Though Carlo and Trey were in public, playing surrounded by people, she had the impression she was watching an intimate moment between father and son. He was such a good father. Even in the few moments she’d seen him with his son, she could tell it was true. It was in the ease they shared, in the way Trey looked at him, and the way Carlo looked back. And in the way he talked about his child. It all made Sabina’s heart hurt. She would have loved to have had the chance to be a mother. But James loathed children.
And because he did, he’d seen to it that Sabina could not have any.
As that bleak thought brought a heavy cloud over her otherwise bright day, Sabina finished the rest of her beer. The tasty, amber liquid pushed the cloud away, but she squirmed a little. She’d had three beers, courtesy of Luca, and though they’d made her feel content and relaxed, she now had to relieve herself.
She turned to Carmen and found Carlo’s sister watching her, a crease between her brows. “Okay?”
“Yes, thank you. I only—may I use your facilities?”
“Sure—in the house, at the back, just off the kitchen. Take your shoes off before you go in. Please.”
Sabina smiled at the way the word ‘please’ had seemed to cling to Carmen’s tongue. There was a word in English for the kind of woman Carmen was, she thought. She couldn’t remember it right now, but there was a word that suited her. It started with a B—but not that word. Racking her brain for it, she stood. When she did, the sand—no, the whole beach—pitched wildly under her feet, and she took an awkward step forward, toward the fire pit, into which Luca was arranging wood for what she supposed would be a forthcoming fire.
As she flailed a little to regain her balance, he jumped up and caught her, one hand on her arm, the other on her waist. “Whoa, gorgeous. You okay? Three beer limit, huh? Maybe two.”
She pushed him off. “I’m fine. The sand, it shifts.”
“Uh-huh. You need an escort?”
“No, thank you.” She walked toward the house, surprised by her need to focus on her legs. But she got there, and she toed off her Keds on the porch, only bobbling a little, and went into Carmen’s cottage.
Oh—oh. It was lovely. So lovely. Her own beach house, like the city house, was beautiful, decorated professionally and tastefully, everything in its place, as James wanted. This, though, this house was a riot of color and chaos. No piece of furniture matched any other. The walls were covered with paintings and fabric hangings in wild colors and patterns. The chairs around the dining table were each unique from the others in style and color. The small kitchen, tucked in at the back of the main space, was likewise vibrant. The cabinet bases were painted bright blue, and all the doors were different, contrasting colors. It was like a giant box of Crayolas had exploded.
Sabina’s eyes filled with tears. It was the most beautiful room she had ever seen. The riot of it literally excited her, made her heart race. By force of will alone, she resisted the urge to comb through Carmen’s private space and touch all the beautiful things. Instead, her bladder reminded her that she was on a mission, and she crossed to the back and found the bathroom, which was small and just as chaotically perfect as everything else in the house.
After she washed her hands, she checked the mirror to make sure she was presentable. It was harder to focus than she’d expected, and twice she wiped the glass to clear it before she understood that her reflection was blurry because she was drunk. This weekend was proving to be quite full of new experiences.
When she came out of the bathroom, Carlo was there, leaning against the kitchen counter. His smile was gentle. “Are you all right?”
He was so beautiful.
James was beautiful, too. Those looks had turned her head when she was young, but even now, through her hatred, she could still appreciate his physical assets. But he was beautiful in a barely real way—fair, nearly hairless, precisely sculpted, perfectly groomed—more like a marble statue than a flesh-and-blood man. His heart was marble, as well.
Carlo was dark and wild and so very real. He was a little flushed now, probably from his play with his son, and his chest still heaved slightly from his exertions. The fire of his heart illuminated his eyes.
“Bina?” He stepped forward, and she realized that she hadn’t answered him.
“You are beautiful.” It wasn’t an answer to his question, but it was the thing she’d needed to say. She closed the distance between them and put her hands on his bare chest, sliding her fingers into the light cover of dark hair over his heart.