Marco's Pride

Payton tensed, looked away. Why had she even bothered to offer? He’d never understood that she liked to contribute. Never realized it made her feel good to contribute.

“That came out wrong. I’m sorry.” Marco sighed heavily. “I’m tired. It’s been a difficult month.”

For both of them then. “I understand. The IRS has had a field day with my income tax. I’ve spent hours poring over my financial statements, making sure all of my expenses are accounted for.”

His expression eased. He actually looked sympathetic. “But that’s behind you now?”

“Fortunately.”

Looking at him, seeing him stand there and smile at her, she felt a rush of bittersweet memory. She’d loved Marco so much.

He’d been her world. Her stars. Her sky. He had taken her ordinary life and made it big, made her feel, made her love.

And then he’d brought it all down on her…the love, the want, the need…he’d let the world crash down, her dreams and heart breaking. He’d let it shatter and he hadn’t felt a damn thing. God help her, but it’d been the worst pain, the worst loss imaginable. She’d cried for months, cried in the shower, cried in her pillow, cried in the car on her way to the grocery store.

How to get over someone? How to stop wanting someone? How to stop needing someone?

The only way she’d finally survived the loss was to kill the love. She’d been forced to take all that need and want and passion and smother it.

No more tenderness.

No more desire.

No more passion. Nothing but anger. Fierce, sharp unrelenting anger. He’d hurt her so badly she’d decided never to forgive him, never to forget him, never have contact again.

Of course it didn’t work out like that. The biopsy had forced Payton to confront not just her own mortality, but her pride.

“Fortunately,” she repeated softly, swallowing hard and pushing a loose tendril from her forehead. “And I hope I don’t have to deal with the tax man again for quite some time.”

He snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot. I have someone on a plane to New York trying to track down Gia’s blanket.”

“Thank you. It’d be a miracle if you find it, but it’d be a welcome miracle.”

His mouth tightened. “You don’t think I care about them, Payton, but you’re wrong. I love them. They’ve always been important to me.”

“Yet you haven’t visited very often.”

“You were the one that moved to America.”

He couldn’t reduce all their problems to the move. “It was the only thing I could do.”

“That’s absurd. I wanted you here. I knew it’d be difficult to see the girls once you were half way round the world and I was right.”

“You have business in the United States. You didn’t make many attempts to see us.” She pressed her nails into her hands, her voice taking on an edge. “I know for a fact you were in the Bay Area a number of times and yet you never came by the house.”

His voice sharpened, too. “I tried. Every time I phoned you had an excuse. You were heading out of town, or one of the girls was sick.”

“The time we were heading out of town, I was going to attend a funeral.” Her mother’s funeral. After a five-year battle with cancer her mother had finally lost the fight and Payton had been nearly incoherent with grief. “And children do get sick!”

“I sent gifts,” he defended tersely, but Marco knew it was a lame defense. He had stayed away. Not because he wanted to, but because visiting Payton and the girls hurt more than it helped. He felt like hell after each visit. Felt like a failure.

“A stuffed bear isn’t quite the same thing as a father.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he shouted, furious that she was right and that he’d lost control. God damn it, he hated that Payton could do this to him, hated that she made him feel like an absolute lunatic. “Don’t you think I struggle every day with the knowledge that my children are being raised halfway around the world and they view me as nothing more than a stranger?”

She took a step toward him. “You’re right. They do think of you as a stranger. And why shouldn’t they? You haven’t even tried to be part of their lives. And then last month, it was their birthday. I sent you an invitation. Why didn’t you come?”

He felt the blood drain from his face. “I couldn’t make it.”

“So call me. E-mail me. Tell me so your children won’t be disappointed!”

“They didn’t even notice I wasn’t there.”

He had no idea, she thought, seething. He had no idea how out of touch he was.

Her chest burned and her eyes felt gritty and she realized she was angry—not just with him, but with fate and life and everything. “Do you know they spent their party watching the door? Do you know they begged me not to cut the cake just in case you arrived late?”

“Payton, stop.”

“No, you stop. You stop treating the girls badly because you’re angry with me. They didn’t divorce you. They’re not to blame.”

His shoulders slumped. “I don’t blame them.”

“It seems like it.”

“Then why are you here?”

She dashed her fists beneath her eyes to keep the tears from falling. “My mother died earlier in the year. If anything should happen to me, the girls would come to you.” Her voice broke and she turned away. “It’s too late to save our marriage, but it’s not too late to make sure the girls have a loving relationship with you.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE girls woke early and crawled into bed with Payton. By the time the three of them threw back the covers to hunt for breakfast, Marco had gone. Except for Gia’s sassy comment about the “big bad wolf” going to work, the twins appeared oblivious to the fact that they were staying in their father’s house and hadn’t seen much of him yet.

Midmorning Payton herded the girls outside to get some air. They needed to do some running about to burn off their exuberant three-year-old energy and they raced off now, heading toward the garden they’d discovered yesterday. “Come on, Mommy! Hurry!”

Inside the walled garden the twins chased each other with shrieks of laughter. Shading her eyes, Payton watched Gia chase Liv around and around the walled garden. Gia might be more confident than Liv, and she might play the role of the aggressor, but Liv had speed. Payton suppressed a smile as Liv successfully dodged Gia’s tackle yet again.

“Not fair!” Gia cried loudly, frustrated.

But Liv just danced away, trying hard not to grin.

“They’re having a good time, aren’t they?” Marilena said, appearing at the garden’s little wrought iron gate.

Payton turned and mustered a smiled for the princess. “They love this little garden. It’s like something out of a storybook.”

Marilena’s gaze swept the stone walls lined by tall neatly trimmed hedges. “This was once the old palace’s herb garden. Marco and I are working to replant the original garden.” She looked at Payton. “Do you garden?”

“No. My mother and I lived in an apartment. We didn’t have a garden.” The princess didn’t say anything and Payton hastily added. “But I do sew. That’s how I fell in love with fashion design. My mom and I used to make all our own clothes.”