A Taste Of Italy: Midwife, Mother...Italian's Wife. Fiona McArthur
He nodded, but the concern stayed in his eyes. ‘And who will keep you and Jack safe?’
‘We’ll be fine, honey.’ She hugged him for the last time. ‘Have a good flight and look after Grace and Aunt Emma for me.’
‘Until you come?’ He searched her face. ‘Jack wants to come.’
‘We’ll see.’ She glanced across to Leon, who seemed just as embroiled as she, with Jack. ‘I’ll think about it.’ Not on your life was she going anywhere near Leon Bonmarito. Hopefully by the time he came back to visit his brother she’d be over this infatuation that had rocked her nice tidy little world.
Jack returned to her side, looked at Paulo and shook hands and then threw shyness to the winds and hugged the other boy, who hugged him fiercely back.
‘You guys got over your mutual dislike, I see,’ she teased, and they broke apart, both pink-tinged in the neck.
‘He’s okay,’ Jack said gruffly.
‘Too rrright, mate,’ Paulo said with a stiff upper lip and a fine attempt at Aussie slang. His accent rolled the r’s and made them all laugh.
Then Leon stood beside her. So big and darkly handsome…and so ready to leave.
‘Arrivederci, Tamara.’ His arms came around her for a brief hug and he kissed her in the Italian fashion on both cheeks. Nowhere near her mouth.
It was as if they both knew it would hurt too much. With his head against her hair she heard him say, ‘Addio, amore mio.’
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