Breathe (2 page)

It took Jace a moment to realize what was happening. Then, as he caught sight of her swaying hips, he strode forward, his jaw tight. Who did she think she was, waltzing in here and looking at him as if everything was
his
fault? He reached the door before she did and wrenched it open, the movement having little to do with chivalry and more to do with the fact that it was
his
door. And damned if she didn't sweep by him with her nose still in the air.

His sweet Anna. They'd gotten off on the wrong foot. That was all. She was used to having a nanny, and now was dealing with her children alone. He wasn't totally insensitive to what she'd been through. She'd lost her husband. And Jace hadn't even gone to the funeral. He'd heard about it from his vintner, who had heard it from a fellow vintner at a winery near Morelli's. He'd felt like a coward ever since. He'd called Alex for the details and then sent flowers. He should have known she'd be struggling. He should have offered her a place. The proud Anna he remembered would never have shown up out of the blue. She wouldn't have cried either. She'd changed, and he'd been too blind to see it.

But seeing her now was a blow to the gut. The same way it had been when he'd visited her last in the hospital, when Aurelia had been born. A reminder of what could have been. A reminder that she was untouchable. Just as she was now. This was why he stayed away. Being near her reminded him of too much. He couldn't take away the hurt of the past.

“I don't suppose you have a nursery?” She sighed with impatience and he set his teeth to keep from retorting. Aurelia's cries had quieted from screams to pitiful whimpers, and Jace suddenly saw the lines around Anna's eyes.

But Anna didn't have wrinkles. She was bright and energetic and unstoppable.

Jace wanted to help her. He'd
always
wanted to help her, even when she'd married Stefano. He'd tried to make the feelings go away but had never quite succeeded. And as much as it bothered him to have her near, he wanted to look after her now. Maybe she'd made mistakes, but clearly she was paying for them.

And yet the fact remained—he'd never really forgiven her for marrying Stefano in the first place. It had barely been three months after Jace had gone away with Alex when Anna and Stefano announced their engagement. Everything that had been was suddenly gone, like it hadn't mattered at all. Like it hadn't even
existed
. He'd been partly to blame, but she'd acted in a way he hadn't thought she was capable of. Selfish. And that fact still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I don't have a nursery, but there is a spare room. Up the stairs and to the right. Down the hall you'll find a room for you and your daughter as well as one for the boy next to it.” Again he saw the evidence of fatigue in her eyes. He'd seen that look of total defeat on her face before, and couldn't be responsible for it a second time. It wasn't in him to turn her away no matter what their past issues. There were years of friendship to take into account. “It's yours for as long as you need, Anna.”

She looked momentarily nonplussed. “You mean you'll let us stay?”

The way she looked at him made him feel like a worm, lowly and dirty, and like she'd expected him to throw them out after one night.

“What kind of man do you think I am, Anna? Of course you can stay.” He might not like it, but he'd never turn her out. He pressed his lips together. Did she really doubt him so very much?

He bent down to unlace his boots. “Give me a moment. I'll show you.”

Her eyes skittered away. “That's all right, we'll find it. Thank you.”

Her voice was much mollified, and he was relieved that for the moment her tears had disappeared. If only he could erase his own feelings of responsibility. If he'd been a man all those years ago instead of a coward…

He scowled as the second boot came off, and he heard her speaking softly as she led Matteo up the stairs and to their accommodations. The truth was he'd do anything to help Anna. Anna had been his family for a lot of years, always there when he needed her. He owed her.

But a poor host he was indeed, so once the boots were off, he took the steps two at a time in pursuit.

He found the three of them in the first spare room. Anna was bent over the bed, buttoning up the front of the baby's frilly dress. Her voice was soft and musical, a change from the Anna he remembered. On the floor by the door linking the two rooms, he saw Matteo on his knees, running a toy car across the floor.

“Did you find everything all right?”

Anna's head spun around, her hands still spanning the baby's ribs. Matteo stopped the driving noises he'd been making to look up. Not in many years had Jace felt so much like an outsider.

