The Marriage He Must Keep(56)

Octavia had even invited her mother and Trista had agreed to come. She’d been a different woman since Octavia had cut ties with her father, most notably because Octavia had offered her baby bonus to her mother to buy herself an apartment and she’d accepted.

As much as Octavia was enjoying a new and warmer relationship with her mother, however, she kept wondering if she’d somehow wind up just like her after all. Their circumstances were different. Their husbands were different and Octavia had told herself from the very beginning that her marriage would be different.

But lack of love was lack of love.

And she kept thinking of something her mother had said when they were signing the final papers for the apartment. “He wasn’t always so bitter, you know. The first miscarriages were hard on him and I think he forced himself to stop caring after that.”

Octavia wasn’t in a mood to forgive her father, or even try to understand. She definitely didn’t want to compare Sandro to him.

But she couldn’t help thinking that if her parents had married for love rather than progeny, their relationship wouldn’t have been so empty when the babies failed to arrive.

Once that hard fact had occurred to Octavia, she hadn’t been able to shake it. She and Sandro had married to make a life together and they had a good one, so it wasn’t fair of her to change the rules midstream and expect love.

But she did. Because she loved him.

It wasn’t the nascent, immature infatuation of their first weeks of marriage, either. It was admiration for the man he was, joy at being near him, lust for his body and love, love, love of the rest of him. The emotion filled her up to overflowing, seeking expression.

She’d been working up the courage to tell him, but what she really needed courage for was hearing—maybe seeing—that he didn’t love her back.

Time, she kept telling herself. He would come to love her in time.

Meanwhile, she would enjoy the growing love that his family seemed to reciprocate. The day was glorious so she asked for the lunch to be served alfresco. Her mother wasn’t here yet, but Octavia had just finished feeding Lorenzo and left him with Bree to dress for his big day. She broke into Sandro’s Fortress of Maternal Avoidance and said, “We’re all on the front terrace. Will you come join us?”

He kept typing then moved the mouse, clicked and sat back in his chair. “Did I hear correctly that she’s ordered a cake? He doesn’t eat real food yet.”

“Oh, Sandro,” she said with exasperation, closing the door so his mother wouldn’t overhear, then marched forward to the front of his desk. “Yes, she’s gone over the top. But it’s a nice day. Come enjoy it with your family.”

“Ah, yes, my family. How’s Papa? Got himself covered up after doing the deed with my mother in the garden this morning?” he asked with false pleasantry.

“Don’t you dare embarrass her by telling her you saw them.” She pointed her finger at him so he would know she was serious.

“I’m trying to forget that I did. I want to gouge out my eyes.”

She rolled her own, trying not to fall into another fit of giggles at the way he’d reacted this morning. He’d been holding Lorenzo as he’d glanced out to greet the day and had abruptly let loose a string of very blue language. He’d turned away so appalled she was still snickering.

Now she tucked her chin and said, “She’s happy. Isn’t that the most important thing? Would you rather she was unhappy?”

“No,” he said, disgruntled.

“Just not that happy? Are you jealous?” she asked as it occurred to her.

“What do you mean?” His gaze cut up to hers in a way that made her think she was on to something.

“Because she’s with someone besides your father.”

“No,” he denied firmly, shrugging that off with a rearrangement of things on his desk. “She began auditioning replacements about three months after he was in the ground. I got over that distress very quickly.” He sounded as though he was telling the truth, but...

“Did you?” she pressed.

“I honestly don’t care who she sleeps with.” He stood, signaling that he would prefer to put an end to this conversation. His gaze came up, flat and hard. “I just didn’t like watching her throw herself into relationship after relationship only to come away with a broken heart.”

“I don’t think he plans to break her heart. He seems as madly in love as she is.” If anyone was jealous, it was Octavia. The way the count gazed at Ysabelle as if she was made of sunsets and jewels and exotic foods made her yearn to see the same undisguised feelings in her own husband’s face. They had come so far, but she was greedy. She wanted more.