‘Take it from me,’ Charlie said bleakly, ‘there are worse things than flying economy.’
‘Tell me that again when you finally reach Vietnam. Several hours crushed up against the person next to you while your seat is constantly kicked by the person behind and you’ll be begging for the luxury of a private jet again.’ She looked meaningfully at Charlie’s left hand, where the paler skin showed clearly where her rings had been. ‘Good thing you didn’t sell your rings yet. It will be strange wearing them again, I guess.’
Charlie’s stomach swooped and she automatically covered her left hand with her right. Taking the rings off had felt like such a huge step; she didn’t want to wear them again, perfect as they were. Because they were perfect. ‘I’ll tell him they are being resized. I’ve lost some weight over the last few months.’
‘You seem to have thought of everything. Okay, Charlie. If this is really what you feel you have to do then I’ll support you in any way you need me to. Just let me know if you need anything at all. Especially onsite support. It’d be a sacrifice for me to spend a few days in a villa in Italy but anything for you.’
‘Thank you. I can’t tell you how much better I feel with you onside.’ Another wave of weariness hit Charlie and she yawned. ‘I’d better head up; it’s been a long day and tomorrow won’t be any easier.’ She gave her cousin a quick hug and kissed her grandmother. ‘I’ll be gone very early tomorrow, but I’ll call from Amalfi. Love you.’
She made her way to the door and paused, doubt filling her. Was pretending that their marriage was still okay the right thing to do, or would this deception just lead to more heartbreak in the future? But the doctor had been very clear; Matteo needed quiet and stability. Once he was well, he’d understand. And if he didn’t? Well, what could he do to her now? His power to hurt her was over.
Or so she hoped.
* * *
‘I can’t believe Jo didn’t have a phone ready for me; she is normally so competent.’ Matteo sat back in the car, his hands idle. It felt wrong to be doing nothing; he was always holding something, a phone, a laptop, a steering wheel. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just sat with his hands heavy in his lap. He flexed them and scowled down as the bruises on his arms twinged, a reminder that this was no pleasure trip. The physical pain didn’t bother him as much as what it signified: weakness. The loss of his memory, the instructions to rest, the ceding of control all ate away at him. He shifted again, ignoring the protest in his ribs.
‘Competent doesn’t begin to describe Jo,’ Charlie said. ‘She managed to pack our suitcases, organise the plane, the car from the hospital, this car to take us to the villa, all in less than twenty-four hours. She has also made sure that the villa has been aired and stocked with everything that we need, and she offered to tell your grandfather that you need two weeks’ peace and quiet. I think you can let her off not replacing a phone within twenty-four hours. Not to mention the small fact that the doctor explicitly said no phones, remember?’
‘Okay,’ Matteo conceded. ‘You may have a point.’ He sat back and tried to concentrate on the scenery, which got even more stunning as they left Naples and its environs behind them and headed south along the famous Amalfi coastal road. But he couldn’t relax, something Charlie had said niggling away at him. ‘Didn’t you speak to my grandfather yourself?’
Charlie reached for her bag and avoided meeting his gaze, her blue eyes clouding momentarily. With a chill, the sense of wrongness Matteo had felt yesterday returned. ‘I didn’t get a chance. I’ll call him when we get to the villa.’
The sense intensified. After all, a whole year was gone from his memories, wiped away as if it had never been. Anything could have happened in that time—and, God knew, his grandfather hadn’t exactly been in the best of health last year. He’d been so angry with Matteo over his decision to marry as well, although whether it was the swiftness of the courtship or the fact that Charlie was a primary school teacher and not a tycoon or heiress, Matteo didn’t know. But he could remember all too well the choler on the old man’s face as he had shouted that Matteo was no better than his father, led by his emotions and not by his brain.
He pushed the memory away, wishing for a moment that his amnesia could have wiped that particular scene out as well. ‘Charlie, don’t hide things from me. Is there something I should know? Is he okay?’
She looked up quickly. ‘Matteo, don’t worry. He’s fine, honestly.’
‘But?’ There was more here; he’d stake his life on it.
She bit down on her lip. ‘Look, he did have a mild stroke last year, but it was very mild. That’s the reason why we left Paris early and didn’t go on our honeymoon, not a business deal like I said. But he made a full recovery and he’s back at work as belligerent and difficult and demanding as ever. Honestly, the only reason I didn’t speak to him yesterday was because by the time I’d left the hospital and made all the arrangements for today it was getting really late. And I was back on the road before breakfast. Besides…’ she grimaced ‘…you should know that I am still not his favourite person. He thinks you could have done a lot better than me. He likes Jo. She handles him better than I do.’
But Matteo could barely focus on the reassuring words, her first sentence reverberating around his aching head. ‘A slight stroke? In that case there’s no way I should take this time off; he’s going to need
