“Right. Of course…” she nodded.
“So lying about this now would achieve nothing…” he shrugged.
“Thank you,” she wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for… telling the truth? Not sleeping with those women? All she knew was that she felt incredibly relieved because the public humiliation hurt so much less now that she knew the rumours of his many infidelities had been unfounded. She shut out the painful, lingering memory of the omnipresent Francesca and dropped her head back onto his shoulder. He stroked her narrow back gently, there was nothing sexual in their embrace anymore, just comfort and support which Theresa needed a lot more than the physical release she had been craving before.
“You must be starving,” he finally murmured into her hair, lifting his head to smile down into her eyes. “I’ll get us something to eat. We can have dinner and watch a movie in bed, okay?” She nodded and reluctantly allowed him to lift her from his lap. He dropped a sweet kiss on her head and left the bedroom with a gentle smile.
Chapter Nine
That day signaled a turning point in their rocky relationship, the peace remained and along with it a mutual, ever-deepening respect blossomed between them. Sandro consulted her on some of his business decisions, seeming to value her opinions and take her advice and, taking her cue from him, Theresa started asking for his opinions on some of her designs and developed a keen admiration for the eye he seemed to have for quality jewelry. With his encouragement she started attempting more difficult pieces using new mediums and she was pleasantly surprised with the results.
Life was better but by no means perfect, they still slept apart at Theresa’s insistence, and even though he still accompanied her to all of her doctor’s appointments and was even her coach at the natural childbirth classes she had started attending, Theresa hardly ever talked to him about the baby and did her utmost to discourage any discussion he may want to have about it. Lisa was meant to be her coach but her cousin had her hands full with Rhys and promised to be there for the birth but could not put in the time commitment at the classes. That, of course, meant that Sandro was nothing more than a temporary replacement which she knew grated on his ego. Francesca still loomed large between them and even though Theresa was careful never to mention the other woman’s name; she was never far from Theresa’s mind.
Sandro had gone to Italy a couple of times during the past three months and after compulsively checking the Internet for any news about him while he was away, she had finally found pictures of the two of them together, attending some glamorous function in Milan. She couldn’t read the Italian article but it had been an extensive four page spread on the event and Sandro and Francesca Delvecchio, as the captions had identified her, had been two of the most beautiful people there, so there had been at least a dozen pictures of them smiling, dancing and drinking. Sandro had looked so relaxed and happy with the statuesque, gorgeous brunette on his arm, that Theresa had been unable to stop staring at the pictures. That was how he should have looked on their wedding day, carefree and in love. Instead his face had looked like it would crack wide open if he so much as tilted his lips at the corners. It had physically hurt her to see those pictures but the one that had torn her apart had been of him, bending down to drop a kiss onto his Francesca’s full, pouting red lips. Never had she seen two more evenly matched people.
Theresa sighed and shook herself slightly, as she found herself thinking of that picture again. It had been more than a month since she’d seen it and she hadn’t mentioned it to Sandro, knowing that it would achieve little, especially with their separation looming less than three months away. She ran a gentle hand over the football sized mound of her stomach, trying to ease the restlessly moving baby beneath her touch. She had no right to be jealous… even though they had a much better relationship now than they’d had during the first year and a half of marriage, they were married in name only and would separate as soon as the baby was born.
She had started decorating the nursery and Sandro, who had thrown a fit one day when he’d returned from the office early to find her perched on a ladder attempting to paint the walls, had done the painting. She spent a great deal of time in the nursery, adding little touches here and there, often going out and shopping for furniture and toys. There really was very little left to do but she still kept adding little stuffed toys and tiny infant sized clothes. The colour scheme was cream and pale lilac. She had started out with blue but had come home from visiting Lisa one day to find that Sandro had changed to colour to something more “gender neutral” as he’d put it. She hadn’t protested it too much because she had found the new colour scheme soothing and prettier than the blue on white she’d had planned. She also found Sandro’s touches elsewhere in the nursery… he bought toys, girls’ toys. Stuffed dolls, teddy bears, toy ponies, anything a little girl’s heart could possibly desire. Theresa chose not to acknowledge them in any way and every time she came across one, usually insidiously hidden amongst the toys she had bought, she would relegate it to the corner furthest from the beautiful crib that they had selected together. There was a quite a collection forming in the area which she had dubbed Toy Siberia. She did not know why he kept buying those things and she refused to ask. He never mentioned the heap of toys that she had stowed in the corner, just kept doggedly adding more and more to the nursery.
Their two hours three times a week had branched out into a few hours every day. There was no longer a time limit on the amount of time they spent together because Theresa had stopped enforcing it once it became clear that Sandro was going to sneak a little time every day and it just became easier to pretend not to notice it. Theresa’s health continued to fluctuate, her pregnancy being a lot more difficult than she, Sandro or the doctor had ever anticipated. She had been diagnosed with pre-eclampsia the month before, Sandro had turned into a paranoid old woman about what she could and could not do. He had even stopped going into the office, working from home and hovering twenty-four/seven. She didn’t know how she would get through the final two months of her pregnancy without resorting to some form of violence because the man was driving her completely crazy.