Postcards From… Collection. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.

       EPILOGUE

      ‘I’M FINDING IT hard to adjust to the sight of my husband driving his own car.’ Nicole smiled, resting on her hand on Rigo’s forearm as he guided the SUV around another tight bend in the narrow French country road.

      ‘I’m probably taking the concept of Sunday driving a bit too literally.’ Rigo gestured to the leisurely speed on the digital panel. ‘I chose luxury over speed, seeing as the Ferrari wasn’t an option.’

      He looked briefly over his shoulder and smiled.

      Nicole followed his gaze to where Anna slept peacefully in her car seat. How had an entire year passed since she had first laid eyes on her baby girl? When she thought back to that day in the hospital, holding her daughter’s tiny hand and wondering if Rigo had any idea he had just become a father...

      Never in her wildest dreams would she have expected to be sitting next to him on their daughter’s first birthday, married and planning a long, happy life together.

      The object of her thoughts laid his hand on her thigh, jolting her from her smiling reverie.

      ‘Do you recognise the road yet?’ He raised a brow, a devilish smile on his lips.

      Nicole shook her head and peered out at the rolling French countryside, trying in vain to spot anything familiar. They had headed away from Paris on one of the many motorways that wove in networks across the country. Her attention had been monopolised by Anna for the first half of the journey, so she had no idea where they were.

      Rigo gestured to the road ahead of them, where a sign was appearing on the horizon. Nicole squinted, trying to make out the small black lettering. Suddenly her breath caught. Her eyes darted to her husband’s face before flying back to the road as a tiny town came into view.

      ‘You’ve brought me to L’Annique?’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Rigo...’

      ‘I thought it would be a nice tradition to spend Anna’s birthday here every year.’

      Nicole fought against the wave of emotion rising in her chest as they passed the small church on top of the hill and looked down on the place that had been her first slice of normality. La Petite was the farmhouse where she had started to become her true self—where she had let go of the pretences of her old life and embarked upon a new adventure.

      ‘You are a true romantic, Rigo Marchesi, do you know that?’ She smiled, grabbing his hand and putting it to her face, feeling an overwhelming love for the powerful man by her side. ‘We could have lunch in Madame Laurent’s café. It’s nothing special, but I used to eat there regularly.’

      ‘Actually, I had something else in mind.’

      He guided the car around a corner and began driving up a familiar road. The last time Nicole had seen this laneway it had been filled with paparazzi, but today it was blissfully clear and lined with beautiful summer wildflowers. The gate to her rented house came into view, along with the familiar blue-grey roof of the farmhouse that had been her home.

      She fought the urge to jump with excitement when Rigo drove into the courtyard and brought the car to a stop. They stepped out into the glorious sunshine, and the familiar smell of cut grass and bluebells washed over her. This place was like a balm to her soul, reminding her of that first choice she had made on the path to becoming the woman she was today.

      She walked over to the small fountain on the lawn and ran her fingers across the ageing stone. ‘I’m not sure the owner would like us trespassing, but I’m glad you brought me here. Thank you, amore,’ she whispered, walking back to lay a single kiss on his lips.

      ‘Oh, I’m sure the owner won’t mind,’ Rigo said, turning to peer through the window of the car. ‘She seems to be sleeping at the moment, but you can ask her once she wakes.’

      It took a moment for his words to sink in to her love-clouded brain. Then Nicole looked up at him in disbelief. ‘The owner is Anna? Wait...you bought the farmhouse?’

      Rigo nodded once, gesturing to the grand old building. ‘It’s kind of her birthday present.’ He smiled. ‘I thought it could be our weekend getaway. Somewhere we can just be together. No housekeepers or chauffeurs. It’s probably a little too extravagant for a first birthday, but...’

      ‘It’s perfect.’ Nicole shook her head, feeling happy tears threaten behind her eyelids. Swallowing hard, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His eyes were so mesmerisingly blue in the sunshine that she almost forgot what she wanted to say.

      He took her silence as a chance to continue. ‘I remembered how fondly you spoke of this place and all the memories you’d made here together.’ His voice trailed off, a strange look entering his eyes. ‘I wanted to give that back to you—even if it reminds me of the time you both spent together without me. A time that I’m not proud of.’

      ‘Rigo, you were always a part of this place.’ Nicole sighed, stepping back and looking up at the picturesque whitewashed facade of her old home. ‘A day never passed here when I didn’t think of you, or talk to Anna about her papà. I had always planned to tell her about you some day.’

      Rigo took a step towards her, taking her face in his hands. ‘I hate to think of you here alone. Cursing me for being such a stubborn fool.’

      Nicole looked up into the troubled eyes of the man she loved with all her heart. She knew he still struggled with missing the first months of his daughter’s life.

      ‘Rigo, our past is only there to pave the way for our future. Look at what we have now—look at the family we have built together. I for one wouldn’t change a single thing.’

      * * *

      Rigo felt her words soothe the tightness in his chest. The look of pure love on her face made him hold her even tighter as he kissed her. It was one of maybe a thousand kisses they had shared since becoming husband and wife, and yet it was different. With this kiss the last piece of their past seemed to melt away, leaving in its wake only this one glorious moment. She was his and she always had been, from the moment he had taken her hand on that ballroom floor.

      Rigo ended the kiss, looking back towards the open car door as a familiar gurgle could be heard breaking the calm. With a few strides he bent to scoop his daughter from her seat and deftly placed a small sun hat on her tiny head. Anna smiled up at him, her cheeks rosy from slumber. He had never expected for this to feel so right—holding his child in his arms and wanting to spend every moment of every day with her. But once he had given in to the overwhelming love his natural paternal instincts had soon followed.

      ‘Happy birthday, piccolina.’

      He dropped a kiss on Anna’s cheek, wrapping his other arm around his wife. All that time he had spent trying to conquer the world from the boardroom meant nothing compared to holding his whole world in his arms at that moment.

      ‘Cent’anni,’ he whispered to them both. ‘To a hundred years.’

      * * * * *

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