The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty(83)

                She’d held off for a full twenty-four hours before caving in to her need to see him. Her mind was tormented with worries for his state of mind. She’d phoned the house and been assured by Monique that he was working from home. She’d called at the right time—Monique had been put on leave with full pay until further notice. She was only at the house at that time with the ostensible excuse of having to drop some dry-cleaning off. She too was worried for him.

                ‘Make sure you take things easy,’ Grace warned kindly.

                Two weeks had passed since Cara’s baby had been so cruelly taken from her. It would be another four weeks before she’d be allowed to lift anything heavier than a cup of tea. ‘I promise. I’ll call you when I’m done.’

                ‘No rush. I’ll wait at the house.’ Since her discharge, Cara and Grace had been staying at the home of a friend of Pepe’s who was away on business. ‘The jet’s ready to leave when we are.’

                Swallowing her apprehension, Cara used her key to unlock the front door. The alarms were disabled, so she knew he had to be around somewhere, but only silence greeted her. Heavy, oppressive silence.

                Slowly she walked through the ground floor. Everything was just as it had been when she’d last walked through this house, when the future had seemed full of hope, when they’d found a new level of intimacy and she’d believed that maybe miracles could occur.

                But there were no miracles to be had.

                Nothing had changed but the house felt like a shell of itself.

                How could Pepe bear to live here all alone with only his own thoughts for company?

                At least she had Grace. She would always have Grace and would for ever be grateful to her best friend for everything she had done for her and continued to do. But all Cara wanted was Pepe. It was his arms she wanted around her, holding her. Just holding her. Sharing their grief.

                ‘Pepe?’

                No answer.

                ‘Pepe? It’s me. Cara,’ she added as an afterthought.

                Where was he? Oh, please let him be okay.

                There was another reason for her being here.

                Taking a deep breath, she entered the garage.

                All the stuff was there, exactly where she had left it, still in the boxes. The cot. The dresser. The pram. Even the baby bath. Everything.

                The weighty nausea that had lined her stomach for the past two weeks began its familiar roll. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall for support.

                Her baby would never sleep in that cot or ride in that pram.

                Her chest heaved as she fought back another fresh wave of tears. So many tears. So much grief. And the man she wanted so desperately to cling to could hardly bring himself to look at her.

                Heavy steps came into the garage accompanied by even heavier breathing.

                ‘Sorry, I was on a teleconference,’ Pepe said tonelessly.

                She opened her mouth to say not to worry. Instead, bile and hysteria rose in her throat. The boxes ripped at her.

                ‘Are you healing well?’

                She wanted to say yes, but all she could see were the boxes. ‘I don’t know what to do with this lot. I just don’t know what to do.’