‘One, it is a very recent engagement, and two, you didn’t bother to tell me you were marrying Pierre or Stavros until after you’d married them.’
As the crowd by the cathedral was growing, Dante thought it past time to cut the conversation short and reclaimed Aislin’s hand to join the congregation.
Once they were seated and waiting for the bride to make her grand entrance, both of them making a beeline for the back of the cathedral, Aislin immediately whispered, ‘What did I miss?’
He filled her in briefly.
‘So she’s dumped your stepdad for a richer widower?’ she summarised.
‘They don’t call her the Black Widow for nothing,’ he said shortly. ‘Pierre is her fifth husband and about to become considerably poorer, like all the husbands before him, my father included.’
The orchestra began to play the tune to mark the bride’s arrival and the congregation rose to its feet.
After Cristina had made the long walk down the aisle and they’d sat back down for the priest to begin his sermon, Aislin asked quietly, ‘How old were you when your mother left?’ The woman on her other side was dealing with a fractious baby, its noise enough to cover any illicit conversation.
‘Seven.’
‘Did she leave because she found out about my mother being pregnant by your father?’
‘I don’t know why she left.’
Her heart clenched for the abandoned boy. ‘Have you never asked?’
‘No. She left. End of story.’
‘Do I have to worry about her scratching my eyes out when she discovers who I am? And she will discover it. Someone is bound to tell her.’
‘She’s more likely to be curious about you.’ He closed his eyes and took a long inhale. ‘To be fair to my mother, she’s not a cruel woman. She wouldn’t blame you for your mother’s sin.’
‘My mother’s sin?’ Her eyes turned to lasers. ‘My mother was nineteen when your father seduced her.’
He sighed. ‘I didn’t mean to put the finger of blame on her. I didn’t know she was that young.’
She was silent for a moment. ‘To be fair to your father, from what our mother told us, she knew he was married.’
He asked one of the many questions he’d been denying to himself that he was curious about. ‘Do you know how they met?’
‘She was on holiday with some girlfriends here in Sicily. Your father knew the owner of their hotel. He saw my mum sunbathing by the pool and it was lust at first sight.’ Her eyes hardened. ‘It was supposed to be a holiday romance but they were careless. They agreed she would raise Orla and his only contribution would be financial. It suited them both. Poor Orla, she wanted so badly to know him, but was never allowed.’
The priest finished his sermon and invited the congregation to their feet to sing a hymn. The words were in Latin but Aislin knew the tune and happily joined in.
Mass had been a huge part of her childhood and this ceremony, although conducted in a different language, had the same feel to it.
Four rows in front of them, she could see Immacolata Whatever-Her-Surname-Currently-Was belting the hymn out with the best of them.
‘Did you see much of your mother after she left?’ she asked when they were again invited to sit back down.
‘Some. She moved to Florence. I would stay with her for weekends and some holidays.’
Aislin thought of her father. Their relationship had been similar but she had no memory of living with him so had never missed him as a permanent presence. ‘You must have missed her.’
He shrugged. ‘I would have missed my father more if he’d left.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She squeezed his fingers, thinking how hard it must be for him. Here she was rabbiting on about their families and the past when he was still dealing with his grief at losing his father and coping with the secrets and lies that had been revealed. ‘Do you think she knew that you would miss your father more and that’s why she left you with him?’
‘I think she was thinking only of herself. Mothers are supposed to nurture. Mine is only interested in nurturing her fingernails. It goes against her grain. It always did.’
She gave him a rueful smile. ‘My mother’s not really the nurturing type either, in case you hadn’t realised.’