had meant something to him. Just because he hadn’t wanted to share his feelings with his cousins and brothers didn’t invalidate the sentiment. He’d wanted her with him.
She’d heard what he’d said though. He’d hurt her. Just like he’d known he would.
I hope you have someone in your life to love – it really is the greatest gift.
His blood was running hot and cold, a fever taking over his bloodstream. Hell. Everything was falling apart.
In the kitchen, he made a strong black coffee. She was all over his machine. He touched it and felt her touch. He caressed the coffee cup and imagined her hands on it.
He needed to see her, that much was obvious. He had to apologise for what he’d said, and to explain that he’d been wanting to close down his family’s questions, nothing more. He’d said things that weren’t true simply to get them off his back, simply because he didn’t want anyone else interfering in what they shared.
He dragged a hand over his stubbled jaw, staring out of the window.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, loaded up an email and then stared blankly at the screen. For God’s sake. He made multi-million dollar deals for breakfast, was he actually afraid to email this woman?
Apparently so. He put his phone away, threw back his coffee then stalked towards the front door. Pausing just long enough to slip on a coat and boots and grab the keys she’d left, he crossed the snow-covered forest until he reached the embankment. Her car was visible now, though the front-half was still partially covered in snow. Something like anger cut through him – how could she possibly have attempted to traverse these roads in this tiny, narrow-tyred vehicle? Anger with the hire company and anyone who’d seen her driving and not told her to steer clear of the mountains filled his eyes with a red mist. His shoulders squared resolutely, he clicked the button on the keys, unlocking the car, then popping the boot.
Her suitcase was bright pink with stickers all over it – daisies and pictures of the sun. He pulled it out, placing it on the snow before methodically going through the vehicle and removing anything else of hers. She was with him the whole time, her presence like a whisper in his ears.
Now, he knew what to write.
Date: 29 December
Subject: Your suitcase
Isabella,
Where are you staying in New York? I’ll get your suitcase to you.
Gabe.
It wasn’t exactly poetry, but at this stage, it was the best he could give. He didn’t want to anger her further with any more mixed messages.
He didn’t hear back for hours. Gabe used the time to organise a tow truck for the hire car and deal with the rental company. It was the kind of logistical exercise he relished. Black and white, detail orientated, one foot after another until it was dealt with.
Sometime after lunch, an email pinged on his phone. He clicked into it faster than lightning.
Date: 29 December
Subject: RE:Your suitcase
Hi Gabe,
I’ve bought what I need so the suitcase can go to my assistant in Australia.
PO BOX 382-1a, Broadbeach, QLD.
As I said, naturally I’ll cover any costs incurred. Please forward her an invoice.
Thanks,
Isabella.
He made a guttural noise of frustration and put his phone down far too heavily, glowering at the window. He’d wondered if she might do something like that – and he’d been right.
She obviously wanted nothing more to do with him, and he couldn’t even blame her. The things he’d said about her and their relationship had painted it in the worst possible light. He’d just wanted people to stop asking him about her and their relationship, that was all.
A long time ago, Gabe had made the decision that he didn’t deserve