“Yes, thank you. It's been a long day, especially for the children. They don't understand…”

Her voice broke off and he knew there was much the children didn't understand. That he didn't understand himself. He and Anna needed to talk. He needed to know the real reason why she was here. Because this was no ordinary visit, of that he was sure.

“I hope you don't mind,” she continued. “We seem to have made ourselves quite at home.”

“That was the intent, wasn't it?” He let a smile touch his lips, knowing they'd gotten off on the wrong foot. Her answering smile was tentative, and her eyes fell on her son.

He turned his attention to Matteo, who was watching him with openly hostile eyes. The boy was playing with a rudimentary wooden car, one Jace had made with his father when he'd been a boy and that now had a position of honor in one of the guest rooms. It was more for decoration than function these days, but he didn't have the heart to take it away from Matteo. The boy had lost enough.

“You found my car. Do you like it?”

“You can have it back. I wasn't going to hurt it.”

He went over to Matteo. The boy was just old enough to understand what had happened with his father and far too young to be able to put it in perspective. Jace squatted down in front of Matteo and tried a smile. “I made this with my dad many years ago.”

“You still have toys?”

He gave Matteo a conspiratorial wink. Of course he did, only his toys now were of the faster, more expensive variety. “Certainly. You're never too old for toys.”

Matteo blinked a few times. “My papa's dead. But I like my
Nonno
Roberto. He doesn't yell at me.”

Jace's heart clubbed. It was all so matter of fact, and very telling. Lord, if the judgmental Roberto Morelli was being held up as an example of kindness, Stefano must have been a piece of work. What kind of life had Anna had with Stefano? And the children? Had he been a good father? Guilt piled upon guilt as Jace realized he should know the answers. If he'd been the kind of friend he should have, he would have known.

“There is a chest of toys in your room, Matteo. We will get them out of the closet. You are free to use them all.”

“Thanks.”

Jace smiled. With the blessing to use the toys, Matteo had lost the edge of reserve he'd been clinging to since getting out of the car, a demeanor that had seemed out of place in a boy so young.

The boy took the car and went through the door to his own room. Jace saw him take the car up onto the bed. Small boys who were yelled at. His stomach clenched. He'd had a poor childhood, but his parents had never been cruel, even when life had been cruel to them. He hoped Stefano had never been cruel to Matteo, or to Anna. Jace had enough to feel guilty about without bearing that burden as well.

He stood again and turned to face Anna. Her face was solemn, her eyes wide. There were shadows in the depths and he wondered what had put them there. It seemed her husband's death had affected her profoundly. She was not the same vibrant woman he remembered. Children and widowhood could do that to a woman, he supposed. Had Stefano's death broken her heart?

A large tear glimmered on the baby's cheek as Anna held her in her arms. What he wanted to say and what he could say were two very different things. Saying what he thought now wouldn't help. In fact, he highly doubted he had any right to say anything at all.

“Let me know if you need anything more. I'll go downstairs and make us some dinner.”

She tried a smile, but he saw the sadness behind it and fought the urge to reach out and gather her in his arms and tell her it was okay. He'd lost the right to be her defender and protector a long time ago.

“Thank you, Jace. We're very grateful for your kindness.”

Kindness? The last thing he'd ever been was kind. He put his hands in his pockets and excused himself. And got out while he still could.

Chapter Two

Anna took the nipple of the bottle out of Aurelia's slack mouth. She'd fallen asleep feeding. A tiny dribble caught at the corner of her lips and Anna affectionately touched it with her finger. She'd missed out on these moments so much when Matteo had been small, and even for the first six months of Aurelia's life. She'd let Stefano steamroll her into getting a nanny so she could continue being the dutiful wife, moving in the right social circles and going back to work at Morelli's marketing department when both children had been only weeks old. He'd insisted it was expected, but she had always felt it was wrong.

