“I love you,” she said earnestly in her sister’s ear when their heads were close.
Amanda pulled back and studied her face. Tears filled her blue eyes.
“I love you, too,” Amanda said.
Emma put out her arms to Colin, who looked shocked by the gesture. She noticed Vanni’s eyebrows go up in doubtful wariness across the room, but he didn’t say anything. As she watched him over Colin’s shoulder, his guardedness and skepticism slowly faded and was replaced with a small smile.
The couple left them alone. Emma had been placed in a private room—a fact that she firmly believed Vanni was responsible for, even though he’d merely shrugged and changed the subject when she’d asked him about it earlier.
Vanni pulled up a chair close to her bed. A nurs
e’s aide knocked and entered. She poured a glass of ice water for Emma and left the pitcher on her bedside table. After the aide left, Vanni leaned forward and grabbed Emma’s hand. Emma hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off him all day. He was a miracle to her. The feelings she was having were miraculous, too. Yet all the while in the background, a black, heavy threat hovered. She was going to have to tell him about Cristina, and soon. From what he’d told her about his confrontation with Vera on the phone earlier, Vera might be vindictive and pounce the truth on him at any time.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, the low, gravelly sound of his voice making her skin prickle with awareness.
“Fine. Ready to go home,” she replied with a sigh because he was lazily stroking the skin of her inner forearm, and it felt so good.
“Well you’re going to have to be patient,” he replied, giving her an amused, pointed glance. “Since we have plenty of time, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
She tensed, her gaze sharpening on him. “What do you mean?”
“There’s something weighing on you,” he said matter-of-factly, still stroking her arm. “You’re not very good at hiding things, baby,” he chastised her when she gave him a forced look of surprise. She grimaced and he gave a gruff laugh. He stood and she scooted over for him to sit on the edge of her bed. He squeezed her hand. “Just say it, Emma. I’m not going anywhere.”
“No?” she asked, attempting to smile but not succeeding very well, given the way his gaze narrowed on her face with concern.
“Not a chance. I’ve told you I’m not letting you go. I’m willing to face death again, if I have to, that’s what today taught me . . . that’s what last night did.”
“Last night?” she asked curiously.
He gave her a stern glance. “I’ll tell you about it another time. Right now, you talk about what’s on your mind. Does it have to do with something Vera said that night you came to the Breakers to meet me, and I asked her to find you and tell you we were landing a little late? I wasn’t sure you’d picked up my phone messages.”
“A little late?” Emma asked, surprise temporarily making her forget the anxious topic. “She told me you wouldn’t be returning that night.”
“She lied,” he stated flatly. “She was likely lying about whatever it was that she said to spook you as well.”
Emma recalled the official-looking birth certificates. “I wish she was lying,” she whispered. An image of Vera waving those pieces of paper in front of her face sprung up in her mind’s eye. For the first time, she realized Vanni’s aunt had gone and gotten the birth certificates on purpose. She’d known Emma would be at the Breakers, alone and vulnerable, and she’d prepared for battle. Maybe Vanni saw something on her face, because he squeezed her hand. Her gaze flickered to his face.
“Tell me,” he said.
“It’s just . . . you’re . . . you’re not going to like it, Vanni.”
“Does it have to do with you?” he asked, his blue-green eyes looking like gleaming crescents as he peered down at her through narrowed lids.
She shook her head, looking away from his stare.
“Emma, as long as you’re fine and you’ve given up on this crazy idea about not seeing me anymore, I can take it,” he said. “Everything else is a breeze compared to thinking something had happened to you, worrying I was never going to have the chance to see you again.” His finger brushed across her jaw. “Touch you. Tell you how I really felt about you,” he said more quietly.
She went still beneath his caress. “And . . . how is that, again?”
“Are you trying to sidestep the issue?” he asked quietly, humor quirking his mouth.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted, meeting his stare earnestly.
A smile quivered on his firm lips. Her love for him swelled like a balloon expanding in her chest, threatening to burst.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, his fingertip brushing across the bridge of her nose. “There’s nothing more important than what’s happening between us.”
“Really?”