Brunetti's Secret Son

As predicted, Lucca turned hysterical at the idea of his father leaving. Maisie watched, a stone lodged in her throat, as Romeo hugged him on the tarmac and reassured him that his absence wouldn’t be a long one. After several minutes, Lucca calmed down and Romeo strode to where she stood.

He handed Lucca over, his hand lingering on his son before his jaw clenched. ‘I’ll be in touch in the next few days, a week at the most, to arrange a time to see him. And I’ll call him tonight.’

‘Um...sure.’

With another look at his son, Romeo turned and walked back into his plane.

Maisie stood frozen, her mind reeling at the thought that her marriage was ending right then and there, on a painfully bright summer’s day in Dublin.

She clutched Lucca closer as he whimpered at his departing father. Romeo disappeared, and Lucca began to weep.

Forcing herself to move, she strapped him into his seat in the sleek car waiting for them, then buckled herself in next to him.

The sun was still shining when they pulled up outside her restaurant despite it being evening. Unable to face going in, she waved at a gawping Lacey and went straight up to her apartment. Her heart sank when a knock came at the door less than an hour later.

She opened it to Bronagh, who was trying hard to pretend she wasn’t shocked to see her.

‘I’ve just put Lucca down for the night. Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?’ Maisie offered.

‘Tea is great, but you look like you need something stronger.’ Bronagh held out a bottle of red wine, the concern she was trying to hide finally breaking through.

By her third glass, Maisie had broken down and spilled every last pathetically needy feeling.

‘So...what are you going to do?’ Bronagh asked when Maisie stopped to toss back another fortifying gulp of wine.

Maisie looked up. ‘Oh, please don’t worry that I’m going to take over again at the restaurant. To be honest, I could do with the break.’

Bronagh shook her head. ‘That wasn’t what I meant. What are you going to do about Romeo?’

Maisie frowned. ‘What do you mean? It’s over.’

‘You really think so? From what you said he didn’t have to marry you. This is the twenty-first century and he’s rich enough to afford a dozen armies to protect you and Lucca if he wanted to without putting a ring on your finger.’ She nodded to Maisie’s hand. ‘And you’re still wearing your wedding rings. Is he still wearing his?’

Maisie nodded abstractedly and frowned at the sparkling rings. ‘What are you saying?’

Bronagh shrugged. ‘That things seem awfully unresolved for two people hell-bent on chucking in the towel so quickly.’

‘I’m not... I wasn’t... He only wants sex.’ She blushed and drank some more wine.

‘Of course he does. Sex is the easiest way to hide deeper emotion, that’s why it’s called angry sex, rebound sex, make-up sex...need I go on?’

Miserably, Maisie shook her head.

Bronagh laid a gentle hand on her arm. ‘You haven’t known a lot of love in your life, but then neither has he. One of you has to be brave enough to scratch beneath the surface.’

‘Why do I have to do the scratching?’ Maisie blurted. ‘Just because he thinks I’m a wildcat in bed doesn’t mean... God! I can’t believe I just said that.’

Bronagh laughed and rose. ‘I think the jet lag and wine are doing their job. Get some sleep. I’ll take the monitor with me when I go downstairs in case Lucca wakes up.’

Maisie hugged her friend, her thoughts rioting as she prepared for bed. When she lay wide awake three hours later, she wasn’t surprised.

Bronagh’s words raced through her mind.

While she didn’t think she’d misinterpreted her conversations with Romeo, was it possible she’d blinded herself to a different possibility?

Could she guide Romeo into loving her? He might have been devoid of love before he’d arrived on her doorstep three weeks ago, but Maisie had seen what he felt for his son. And Romeo hadn’t rejected the love that poured from Lucca. Surely he couldn’t rule it out of his life for ever?

Turning over, she exhaled slowly, careful not to let too much hope take root.

When Romeo arrived on Saturday, she would try to broach the subject, see if there was a glimmer of anything worth pursuing.

Except Romeo didn’t come on Saturday. He sent Emily and a team of bodyguards after calling with his apologies. He’d established a routine with Lucca where they video-called for half an hour in the morning and half an hour in the evening. His greetings to Maisie when she connected his calls were cool and courteous. Any attempt at a conversation was quickly curbed with a demand for his son.