Page 42 of Storm in a D Cup

Had Julian jacked me up so much with how great I was all these years that the minute he was away I needed male attention?Shouldn’tit have been the opposite – that Julian had jacked me up so much I actually didn’tneedany more attention? Was I at the point where I needed a man to keep me uplifted? Whatever happened tome, the old Erica Cantelli who ran her life and raised a family single-handedly while bringing home the bacon? Well, she got depressed and lost her confidence while trying to have a baby, that’s what happened.

Ah, but not for long! Because things would eventually change. Maybe even on a dime. Yes, why not? I could do this! Keep my manandgive him a baby, no matter what Dottoressa Bardotti said – for all we knew, I could get pregnant in a few weeks’ time. And where did your smarty-pants theories go now, Doc? Huh? Too old and too fat my foot.

The next day I went out and got some more stinging nettles, famous for enhancing fertility. I wished I could call Renata up, just to tell her, just for a laugh. But she had been clear. She wanted to be alone.

12

Games People Play

One week later Julian came home.

At my mea-culpa-esque questions about his trip, he quietly answered that yes, he’d met the right people, established new contacts, and was now waiting to hear. But he didn’t want to elaborate, and did I mind if he had a nap because he was tired?

Too tired to just sit and talk with me? Oh boy. Hewasstill cross with me. This was starting to look like when we last fell out. I prayedthatwould never happen again. I couldn’t take losing him.

Because I didn’t want to make him any more miserable than he already was lately, I still didn’t dare tell him about the IVF failure. Because he seemed less sympathetic every time, less worried and probably more concerned with other matters. I only wish I knew what they were. It seemed that lately my nearest and dearest had maxed out on me and needed their space.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Uhm, good nap, then. And sleep well…’

‘Yeah,’ he answered distractedly and as he scooped up his cell phone off the counter, he leaned in, surprising me, and kissed me hard, almost angrily, as if he wanted to get back at me for the gardener and my bush joke. And make sure I knewhewas still head rooster in this yard. That was a good sign at the end of the day then, right?

‘Does this mean you forgive me?’ I ventured.

He growled, ‘Don’t push your luck.’ And then he happened to look out the window to where said gardener, dressed only in a pair of teeny-tiny shorts, was washing his heavenly bod under the outdoor shower like in an old Coca-Cola ad. Or was it Levi’s? I can’t remember.

We both watched as the Adonis shook his wet mane of the excess water and rubbed his face and time seemed to slow down as the droplets seemed to reluctantly fan out around him, not wanting to leave. He was indeed something to look at. He also looked like I’d planted him right there and then with a script:barely clad hunk stretches his fab bod under the water jets in slow motion.Well, let’s be honest, I could’ve hired Mr. Alessi, Renata’s elderly gardener. But he didn’t look anything like Piero. Even a straight man like Julian had to admit it. I figured it was payback time for bringing Genie Stacie into the house.

‘Bloomin’heck –is that him – the new gardener? Where’d you find him, in an issue of… never mind.’

I said nothing. He hated when I argued, because, according to him, I could turn a saint into a psychopath.

Julian’s mouth clamped shut too as he turned away from the window. Not good.

‘So,’ I said breezily. ‘Tell me more about your movie talks?’

‘Not now.’ And with that he plunked his bottle onto the counter and picked up his suitcase from where he’d left it, throwing his laundry into the washer just off the kitchen. Shirts, trousers, socks, briefs.

Shit. I had some major damage control to do here. ‘Tell you what,’ I ventured. ‘Why don’t we go upstairs and have a nice shower?’ Which was code for,Let’s have sex and forget about the whole thing, yes?

To which he readily responded, ‘I’m too angry right now,’ while snapping the washer door shut and brushing past me. ‘I’m going for a ride.’

‘But I thought you said you were tired…?’

‘Not just physically, Erica.’

‘Julian…?’

‘I need to clear my mind.’

And with that, he stalked out of the kitchen and out of the house as a slow, licking flame of panic began to burn inside me.

A minute later, Maddy arrived and opened the fridge door.

‘You’re late. Where were you?’ I demand.

‘At Angelica’s,’ she replied, opening a carton of juice.

‘That’s funny. I called Angelica’s mom who said you were out. Do you want to tell me what you’re up to?’

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