Best Laid Plans (12 page)

Frankie watched her phone flash again with Luca’s number, biting on her knuckle. The phone stopped vibrating for a moment, and then tinged with a voice-mail message. She listened and her eyes filled with tears yet again. “Sweetheart, please talk to me.”

She couldn’t, she really couldn’t say a word to him, because honestly, she’d end up flying to Italy and killing him. Whatever anyone said to her, it was entirely Luca’s fault. After a moment’s thought she sent him a text message.
A lot going on right now. Give me a bit of time.

She hoped it was enough to stave him off, but he called again and again, so she let the call go to voice mail. There was so much to do, to think about. A letter had come to her from the GP confirming a scan in just over a fortnight, which she had grabbed from Joanne’s spindly fingers before she could open it and have a fit. Now she’d have to take time off and speak to HR as to why. The new flat she’d put an offer in for had only one bedroom, and she didn’t even want to think about what her mother would say.

It hadn’t crossed her mind not to have the baby. She was thirty-three and she wanted children. There wasn’t much else for her to wait for. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but what in her life ever had been ideal? Working at the unit made her very aware of what government help she was entitled to, and since she’d had a job from the age of fourteen washing hair at her local salon, she bloody well deserved the help. What made her nervous (she refused to admit to fear) was that her relationship with Luca spanned a blink of an eye. It was all very well claiming support and understanding post-orgasm, but now? When reality hit and there would be a whole dependent person for them both to look after, why wouldn’t Luca change his mind and run for the hills? She didn’t want to do it alone, but she would if she had to. Thinking about Luca rejecting her and the baby was making her even sicker. Statements of positive enforcements aside, it was bad. It was really, really bad.

“Francesca!” Joanne yelled. “There’s someone on the phone for you. I can’t understand them.”

With a sigh, Frankie made her way downstairs and took the phone from her mother. “Thanks.” She stood there, waiting, obviously wanting to listen in, but Frankie said pointedly, “Thank you.”

Joanne disappeared upstairs and Frankie answered. “Hello?”

“So you
do
know how to answer your phone,” Luca said. Her stomach crumpled like a piece of paper.

“I said give me a bit of time!”

“You’ve had a week,” he replied. “What’s the matter?”

Frankie heard someone yelling in the background. “Are you harassing that poor girl again?”

Luca ignored them and repeated his question to Frankie’s dismay. “Listen, I told you there’s a lot going on right now. And I know you’ve got enough on your plate, so stop worrying about me.”

“I won’t. I can’t. Tell me what’s wrong. What’s so much to deal with you can’t talk to me?”

“I—” A scream from upstairs made her jump.

“What was that?” Luca demanded.

“My mum. Look, I’ll call you back, okay?” She ended the call distractedly and hurried up the stairs. “Mum?”

Joanne was standing in Frankie’s room, the appointment letter shaking in her hands. “What is this?”

Oh shit.
“Are you going through my things?” Frankie demanded, going to snatch the letter back, but Joanne swung out of the way.

“I asked you a question, Francesca! What. Is. This?”

“I have an appointment for a scan...”

“I know what this is and you only have them if you’re pregnant.”

Frankie winced. “Not necessarily.”

Joanne gave another scream. “Don’t you dare lie to my face! How could you be so fucking stupid?”

Frankie recoiled. Her mother
never
swore. “It’s fine, Mum.”

“How, how is this fine? You’re still living here, you’re not married, and you’ve been knocked up by some greasy bloke who’s abandoned you to do it by yourself. What a disaster! This is terrible.”

“Okay, enough now,” Frankie snapped. “I am not fifteen years old. This is manageable. I can deal with this.”

“You’re not thinking, again!” Joanne bellowed; spit flew into Frankie’s face. “You can’t look after yourself, how are you going to look after a baby?”

“To be fair, I’m sure I’ll do a better job than you,” Frankie muttered. It was the worst thing she could have said.

“People told me, they told me that if I did it by myself, my child would turn out to be just the same, just as irresponsible and thoughtless as I was.”

“Yes, you reminded me on a daily basis! God’s sake, Mum, I didn’t do it to get at you.”

Joanne collapsed onto Frankie’s bed. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Father, give me patience
. “Mum, like I said, I didn’t do this on purpose. It happened. You’ve been through this, so you can help me.” It was a half-hearted suggestion, but Joanne lifted her eyes to Frankie’s and she took a step back. In her expression was nothing less than pure contempt for Frankie.

“I did my part. I did more than my part, especially after your father just left me with you. I am not doing it again.”

“I haven’t asked you for anything!”

“You’re still living here,” Joanne said, folding her arms. “And you need to leave.”

Frankie sighed. “I’m going, I just need to find another house and we’ll complete in two months.”

“No. Now. Get out of this house now. Take that abomination with you.” She nodded toward Frankie’s stomach. Without another word, Joanne got to her feet. Frankie stood in her way.

“I’ll go. But you should know something. I’m going to have this baby and I’ll do a damn good job raising it. It will be healthy and happy and more than you are ever capable of, that baby will be
loved
. And when my baby asks where
grandma
is, you know what I’m going to say? That she’s dead.”

Joanne struggled with the tears that suddenly filled her eyes, but Frankie was officially done. She left the room and Frankie started putting things into a suitcase, regretting her words, but anger staved off too much guilt. This wasn’t
Teen Mom!
  For goodness sake, she was a grown woman! Her whole, terrible relationship with her mother was based on the fact that Frankie’s father hadn’t been interested in yet another child. Joanne was supposed to be the fun on the side, and he felt trapped and betrayed upon discovering Frankie was on the way. Her father had gone back to his wife; Joanne had no idea about her or the three children he had with that same wife, all of whom had conveniently escaped his recall when he was bedding Joanne.

