Ren looked thoughtful. “Yes, I suppose you could look at it like that. A broken heart repaired by love.”
Unable to speak, Hana looked out the large window of the palacio’s grand salon, overlooking the courtyard filled with orange trees. “But if Antonio doesn’t love me...”
“There are all kinds of love.” He snorted. “Maybe he has the kind of love that made him want to smash my face in back in Tokyo.” He gave a sly grin. “Not that he would have succeeded, mind you...”
“He’s possessive, yes. He keeps what is his.” She strove to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “But that’s not love.”
Ren leaned over the coffee table. “Give him a chance, Hana. Tell him how you feel.”
“I tried, and he...he just left.”
“So try again.”
Swallowing, she lifted her gaze. “But what if he really, truly can’t love me?”
“Then at least you’ll know.” His eyes met hers. “Don’t be like me, suffering for years in silence. Find out the truth. It’s better to know, even if it hurts. It’s the only thing that can set you free from a prison of hope.”
A prison of hope. Hana shivered, looking down at her cooling tea. What a frightening thought. Even cold, awful freedom had to be better than that.
Ren looked regretfully at his watch. “I’m so sorry. I have to catch my flight to Tokyo.” He rose to his feet. “You’ll come to our wedding, won’t you?” He gave a nervous laugh. “Assuming Emika says yes.”
“Of course she’ll say yes.” Rising to her feet in turn, Hana walked him to the door. “And of course I’ll come.”
Pausing at the doorway, Ren said, “Give him another chance. Men can be fools.” He added cheerfully, “And Delacruz is the biggest fool I’ve ever met.”
“You two,” she said, rolling her eyes.
He grinned. “We both love you. In different ways.”
She returned his smile, then it faded. “He says he doesn’t.”
Ren sobered. “Maybe he doesn’t. Or maybe he wants to, but he can’t. Because of something he’s gone through. Something he’s lost,” he said quietly. “Something he needs to get over, like I needed to get over you.”
Hana thought of Antonio’s childhood, the repeated abandonment when he was a boy. She said slowly, “What if he doesn’t want to get over it?”
His eyes looked troubled. Then he shook his head. “Love can conquer anything. You’ll see.” He grinned. “Even that arrogant Spanish bastard.”
After he was gone, Hana felt alone in the big, empty room. She paced, her angry footsteps echoing against the walls.
Love could conquer anything, could it?
But it hadn’t! It couldn’t!
Could it?
She stopped, clenching her hands at her sides as she looked out the big windows at the courtyard. She took a deep breath. After everything he’d gone through, it was no wonder Antonio wouldn’t want to risk loving anyone, ever again.
If Hana could only find a way to heal him!
If he’d just been willing to learn why his parents abandoned him on those church steps the day he was born, she thought. Maybe the truth would hurt him—but like Ren had said, wouldn’t knowing be better than always wondering? A wound couldn’t heal until you removed the thing that was making it fester.
But Antonio had burned the letter. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember the doctor’s name. Moreno? Mendoza. From some funny Basque-sounding village. Eche—something.
“Did your friend leave?” Manuelita called as Hana hurried back down the hallway.
“Yes.” Going into the study, she grabbed her laptop and sat down at her husband’s desk. Opening it, she started searching online. Hours later, after her shoulders ached with being hunched over the screen, she found it.
Dr. Mendoza. Of Etxetarri.