Page 98 of Winter
They had decided to sell the mansion and move everything back to Italy. Inca was glad. Although she had always loved her home state and her own country, she didn’t feel like she belonged anymore. She didn’t belong anymore.
Raffaelo touched her cheek. “Let’s get warmed up. Then we can talk about what our plans are.”
Olly sawthe limousine snake up the hill to the Winter mansion and felt his body tremble. She was back. Inca had called him, somewhat nervously, to tell him she was coming to visit, to settle Nancy’s matters, and to say goodbye. She was really leaving for good. Olly couldn’t quite get a handle on it. He’d expressed his sadness, and Inca had cried a little.
“It’s not like you don’t have a passport,” she had said eventually, a little annoyed, and he’d laughed then.
“That’s better; now you sound like you.”
He heard her chuckle. “I miss you, Olly.”
“I miss you too, Inks.”
Now she was home, and he was strangely nervous about seeing her. They’d agreed to meet the next day and talk; then, later in the week, Inca asked if they could go and lay some flowers on Luna’s grave.
“Of course we can,” Olly said softly, letting Inca know he didn’t blame her for what had happened.
He drove back to the police station and pulled off his coat. He felt as if this visit—Inca’s last visit home, probably—would be one where they would hash out everything. Olly had never forgiven himself for how he’d behaved when she’d met the Winters—his jealousy, he knew now, had made him go crazy for a while, buying the Sakura apartment and not telling Inca, and buying that hideous house in the woods—what the hell had he been thinking?
Since Luna’s suicide, Olly had been seeing a psychiatrist and taking medication. Both he and Luna had been diagnosed with a personality disorder but had left it untreated all their adult lives. He was sure now that that was why he had dumped Inca in the first place. If they’d both been treated, maybe Luna—and Scarlett—would be alive now.
God, the things we do to each other …
“Hey again.” Her voice broke through his reverie and he realized he had been daydreaming. Belinda stood in front of him.
“Would you like to come to the new coffee shop?”
He was silent for a moment, then smiled coolly. “No, thank you. Actually, I need to run some errands, so …’” He got up. Belinda looked surprised.
“Oh … okay, then …Hey, come over for dinner later, to the house, I mean. It’s just an Irish stew, but there’ll be plenty to go around.”
He inclined his head and smiled. “Thank you, but not tonight. I’ll be seeing you. Belinda.”
He left quickly, aware he had surprised her, possibly even hurt her feelings. He climbed into his car and sat for a while, watching her walk down the street. Maybe he had been too dismissive.
“Belinda?” He got out of the car as she turned. “I’m sorry. I was rude. I can’t make dinner, but yes, shall we grab a coffee now?”
He was surprised how grateful she looked and felt better. There was no need for any unpleasantness. After all, he needed all the friends he could around here.
Tommaso excusedhimself at ten p.m., and Inca and Raffaelo walked slowly up to their room. A good meal, two bottles of a superb red, and Inca was feeling very chilled out. Raffaelo grinned at her.
“You are drunk, Ms. Sardee …”
She giggled and wound her arms around him before, suddenly, her face dropped. Frowning, Raffaelo looked in her eyes.
“What is it?”
“Oh God …”
“What?”
“My name will be …Inca Winter.”
Raffaelo burst out laughing, half with relief. “God, you scared me. I thought something was really wrong.”
“It is! My name will be Inca Winter!’ she moaned, but, seeing her lover collapsed with laughter, she started giggling too. “Stop laughing, you with your sexy sexy name. Think of your wife’s humiliation.”
He pulled her down on top of him, rolling her onto her back on the bed. “If it bothers you that much, keep your name. Or I’ll take your name.”
