Happy Mother's Day!

Is he talking about me? Am I his one chance at happiness?

‘After you had gone I just sat there on the bed expecting that you would walk in any moment.

‘It was a crushing blow when you didn’t and … well, I have told you how I spent our time apart.’

‘That night in Venice, when I went back to the room I recognised even then that my jealousy was the cause of the problem. I planned to discuss it with you, but when the minutes ticked by, well … it felt that something was dying inside me.’ She gave a great gulp and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘I thought you didn’t care,’ she admitted, her voice cracking. ‘That I’d pushed you into another woman’s arms.’

With a cry, Francesco reached for her own hand resting in the hollow of her back, the other cradling the back of her head. ‘I felt the same way,’ he admitted, brushing her hair back from her brow and raining reverent kisses on the smooth skin he had exposed.

‘But if I had trusted you, if I hadn’t let my wretched imagination go wild … we would never …’

He silenced her protest with a kiss so achingly tender that it brought fresh tears to Erin’s eyes. With a sigh she sagged against him, her face pressed into his chest while he murmured soft endearments and kissed her hair. It was some time later that they moved by mutual consent towards the big metal-studded door.

‘I hope you’ll approve of what I’ve done to our home, Erin.’

Her ability to think straight blasted into oblivion by the amazing things he had just said, she nodded. Her legs felt so weak with reaction to the revelations of the last few minutes that she needed the support of the hand in the small of her back that guided her towards the massive front door.

‘You know how you said a baby grand would look good in the summer sitting room when it had a roof?’

She tilted an enquiring look up at him.

‘Well, it now has a roof and a baby grand.’

She was laughing when she walked through the door. She was laughing all the way up to the point someone screamed ‘Surprise!’ and what seemed like hundreds of people leapt out laughing and shouting and in some cases waving banners.

‘Dio mio …!’ Francesco gritted through clenched teeth as he pulled her into his side. ‘I swear to you, cara I had no idea. If I had I would have hired stunt doubles for the occasion.’

‘Don’t scowl,’ she said, sticking a warning elbow in his side and hiding her own dismay and frustration behind a smile. ‘They’re trying to be nice.’

‘Best not to mention the rough flight to my mother,’ Francesco said as a middle-aged couple approached.

Looking curiously at the distinguished-looking man with the mane of white hair, Erin knew exactly what her husband would look like in thirty years’ time. The woman with the gentle eyes and a sweet smile was leaning lightly on a cane. There were tears in her eyes as she embraced first Erin and then Francesco.

‘At last we meet. She is so lovely, Francesco, and that hair … we are so happy about the baby.’

‘I want you both to know,’ Alberto said, clapping his son warmly on the shoulder, ‘that this was not my idea.’ His grimace took in the entire heaving room. ‘If anyone ever thinks about doing this to me.’

‘Do not be tiresome, Alberto,’ recommended Sabina Romanelli. ‘Livia thought it would be nice for Erin to meet the family.’

‘Because she got out of hospital and it would be so restful,’ said Francesco at his most sardonic.

‘I think it’s a lovely idea,’ Erin said.

‘You’re lying through your lovely teeth, but, if that’s the way you want to play it, fine—I’m throwing you to the wolves. I warn you, Erin, not everyone survives the Romanelli initiation ritual. She thinks I’m joking,’ he said to his father.

‘They’ll suck you dry and spit you out,’ the elder Romanelli said straight-faced.

It was easy to see where Francesco got his sense of humour from.

‘Good luck, cara!’ Francesco whispered in her ear the moment before she was whisked away.

It was a good hour later before she saw Francesco again. The smile of welcome on her face faded when she saw his expression.

‘What,’ he demanded, ‘do you think you’re doing?’ ‘Doing?’ Erin said, mystified by his attitude. ‘I’m not doing anything.’

He shook his dark head in disbelief. ‘You really are unbelievable,’ he said, forcibly removing the fretful toddler she was jiggling on one hip from her arms. ‘You had surgery a few days ago and you’re pregnant. Lugging a little monster like this around is not what I’d call lots of rest and relaxation.’

‘He’s not heavy,’ Erin protested.