actually stay together, had demanded that the baby be given up for adoption.
But once they had been free of their parents’ oppression, married to each other and still madly in love, Salvo and Nicole had searched for their lost son. Even after they’d had Sebastian and Noemi, for more than thirty years they’d searched. And finally they’d found him—only for them to be killed in a helicopter crash on their way to see him.
It was tragic. Heartbreaking, even.
But the only thing Maria’s father had taken away from the story was that there was another Cattaneo heir now. One who, if reports were correct, had been left a controlling share in the hugely successful jewellery business.
‘Maybe you were right to leave him after all,’ Maria’s father had said, when he’d heard the story just a few weeks ago. ‘The divorce settlement should be good, and you’re still young enough to marry again. We’ll choose better next time.’
Maria hadn’t spoken to him since.
‘Here we are!’ Noemi’s bright and cheerful tone caught Maria by surprise, and she almost slipped on the final step leading up to the top floor.
Sebastian’s floor. The one they had shared ever since their marriage. Salvo and Nicole had taken one of the smaller suites on a lower floor, smiling knowingly as they’d declared that Seb and Maria might ‘need the extra room’ up there sooner or later. Preferably sooner.
This particular reason probably wasn’t what they’d had in mind.
She bit her lip. How could she move back in here, even into a separate bed, and pretend that things were different? That she didn’t still love her husband—and he wasn’t still so indifferent to her?
But Frankie was excited to see his room and, one small hand in his aunt Noemi’s, he’d barrelled on through to find out where he would be sleeping, Uncle Max chuckling as he followed behind.
Imagining their future probably—his and Noemi’s. Noemi’s baby bump was still relatively small, but it was there—as obvious as her excitement at starting a family with the man she loved.
And she did love Max, Maria could tell. And he loved Noemi—that was clear in every look, every smile he gave her. They would live happily ever after, just like Maria had once imagined she and Sebastian would.
How foolish she had been. Foolish, young and naive.
She knew better now, at least.
Sucking in a deep breath, Maria trailed after the others through the large open living space to the second bedroom—pointedly ignoring the archway that led to the main bedroom and the king-sized bed she remembered so well. The one where Frankie had actually been conceived, now she thought about it...
Except she wasn’t—thinking about it, that was. That way madness lay.
‘Well, what do you think, Frankie?’ Maria asked, forcing a smile for the sake of her son. ‘Will the chalet be a fun place to spend Christmas?’
Frankie, already bouncing on one of the twin beds, nodded excitedly. ‘And with Papà and Auntie Noemi and Uncle Max?’
‘Of course!’ Maria took his hands in hers to try to calm the bouncing. ‘And with Uncle Leo and Aunt Anissa, I suppose, too?’
Noemi nodded. ‘We hope so, anyway. It was Mamma and Papà’s last wish—to have all their children around the table for Christmas.’ Her permanent smile turned a little sad. ‘I just wish they were here to see it.’
Max wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close against his side, and despite her best efforts Maria felt a pang of jealousy run through her. When had Sebastian ever instinctively comforted her like that?
Never. Because that would involve understanding what she was feeling. And Seb had never drawn his attention away from the family business long enough to even try to do that.
She looked away, but apparently not fast enough. Noemi, obviously having caught her expression, stepped out of the circle of Max’s arms, looking concerned.
Max looked between them. ‘Frankie, how about you and I go downstairs and explore the kitchen? I think I saw some delicious-looking Christmas cookies in there earlier.’
Frankie’s eyes widened at the mention of sugary treats.
‘If that’s okay with your mamma,’ Max added, too late for her to possibly say no.
Maria felt a tightening around her heart, and it had nothing to do with Frankie eating too much sugar before bedtime. It had been just the two of them for so long now that the idea of being separated—even just by a few floors—felt strange.
‘We’re all family here,’ Noemi murmured, taking Maria’s hand and squeezing it. Her sister-in-law always had been too good at reading her. ‘And Max needs the practice anyway.’
Maria gave a stiff nod, placed a kiss on Frankie’s cheek, and watched as Max swept the toddler up into his arms, already talking about chocolate chips and candies baked into cookies.
‘He’ll be fine.’ Noemi squeezed her hand one more time before dropping it.
Maria sighed. ‘I know.’
‘The more important question is, will you?’ Noemi asked.
Sinking down onto the bed, Maria covered her face with her hands. Would she? Would she be okay, spending Christmas with the husband—and family—she’d left behind?
‘I have no idea,’ she admitted.
* * *
Alone.
Seb watched Maria and Frankie walk away, and felt the terrible word echoing around his mind. Through his heart.
Frankie hadn’t even known him when he’d answered the door, had shied away from him when he’d tried to hold him. He’d wanted to video call more often, but it was always so hard to find a time during his son’s waking hours. Maria didn’t even bother answering if Frankie was already asleep, usually sending a text later to explain.
But, looking at his son now, Seb wondered how he could ever have imagined that ten minutes of video once every week or so could ever be enough. The baby he’d held in his arms last Christmas had gone for ever. When Maria had left, Frankie had only just begun to crawl—now he seemed to run everywhere on sturdy legs that were nothing like the podgy, squidgy baby ones he remembered. Even in the four months since he’d last visited, Frankie had grown so much. His eyes were the same bright hazel as in the photo on his desk, but they no longer gazed trustingly up at him. Instead, they were puzzled, even wary.
As if he didn’t know Sebastian, his own papà, at all.
Seb clutched at the back of the nearest chair to steady himself. How had this happened? How could he have missed so much? And how could he ever get that time back?
You can’t.
The voice in his head sounded like Maria’s, like the day she’d left.
‘You can’t understand,’ she’d said that day. ‘You’re not capable of it. I see that now.’
Capable of what? he’d wanted to ask. But she had already gone, leaving him behind to deal with the business, and his family, and everything else that fell on his shoulders.
But none of it, he realised suddenly, mattered as much as the year he had lost. A whole year of his son’s life that he could never get back. Never experience as a father should.
That realisation hurt a thousand times more than learning that he had an older brother, that his parents had lied to him his whole life by never telling him about it. Hurt a million times more than learning that they’d left Leo the controlling share of the company that should have been his.
Hurt almost as much as hearing Noemi sobbing as she’d told him their parents were