‘He was very kind,’ said Rose colourlessly. ‘And,’ she added with more bite, ‘I would have been a bit lost in Florence if he hadn’t turned up.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Charlotte remorsefully. ‘But if Dante looked after you it all worked out in the end.’
‘As did your problem,’ Rose pointed out. ‘You were mad to think Fabio would cheat on you!’
‘Hormonal, not mad.’ Charlotte drew in an audible breath. ‘I behaved like a total idiot because—wait for the roll of drums—I’m pregnant at last.’
Rose gave a screech of delight. ‘Oh, Charlotte, how wonderful. I’m so happy for you. Have you told your father?’
‘No. I’ll ring him right away now I’ve told you. I waited until I was absolutely sure before spreading the glad news. I didn’t even tell Fabio until we were in New York.’
‘But surely he was wondering?’
‘Of course he was, but I’ve been late before so he was afraid to say a word, especially because I’d been a bit standoffish with him due to my crazy suspicions. But now I’m so happy I don’t even mind the morning sickness part—at least not too much.’ Charlotte came to a halt. ‘So, Rose, are you still mad at me?’
‘For giving me a luxury, all-expenses-paid holiday in one of the most beautiful cities in the world? No, Signora Vilari, I’m not. Now, hurry up and ring Tom so I can share the glad news with Mum.’
* * *
Once the excitement about Charlotte’s news had died down Rose was soon back in her usual dual role of mother and businesswoman, until Dante rang one morning to say he would be with her the next day to take her out to dinner. She stiffened her resolve and told him that she was working and wouldn’t be available.
‘Is this true, Rose, or do you mean you have no wish to see me?’
She sighed. ‘All right, I’m not working, but I think it’s best we don’t see each other again.’
There was silence on the line for a moment. ‘I frightened you with my kiss?’
‘Of course not. The thing is, Dante, I’m grateful for the time you took to show me round Florence, but it was just a one-off kind of thing.’
‘You are refusing to see me any more?’ he demanded, his voice hard.
‘Yes. I am. You live in Italy and I live here, so it would be pointless, anyway.’
‘Allora, you have not forgiven me.’
‘For what, exactly?’ she snapped.
‘For making love to you and then leaving you so suddenly that night.’
‘Oh, that. No forgiveness necessary. These things happen.’
‘If not that, then I demand to know what is wrong, Rose.’
‘Do you, indeed! Goodbye, Dante.’ Rose switched off her phone and slumped down on the sofa, determined not to cry. She’d done enough crying over Dante Fortinari in the past. But no matter how hard she tried to control them, the tears came pouring down her face just the same and she had to do some hasty face scrubbing in case Bea saw Mummy crying.