Living the Charade

‘I can’t. I—’ She hesitated, fear of being ridiculed stopping her from exposing exactly how she felt, but knowing she loved him too much just to walk away without trying. ‘I want more than you’re prepared to give.’

He raked back his hair in frustration. ‘How much more?’

‘I want love. I never thought I did, and I’m still afraid of it, but you’ve made me see that working so hard, cutting myself off from my true passions, from my feelings, is living half a life. I’m sure I won’t be any good at a real relationship, but I’m ready to try.’

He turned his head to the side, his expression hard. ‘I can’t give you that. I don’t do permanence.’

Miller smiled weakly, her heart breaking. ‘I know. That’s why I didn’t ask it of you. But thank you for last weekend. For this week. And good luck tomorrow.’

‘Fine.’ His voice was harsh, grating. He cleared his throat. ‘Tell Mickey when you want to organise the jet.’

Miller felt her lower lip wobble and turned away before the tears in her eyes spilled over. It didn’t get much more definitive than that.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WHEN Miller disappeared from view Tino stalked off without a clear destination in mind, burning with anger. Didn’t she know what a concession he had made for her? What he had just offered her?

Tino stopped when he found himself outside on a tiered balcony, staring sightlessly at the glittering city lights.

Thank God she hadn’t taken him up on his offer. What had he been thinking? He never took a woman on tour.

‘I’m probably not the best person to follow you out here, but I know at least out of respect you won’t walk off on me.’

Valentino turned to find his mother standing behind him.

‘Want to talk about it?’

No, he didn’t want to talk about it.

‘Thanks, but I’m fine, Ma.’

‘Don’t ask me how this works.’ His mother stepped closer. ‘But a mother always knows when one of her children is lying. Even when they’re fully grown.’

Valentino blew out a breath and tipped his head to the starry sky. He really didn’t want his mother bothering him right now, and he cursed himself for not leaving when he’d had the chance.

‘Ma—’

His mother held her hand up in an imperious way that reminded him of Miller. ‘Don’t brush me off, darling. I once let your father go into a race in turmoil, and I won’t let my son do the same if I can help it.’

Valentino stared down at the tiny woman who had the strength and fortitude of an ox, and his anger morphed into something else. Something that felt a little like despair.

She stood beside him and the silence stretched taut until he couldn’t stand it any more. ‘You found it hard to be married to Dad with his job. I know you did.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you ask him to quit?’ Valentino heard the pain in his voice and did his best to mask it. ‘He would have done it for you.’

She regarded him steadily. ‘You’re still angry with him. With me, perhaps?’

He turned back to the lights below; cars like toys were moving in a steady stream along the throughways. Miller had said he was angry and right now he felt angry, so what was the point in denying it?

‘I never realised just how much you closed yourself off from us after your father died.’ His mother’s soft voice penetrated the sluggish fog of his mind. ‘You were always so serious. So controlled. But somehow you were still able to make us laugh.’

She offered him a sad smile that held a wealth of remembered pain.

‘I can see now it was your way of dealing with your pain, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there more for you right after it happened.’

Valentino raked an unsteady hand through his hair. ‘He always acted so bloody invincible and I...’ He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. ‘I stupidly believed him.’

‘Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. And I must have only made it worse by relying on you so heavily after his death because I thought you understood.’

Valentino felt something release and peel open deep inside him. Clasping his mother’s shoulders, he drew her into his arms. ‘I’m not angry at you, Ma.’

‘Not any more, hmmm?’

He heard her sniff and tightened his embrace. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass to you and to Tom. I treated him appallingly when he dutifully drove me to go-cart meets every month, stood in the wings of every damned race.’ He stopped, unable to express his remorse at the way he had treated his mother’s second husband.