Misfit pieces still lay abandoned in the full puzzle. Bailey thought of the letters they’d read and tried to focus on the big picture. “Do you know if she actually went to Rome? Or you’re not sure?”
His lips tightened. “Not sure. I assumed, I think. We didn’t speak when she was away. I tried to give her space.”
Bailey bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to ask but had to. “Why, Dad? Why did you guys need that time apart?”
He hesitated, and she didn’t think he’d answer. He seemed to struggle with telling the truth but then finally blurted out the words. “I cheated on her.”
Bailey groaned and dropped her head. “Oh God, Dad. Again!”
“It was just once! We were having some issues—things I’m not about to discuss with you—and I slipped up. Of course she was devastated and said she needed some time alone.”
“Did this happen when I was little and I don’t remember anything?”
“No, you weren’t born yet. Pris was about four at the time and went to Boston to stay with your grandmother.”
“What happened?”
Dad sighed. “She came back and we both decided our marriage was worth saving. I knew I had to earn her forgiveness and I did. Shortly after, we found out she was pregnant with Dev.” His amber eyes held shadows from the past. “We were happy after that for a long time.”
“Until you cheated again.”
He winced. “I know. Don’t think I don’t regret it every damn day. But we weren’t happy, Bae. I wish I could explain, but until you’re in that same position, it’s hard to see my side of the story.”
She stared at her father. Obviously weary, he was still a handsome man with his thick hair, beautiful brown-gold eyes, and robust personality. When she was growing up, he had laser-like focus that made Bailey believe she was the most important person in the room. He played hard and never acted like one of those fussy dads who refused to get dirty. He never made her feel like he missed out by not having a son—he took her skiing and skating and taught her how to pitch a wicked softball.
When he was home.
Even though she hated what he’d done, Bailey knew her father was a decent man. He’d been a solid father, supportive and loving, even if he was also a workaholic. Bailey also knew her sisters would freak if they heard this story. They barely had a decent relationship with him, not able to get over his cheating.
But at least they’d believed it only happened once. Knowing he’d betrayed Mom previously would make things even worse. Bailey swore to never tell them.
Some secrets weren’t meant to be told.
But the more Bailey dug, the more questions she had. Had her mother seen her secret lover during that missing week? Had she cheated on Dad to gain revenge?
A familiar ache grew and spread in her gut. The moment she’d unveiled the deed to the house, Bailey realized it could be the key to truly understanding her mother. Not as a type of role she played to her daughters, but who she was at her core. Bailey wasn’t afraid to find out. Not like Pris and Devon, who’d put Mom on a pedestal and tried to make her proud by following in her footsteps. Yet, now, maybe they questioned their choices because Mom had surprised them all.
A secret lover. A hidden house in Amalfi. A mystery to solve.
Yes. It was time to go.
“What are you doing out here?”
The male voice hit her ears at the same time strong hands wrapped around her naked waist and pulled her against him. She leaned her head against his shoulder and let her body relax into his. “Stargazing. Getting some air.”
His husky laugh rumbled in the night air. “Buck naked? Ever heard of cell phones? There could be a video rolling as we speak.”
“It’s too dark, I’d see the flash. Besides, I’m tired of all the puritanical judgment of the female body. If they want to make something sexual out of my time with nature, they don’t deserve my attention.”
Will tightened his grip. “Maybe I just don’t want anyone enjoying the view of my woman,” he said.
Bailey knew he shot for a teasing remark, but the slight ruffle of possession filtered through. He was getting attached. She’d been wary when they first dove into their affair. After all, he was the theater director in a small town, so most of their time was spent together in rehearsals. It was common for relationships to form between the cast and production crew. She enjoyed Will, with his full beard and intelligent dark eyes, and his perspective on the world fascinated her. He was a people watcher, a perfectionist, and these past few weeks she’d soaked up his knowledge and presence and sexual prowess with enthusiasm.
But now it was getting too intense. Expectation simmered in his gaze, and though a shred of her—ego?—savored the excitement of being wanted, Bailey wasn’t about to commit herself to one man or one relationship.
Maybe she never would.
A deep discussion wasn’t her style, so she turned in his arms, reaching up to kiss him at the same time she gently berated him. “Chauvinist. I belong to myself. Now, why don’t you ditch the clothes and dance with me under the moonlight?”
He lifted her up and walked back toward the house. “I prefer a warm, dry bed rather than getting grass stains on my ass.”
She laughed against his lips even though he’d failed the test. Bailey craved a man to match her inner soul—a man who’d never cage or try to leash but rather would run beside her. Will was a good man. It’d be better if she disappeared for a while and let him find someone else. The play closed in a week. He said he’d been working on a script just for her, but she was afraid that would bring further attachment between them. Better to dive into something else and give acting a break for a while. Maybe painting again, where she could lose herself in wild colors and shapes and visions. Things that needed to be captured in something bigger than a simple photograph.
There was nothing to hold her back. Pris wanted to figure out who R was, and Devon wanted to sell the house. Maybe they’d go together, put things in order, and she’d take a break. Reset and decide what to do next. Besides, she liked the idea of gaining a glimpse into her mother’s past.
Italy was calling and she was ready to answer.
“Where’d you go?” he growled against her neck, placing her down on the soft comforter.
A pang of emotion she couldn’t name, and didn’t want to, coursed through her. His gaze promised her more if she only asked. But Bailey never did.
Instead, she smiled and lifted her arms. “I’m right here.”
And for tonight, she was.
chapter eight
Olivia