Frankie never saw her father, though he habitually contacted her on her birthday by card. On Frankie’s eighteenth birthday, she’d received a card from her father and a cheque for £20,000.
Good luck with everything you do. I know you’ll do well. Love, Dad.
Frankie binned the card and offered the cheque to her mother in the hope that it would cancel out Joanne’s resentment that she’d had to pay for everything for Frankie and her father never paid a penny. On presenting the cheque to Joanne, Frankie only narrowly avoided a slap. “How dare you! I don’t want a thing from that terrible man.”

Frankie saved it and when she was ready, used the money to buy her first home—with Leon, and hell had that been a mistake. It should have been obvious to her that anything to do with her father would be tainted by the fact that he didn’t want her. That he could only deal with her at a distance, once a year. Christ, what if Luca
was
like that? Her phone flashed. Speak of the devil.

“Hi, Lucky,” she said, trying to keep the trembling out of her voice. Stupid, fucking hormones, she was going to cry.

“What happened?”

“Mum just found out that I’ve found a new place to live,” she lied. “I’m all right.”

“I’ll be in London by tomorrow morning.”

Frankie slapped a hand over her eyes. “No, don’t you dare! Stay where you are and sort your family out.”

“Francesca...”

“Please. Please. Just stay there.”

He must have heard the desperation in her tone urging him to relent. “All right. You need to answer my calls because you are all that’s keeping me going here.”

Thank God!
“I’m all right, I promise. Do what you need to.”

She sat down on her bed and willed him to just accept what she was saying. “Don’t start doubting me.”

“I won’t,” she said, praying he couldn’t hear that she was blatantly lying. They disconnected and Frankie lay back on her bed, breathing out in long, slow breaths until she had a complete hold on herself. She sat up and continued packing. Several things she could leave where they were, and even though she really didn’t want to, she’d just have to stay at Luca’s for a few days. She’d bring him a house plant. That’d be a fair exchange.

Point blank determination delivered a carer to Luca in less than two weeks. His references checked out, the references that Tony ran on him worked out, and his father seemed accepting of another male in his home—one that wasn’t his own flesh and blood anyway. An Anna Taylor, copying in Rocco, had sent him a contract for the carer for Luca to add details and for him and the carer to sign. There was a version in English and Italian, for clarity’s sake. It should have surprised Luca how well connected he was now, but he just wanted this to be done so he could go.

“What about a new kitchen?” Edrige asked, watching the carer move his case into the guest room, which had a perfectly fitted en suite bathroom.

“You can supervise that yourself,” Luca replied as he set up the payments to the carer’s bank account for the first of every month. For incentive, Luca had given him a month’s salary in advance just so Luca could go home. Naples wasn’t home anymore. He realised that. Home was in the scent of Francesca’s neck, in her smile and her laughter.

Edrige noticed he wasn’t paying attention. “But you’ll pay for it?”

God, please grant me the patience.
“Do you want a new kitchen?”

She rolled her shoulders defensively. “Well, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want one.”

“Tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you. Email me.”

“We haven’t...”

“You do have broadband, it’s all fitted here. You and I don’t need to talk. It’s fine, I’m fine with that.”

Guilt finally pulled at her features. “You haven’t made this easy for any of us. If you’d just done what you were told, then it wouldn’t be like this.”

“It would.” Luca sighed. “It was inevitable. Like I said, email me if you need anything more.”

“Dafne called,” she announced. Irritation prickled at Luca’s shoulders.

“Did you talk to her?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I felt terrible about what you did and I wanted to make things right. She asked after you. I don’t know why.”

He was going to lose his freaking mind in one minute. “Because she’s psychotic. I don’t know how else to tell you, she is not a sane woman.”

“Dafne is a good, decent girl from a good and decent family. You should have felt lucky that a girl like her would even look your way, but no, you had to abuse that.”

“Everything that you’ve said to me, everything that Dad’s said to me, have I ever touched either of you, regardless of whether you deserved it or not? Have I?” She couldn’t answer. “You can blame me for all your shortcomings if you want, but don’t you
dare
tell me I abused Dafne.”

“Then why did you leave?”

Luca shrugged. “Tell me what I had to stay for.”

“Me, your father, your sister. You have a family here.”

It was laughable. “No, I really don’t.”

Just as Edrige opened her mouth to argue, the carer walked back into the room. He looked uncomfortable. “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to see if there was anything else left in the car.”

“No,” Luca said, sending him a stiff smile. “Keep the car—it’s part of your contract. Good luck and if there are any problems, talk them over with Mrs. Caristo here. I’m here until Thursday, then I’m back in London.”

The carer thanked him. “I’ll just go check on your father.”

He disappeared upstairs, leaving Luca and Edrige alone in the reception area. “Gianluca, wait...”

Luca picked up his phone and keys. “Say goodbye to Dad for me.”

Edrige’s jaw dropped. “You’re not even going to say it to his face?”

“For what possible purpose?” he asked, and held up a hand as he saw his mother begin to protest. “No, I won’t. I’ve made peace with the mess that this,” he gestured between them, “is, so saying goodbye to him will make little or no difference. I’d rather take the time to get everything else together and go home. My real home. The one that’s far away from all of you.”

He closed the door as he left, praying the carer hadn’t heard any of that. There was nothing that could convince him to step back inside this house. Finally, he was finished with them.