“Have you thought of names yet?” Lisa was asking and Theresa winced slightly at the memory of a conversation she’d once had with Sandro. He must’ve have remembered too because he made a caustic sound.
“Last time we talked about it,” he spoke for the first time since Lisa had arrived ten minutes before. “She had her heart set on Kieran, Liam, Ethan or Alexander.” Lisa frowned at that.
“Only boys’ names?” She asked in confusion.
“You forget, your cousin was obsessed with having a son,” he taunted. “What a pity for her that she failed so dismally at achieving her goal.” Theresa’s soft mouth quivered at the slight and his eyes darkened at the sight but he kept pressing. “She’s so torn up by this inability of hers to do anything right, that she hasn’t even bothered to look at our daughter. Or hold her. Or even attempt to feed her. Why hassle with a mere girl child when it won’t get her out of her miserable marriage with me? When it won’t win her the affection of her thrice-damned father?”
“Theresa?” Lisa prompted gently, watching as tears spilled onto Theresa’s pale cheeks. Sandro cursed rawly, before levering himself from the wall and sitting down on the bed to wrap her in his strong arms.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m a bastard. Just don’t cry.”
“You’re not a bastard,” she sobbed. “You’re right. I can’t look at her. I can’t hold her. I hate myself for being this way but she’s not what I was expecting. I wanted to make this all right. I wanted to have that son and release you from your obligation to me. I wanted to finally do something right in my father’s eyes... everything would have been perfect.”
“Do you hate our baby?” He asked painfully, keeping his face buried in her hair.
“Of course not... I love her so much it hurts. But I feel like such a failure…”
“Oh God, sweetheart, just let all it go,” he groaned. “Let yourself love her. Allow yourself to be happy.”
“But what about you? I promised you...”
“For God’s sake just stop it,” he shook her slightly. “I told you before, I don’t want out of this marriage. And if you give me nothing but daughters for the next twenty years, I would consider myself blessed.”
She made a muffled sound as she buried her face in his neck and wept. She so desperately wanted to believe him. He rocked her soothingly and after a long while, he released her and gently lowered her until her head rested on the pillow.
“Why don’t you rest, cara and when you wake up, I think it’s time you met your daughter and gave her a proper welcome into this world.” Theresa stared up into his dark, handsome face, barely noticing when her cousin got up and left, squeezing Sandro’s taut shoulder on her way out. Her vision started to blur after a while and she fell asleep still trustingly clutching one of her husband’s large, capable hands in both of hers.
She awoke to the sound of angry, hushed voices and blinked groggily as she tried to get her bearings.
“I don’t want you anywhere near her,” she heard Sandro hiss furiously and tried to concentrate on the drama unfolding in her doorway where she could see two large men silhouetted. One was unmistakably Sandro and the other; she narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to focus a bit better. It looked like her father.
“She’s my daughter and I’ll damned well see her when I want to,” the other man blustered, confirming that he was, indeed, Jackson Noble III.
“So that you can damage her more than you already have?” Sandro asked, almost shaking with rage. “I won’t let you get close enough to hurt her like that again. And you can forget about getting that grandson you want anytime soon. I refuse to give you the pleasure.”
“Well then stay married to her until you do, or give up the vineyard,” her father sneered.
“The vineyard never meant as much to me as it did my father. You can have the damned place back. I want your grasping paws out of my business and the taint of your presence away from my marriage. You won’t be getting your hooks into Theresa again and you most certainly will not be any kind of presence in our children’s lives.”
“Sandro…” Theresa sat up slightly. “It’s okay. I want to speak with him.”
“Theresa…” his voice shook with anger as he stepped into her slightly darkened room. “No.”
“It’s okay,” she smiled, her lips trembling. “He doesn’t have the power to hurt me anymore. I want to see him.”
“Theresa…”
“Sandro.” Her voice was firm and brooked no argument and he sighed, before stepping aside to let her father in.
“Father,” she nodded warily as she watched the large, handsome man whose affection and approval she had craved her entire life enter the room.
“Theresa, you look none the worse for wear,” he observed in the cold, distant voice he always used on her and she immediately went back to that insecure little girl who had never understood why her daddy didn’t hug her and didn’t want to spend time with her.
“Have you seen my daughter yet?” She asked, her voice strong and sure. Not betraying the little girl who still lurked somewhere inside.
“Not yet, no…” he seemed uncertain. Seeing the new strength in her and not sure what to make of it.
“It’s funny…” she suddenly observed. “What having a baby does to you, you would go out of your way to protect that new life from anybody who would threaten its happiness. I won’t allow you to hurt my baby the way you hurt me. I don’t want you in her life… not unless you’re prepared to love her in the way you were unable to love me: wholeheartedly and unconditionally.” As if on cue a nurse brought a fretting, pink-wrapped bundle into the room. She paused for a moment, sensing the tension in the room… before pasting a bright smile onto her lips and bringing the baby over to Theresa.