Those days were gone now. She wanted to be a better mother. She wanted to be the one they looked to and depended upon. One of her biggest regrets was how she'd spent so much time away from them, leaving their care to someone else. No matter how trusted that person had been. Thinking of it now made her physically ill.

And oh, she was tired. All the travel and taking them to a new place was confusing to the children, and she was rapidly beginning to realize that when their schedules were toyed with, things did not go well. She laid Aurelia gently in her playpen and covered her with a pale yellow coverlet the color of diluted sunshine and the inside of daffodils. Tiptoeing to the edge of the room, she looked in on Matteo. He'd been very quiet, and she smiled when she saw him also asleep on his bed, his hand on a stuffed giraffe.

Her babies.

She swallowed against tears. No, no more. She would not cry, not even when she was exhausted and at her wits' end. She was done with crying. She'd done her share and was determined not to ever again. Her children deserved a happy mother, not one who leaked from her eyes at the drop of a hat. She'd made the decision to uproot them and leave the Morelli house, and she was convinced it had been the right move. She was beginning to realize there were things more important than giving them the privileges money could buy, and she couldn't stand playing the grieving widow for another moment.

She'd gone looking for a new start, a place to heal and begin again. Only four people that she was aware of knew the whole story—her father; her brother, Alessandro; his wife; and her former nanny. And that was how it would stay. She didn't want Jace to know what a fool she'd been, how her silver-spoon life had turned into a clichéd joke.

What she really wanted now was a glass of wine and something to eat. Something edible. Which meant she wouldn't be making it because her cooking skills hadn't yet caught up with her aspiring nurturing side. Their cook had shown her a few staple dishes, as had Jace's mother, but her culinary expertise was limited to those select items. Her own mother had abandoned the family when she was young.

She remembered how that felt, to lose a parent. Then she'd let Stefano neglect their children, and that knowledge kept her awake at night now. It was one of the reasons she was determined they never feel unloved ever again. She'd taken the gilded cage of marriage to Stefano when the life she'd wanted ceased to be a possibility. It had been a kneejerk reaction to a broken heart, nothing more. Her way of rebelling. Now she was paying the price. But her children never would. They were little and would forget all of this pain and uncertainty. She'd make sure of it. She had brains, means and the desire. She simply had to figure out
what next
.

She left the doors to their rooms open so she could hear if either of them woke, and left to see if there was anything she could scrounge in the kitchen.

At the bottom of the stairs she could hear movements from the front of the house, and she followed the noise and then her nose. Her stomach rumbled. She'd had a muffin in Kelowna several hours earlier, the bites fitted in between getting Matteo and Aurelia fed. But this didn't smell like dried-out muffin. It smelled like garlic. And olive oil…and something spicy.
Italiano
.

She paused inside the door.

Jace had changed out of his dirty clothes into clean jeans and a white T-shirt. She watched as his strong, dark forearms flexed as he moved the knife, slicing mushrooms and brushing them into a bowl. Jace could cook. Imagine that.

“What's cooking?”

He spun around, a supremely large knife in his hand. “You scared me.”

“I'm the one who should be scared, by the size of that knife.”

His lips turned up ever so slightly. “I thought you might be hungry. I know it's early, but…”

“But you'd be right. You don't have to cook for us though. I can manage.”

He turned back to his chopping board. “This might come as a surprise to you, but I like cooking.”

“It does, actually.” Several years ago he'd resented having to do for himself. She'd seen beyond the chip on his shoulder and had loved him anyway. It seemed that perhaps in one way, he'd relaxed his notions a bit.

He chopped more mushrooms, the rhythm of the knife firm and sure. “We didn't all grow up with cooks and maids, Anna.”

She snorted. “You don't actually expect me to feel sorry for you, do you?” It was an old joke between them, the difference in their upbringings. And one made comfortably, as they each knew the other had valid claims to heartbreak.

She saw his shoulders shake a little. “You're right. That didn't really work, did it? It never did.” He finished with the mushrooms and put down the knife. “The children are napping, I assume.”