Her New Year Baby Secret(30)

'Only if you're sure.'

'More than sure. Now go and get ready to look surprised. Au revoir.'

'Email me straight away, love you.'

'I love you too.' Sophie clicked her phone off and suppressed a sigh. It  would have been lovely to have her oldest and best friend with her when  she met her baby for the first time, but there was no way she would  butt in on Ashleigh's first Valentine's Day with Lukas.                       
       
           



       

She turned her phone over and over in her hand. She didn't have to go  alone. After all, there was someone else who was probably just as keen  to meet his baby. Their baby.

She hadn't met up with Marco at all over the last few weeks, partly  because he was travelling and partly because he seemed to be respecting  her request for space and time. It hadn't stopped him sending details  through for potential flats and houses he 'wondered' if she might find  more suitable or arranging a delivery service to supply her with  home-cooked meals she just needed to heat up. She told herself that she  should be mad at his officiousness, but she was so busy and tired the  meals were a godsend and she couldn't help but concede he had a point  about the flat. Hers was too small, too noisy and up too many flights of  stairs.

The only problem was that every property he sent her was way, way out of  her price range. She was pretty sure he was expecting to pay for  wherever she moved to and knew that unless she suddenly sold every  outfit she had made she was going to have to accept in the short-term at  least. Necessity didn't make it easy though. 'For goodness' sake,' she  told herself. 'At least he's not expecting you to support him. That's a  huge improvement, right?' But much as it made sense it still felt like  the first step on a very slippery slope.

She sighed. They did need to talk and a scan was a good, positive place  to start. Before she could change her mind she called up his name and  pressed Send. It was the right thing to do.

* * *

'Buongiorno.'

Marco scanned Sophie with a critical eye, nodding with satisfaction as  he noted the shadows had disappeared from under her eyes and her cheeks  had colour once more. Her hair was freshly washed and full of its usual  bounce and her eyes no longer had the sad, defeated look he'd taken away  with him when he'd left her a few weeks ago. 'You look beautiful.'

'Hi.' She smiled shyly at him and his heart squeezed. It had taken every  single ounce of self-control he possessed not to call her or pop round  over the last few weeks, but he had promised her, promised himself, that  he would give her the control she needed, the time she needed. It had  seemed like an eternity.

He'd thought he'd missed her when she left Italy, but that was nothing  to the way he'd felt over the last few weeks. He'd thrown himself into  work, but it had been almost impossible to concentrate when all he could  think about was how he had blown it, how he had destroyed the best  thing that had ever happened to him. Through arrogance, through  ignorance.

Marco wasn't sure when he had fallen in love with Sophie, but he did  know that this pain in his chest, the ache in his heart, the constant  knowledge that something fundamental was missing, was love. He suspected  he had fallen for her at some point in Venice. He was sure he loved her  when he'd walked away from her flat, when he knew he'd let her down and  had no idea how to fix it. When he'd decided that he had to respect her  decisions, her choices, no matter how much it hurt him to do so.

He'd hoped that it would simplify things, but, looking at her nervous  smile, he realised it complicated everything. If he told her how he  felt, he suspected she would feel manipulated, think that he was saying  what she wanted to hear, not what he felt, and after the last few weeks  he wouldn't blame her.

He usually had all the answers, but today he had nothing. 'Thank you, for asking me here today.'

'I should have given you more notice. It's lucky you were in London.'

He hadn't left London, although he'd given her the impression he was  away. He couldn't have left her if his business depended on it. What if  she needed him and he was nowhere to be found? He'd let down one family  member through pride. That was more than enough.

'I'd have found a way to get here. What do we do now?'

'We go in there, register, I have to drink lots of water and then we meet our baby. Ready?'

Our baby. The words hit him with full force. He, Marco Santoro, was  going to be a father. Excitement mingled with pride filled him and he  vowed he would do anything and everything to keep his child safe and  secure. To make him or her happy. For the first time he understood why  his mother fretted and planned and pressured him. Why his father had  insisted he knew best no matter what Marco said or felt. They too felt  this way; misguided as they might have been, they had just wanted to  protect him. He just needed to remember that his version of happiness  might not be the same as his child's. He took a deep breath. Yes, he was  ready for fatherhood and all it entailed. 'Sì, let's do this.'                       
       
