His Lost-and-Found Bride

The almost transparent skin. The tiny little blue veins underneath. She could remember how she’d had to gently ease up a tiny eyelid in order to see her baby’s eyes. Eyes that would never see the world.

Lungs that would never fill with air.

She could remember all her hopes and dreams for the future evaporate with the silence in the air. The heavy, ominous silence of nothing.

Her horror had been so complete she’d only been able to shed a few tears. Tears of shock. It had been as if every emotion in her body had switched off. Gone into complete self-protection mode.

Now Logan was trying to open her all up to this again.

‘Maybe I decided that wasn’t what I wanted.’ The words came out tight, almost angry, and Logan eyebrows arched slowly.

‘You were made to be a mother, Lucia.’ He held her gaze as she tried to swallow. ‘You would be the finest mother in the world.’

She was frozen. Couldn’t breathe. Her mouth had never felt so dry, but the aroma of coffee was acrid to her now. The croissant mocked her.

Some modern career women would find his words insulting. But she didn’t. Logan knew her better than anyone. He knew how much she’d relished being pregnant. He knew how much she’d planned for their daughter—they both had.

Although she was passionate about her career, she’d longed to raise their daughter.

She lifted her coffee cup with trembling hands. ‘Things change.’

He shook his head and reached across the table towards her.

But she didn’t want him to touch her. She couldn’t take the feel of his skin on hers right now.

He leaned his elbows on the table and just kept talking. ‘I’ve dreamt of being a father too. But it’s never happened. It wasn’t meant to happen—not with anyone but you.’

He said the words so easily. As if he’d contemplated them for a long time and had come to accept that this was his lot in life.

‘I’ve met some wonderful women, but none that I wanted to marry, none that I wanted to raise children with. I only ever wanted to do that with you.’

She could feel the anger build in her chest. ‘But we never planned Ariella Rose. You make it sound as if we had our future all written out.’ She spat the words at him.

She couldn’t understand how he could talk about any of this so calmly. It felt as if he’d reached a fist into her chest and was squeezing all the blood from her pumping heart.

‘My future was written the second I saw you, Lucia.’ He hadn’t raised his voice once. His words were calm and steady. He was so resolute.

She leaned across the table towards him. ‘I can’t talk about this,’ she hissed.

It was the first time she saw a little spark in him. He gritted his teeth. ‘Well, you have to. It’s about time. You owe it to our daughter.’

She pulled back as if he’d wounded her. But Logan wasn’t finished. ‘You owe it to our daughter to talk about her and give her the love and respect she deserves.’

Her head was swimming. ‘How dare you! You know I loved Ariella.’

‘But you don’t honour her memory.’

‘What does that mean?’

Logan rubbed the palms of his hand on his trousers. It was obvious this was upsetting him just as much as it was upsetting her.

He took a deep breath. ‘It means you walked away, Lucia. You walked away from the memory of our daughter and the memory of what we used to have. I think about her every single day. It doesn’t matter that you’re in Venice and she’s in Tuscany. I visit her grave every month. You could too. But as far as I know you haven’t been there since the day we buried her.’

Fury erupted inside her. Tears were brimming in her eyes but they just couldn’t come any further—she hadn’t been able to cry since the day they’d buried their daughter. From that point on everything had been locked inside.

‘I can’t go there. I can’t visit.’

‘Why?’ He wouldn’t stop. He wasn’t going to let this go. It would have been better if they’d never seen each other again. The last thing she needed was stirring up the memories of Ariella Rose and any association with Logan did just that.

She wasn’t able to separate the parts of him from their daughter. She couldn’t just remember his kiss, his touch without remembering where it had led them. Couldn’t block out all the pain it had caused.

‘I just can’t.’

‘Then maybe that’s what we should do.’

She felt herself bristle. ‘Don’t tell me what to do, Logan. We haven’t known each other in a long time—you have no right.’

He stood up sharply, his chair screeching backwards, and she held her breath, wondering what would come next. The waiter stuck his head out of the door of the restaurant, watching carefully.

But Logan just shook his head, stretched out his back, then took a few steps towards her and knelt beside her chair.

She was still holding her breath as he slid his hand up and took hers. She hadn’t realised it but her hands were cold and the warmth from him completely enveloped her.

His voice was quiet again, this time almost pleading. ‘I have every right. We lost our daughter together. Who do you think I get to talk about Ariella Rose with? Who do I get to share the memories of our daughter with? I want to remember what we lost, Lucia. I loved her with every part of my heart—just as you did.’ He sighed and looked up, meeting her gaze.

‘This isn’t just about you any more, Lucia. It was twelve years ago. I would have done anything to help you grieve, to comfort you after the loss of our daughter. But I’ve realised this is about me too. It wasn’t enough just to make the arrangements. It wasn’t enough to say a prayer. It wasn’t about giving you the space you needed. I watched you fall apart right under my nose, I watched you shut yourself off from the world and bury yourself away. I thought I had no right to force you to talk. I thought I had to let you do this your own way. But twelve years on? I was wrong, Lucia. I was very wrong. For you, and for me.’

She squeezed her eyes closed again. She couldn’t take his intense and sincere glance. This was exactly what she’d always tried to avoid.

It had been too much. Too much to think about. She couldn’t bear it.

And now here was Logan—her strong, able Logan—telling her how much he’d been hurt too. He’d never worn his heart so much on his sleeve as he was doing now and it was tearing her apart.

She’d never even contemplated his hurt. His grief. She’d been too selfishly trying to cope with her own. Logan had appeared so composed, so strong. Now his face looked as if it had worn a river of grief across it. She could see her own pain reflected in his eyes, the tight grip of her hand telling her more than she wanted to know.

‘You have to face this, Lucia. You’re never going to get past this, I’m never going to get past this, if we can’t talk together.’

Logan. Her handsome, strong Logan. She’d always hoped he would have married and had kids. He deserved to be a father. He deserved to spend his summer evenings playing in a garden, with his arms wrapped around the woman that he loved.

Twelve years ago she’d hoped that might be her.

* * *

He still wanted to save her. Even after all these years he wanted to patch her up and put her together again. But he couldn’t do it then. And he couldn’t do it now.

But things were different now. He’d realised how much he still hurt.

It didn’t matter if Lucia wrapped her arms around his neck right now and told him she wanted to try and make things work again. It didn’t matter that she might want a future with them together.

Now he’d realised exactly what he needed. For him. And for her.

He lifted his hand then ran his fingers through her hair at the side of her head. ‘I loved Ariella Rose. I loved it that

her eyes were so dark blue, though they probably would have turned brown—just like yours. I loved the fine downy hair we could see on her head. I loved that her fingers and toes were perfect. I dream about the person she could have become. And I wonder about the type of personality she would have had.’

He moved his fingers down her cheek. ‘I wonder if she would have been like me, or if she would have been like you.’