Читать книгу Marriage Made In Monte Calanetti - Susan Meier - Страница 24

Lily was just about asleep again when Mic returned to the bedroom. Eyes closed, she rolled to her side. “I thought you were leaving. Did you forget something?”

“Yes.”

She felt his weight on the bed beside her and opened her eyes.

“I forgot something very, very important.”

“Really? You look totally dressed to me. Is there a sock under the bed?”

“No.” He glanced away then gazed at her again. “Have you ever thought about the future?”

She laughed. “Of course, I think about the future.”

“No. I mean do you ever really think about the future.” He motioned to the bed. “How this affects our future?”

She studied his serious face, the odd look in his eyes. She had no idea what could take him from her happy lover to this serious man … then it hit her. She and Mic hadn’t ever had a one-night stand. They’d been serious about each other from their first night. Lovers who intended to marry. This night didn’t fit them.

“You worry that you’re going to hurt me.”

“I do not intend to hurt you again.”

His serious tone pinched her heart. There was no way she’d let him regret making love. No way she’d have him leave thinking she was a charity case. She wasn’t.

Before he could say anything, she sat up. “Look, Melony isn’t the only one who got money for school from Signor Bartolini. I let Melony get enrolled and settle in before me to give her a sense of freedom, a chance to find friends without me hanging about. But next month I’ll be joining her in Florence.”

His face fell. “You’re going to school?”

She stroked his arm. “Yes. I get to live my dream too.”

He studied her face. “You have a dream?”

“You think I didn’t?” She sat up a little farther in bed, determined not to let him feel sorry for her or regret their time together, even though her heart splintered. Did he really have so little feeling for her that he didn’t see how this conversation would hurt her? Especially since there was a part of her that wanted to say, “Take me to Paris with you.”

But he wouldn’t take her to Paris with him. He wouldn’t be so bold as to ask again, and she wouldn’t be so humiliated as to beg.

“I love art. I visited so many museums that I swear I know more than the curators.” She laughed, working to hide the weird feeling in her heart that nudged her to admit she loved him and beg him to give her a second chance. She had to preserve her pride. She’d known this was only a one-night thing. She could not embarrass herself. “That’s what I want to be.”

“And you have already enrolled?”

“Si. Tuition is paid. I am okay, Mic.” She squeezed his arm. “You do not have to take care of me or worry about me. I’m very good alone.”

He rose from the bed. His eyes skimmed her face and she prayed for the strength not to cry.

“And this is what you want?”

She nodded. “This is what I want.”

“You are sure?”

She nodded again.

He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Okay, then.” He turned to the door. “I will see you at Mancini’s.”