           



       

* * *

'I can't believe this is our child.' Marco took another look at the black-and-white picture in disbelief.

'I know, it does look a little like an alien, doesn't it? Do you think I  got beamed up onto a spaceship and just didn't realise it?'

'Shh, the bambino will hear you. An alien indeed.' He snorted. 'With that nose? This is a Venetian baby for sure.'

'The next scan we can get in colour, you can properly see features and  everything. Did you mind that they didn't tell us the sex? We could go  for a private scan if you wanted to find out.'

Hope flared at her casual use of 'we'. 'I don't mind either way. Do you want to know?'

'Yes and no,' she admitted. 'It would be handy for names, but I'm not  really a pink for a girl, blue for a boy type. I just want it to be  healthy and happy.'

'It will be.' He knew he sounded serious, but he would lay his life down for that little alien without even blinking.

They'd reached the hospital doors and Sophie paused. 'I know you're  busy, but do you have to get back? I'm really grateful you've given me  some time, but there's a lot of things we need to talk about. It's all  feeling very real at the moment.'

'I can clear my diary.' He already had, but she didn't need to know that. 'Where do you want to go?'

'Anywhere outside. It's so nice to have a dry day after two weeks of rain, I want to take advantage of it.'

Marco agreed. The torrential downpours of the last two weeks had added  to his impatience as he'd waited for Sophie to get in touch.

'I could eat though,' she added. 'Before I kept eating to stop me  feeling sick. Now I just want to eat all the time because I am ravenous.  The books tell me I need to be really healthy, but my body just wants  carbs, the greasier and unhealthier, the better. You can tell the baby  is half Italian the amount of pasta and pizza it demands.'

'I think I know just the place.' He hesitated. 'Unless you have somewhere in mind?'

'No, go ahead. And while we're talking about food, thank you for  arranging for those meals. There have been times when I was too tired to  even make toast. They have been brilliant.'

Marco exhaled. Bianca had announced her pregnancy shortly after he'd  last seen Sophie and had mentioned how tired she was in the evening and  what an effort making dinner was. The difference was she had Mamma  taking around dishes of pasta and Antonio to cook for her; he'd hated to  think of Sophie exhausted and hungry all alone. 'So the meals come  under protective and not controlling?'

She nodded. 'They do. They also come under thoughtful and sweet. I really appreciate it.'

It was a start. If he had his way, she'd be living with him and wouldn't  need to cope on her own. But he had agreed to respect her wishes-it  didn't mean he couldn't make things a little easier for her though.

Marco hailed a cab the second they left the hospital and gave directions  as he opened the door for Sophie. Neither of them spoke as the taxi  crawled along. It was barely three miles to their destination, but in  London traffic that could mean an eternity. As they sat there Marco was  assailed by homesickness for the city of his birth. Yes, Venice could be  insanely crowded, but just five minutes on a boat and he could be in a  deserted spot the tourists would never discover. London had been a  wonderful adventure, the place where he had grown up, established  himself, become a man in his own right, not just the Santoro heir, but  he was ready to move on.

Except Sophie was here-and so his child would be here. Which meant London was his home too for the foreseeable future.

'I don't know this area at all.' Sophie was looking around as the taxi  inched its way around Hyde Park heading north. 'I spent my first few  nights in London at a cheap hotel near Euston while I looked for work  and, once I had the job, rented a flat as close by the office as I could  afford. Luckily I had a small savings account I'd kept from Harry-if  he'd known, he'd have spent it on guitars or booze or a lads' holiday. I  was saving up for a wedding or a baby. Luckily I came to my senses  before either of those chained me to him, but it did mean I could afford  the first six months' rent while I started to make a life for myself  here. But I'm ashamed to say I haven't explored London much at all in  the year and a half I've been here. I'm usually working for Clio or  working for myself at home.'