Resisting The Italian Single Dad. Katrina Cudmore

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СКАЧАТЬ future you had envisioned, and losing that must be very hard.’

      He wanted to thump the steering wheel hard with the palm of his hand. Carly’s words were resonating deep inside him. He didn’t just miss Marta, he missed the future they had mapped out together, he missed the support of co-parenting, he missed having someone to talk to. All selfish things that only added to his guilt that Marta had died so young, that she would never see Isabella grow up. Marta would despair over just how out of sync he and Isabella were—their relationship was more often than not a battle of wills, and at the moment Isabella was winning. Of course he adored his daughter but he worried deeply about how dependent she was on him, which only seemed to be worsening in recent months, given her tendency to cling to him and her refusal to be cared for by others. How would she cope if anything ever happened to him?

      ‘Isabella’s nanny walked out yesterday. Dr Segal referred me to you this morning when I took Isabella to see her. She said you have helped some of her other patients.’

      ‘Your nanny walked out on you because of Isabella’s sleeping?’

      ‘Yes.’ He glanced over and saw that she had an eyebrow raised, not buying it. He shifted in his seat, gripped the steering wheel tighter. ‘The fact that I’m away a lot of the time is probably a factor too.’

      ‘How often are you away?’

      ‘Two…sometimes three nights a week. When she was younger I took Isabella with me but the travel was too much for her.’

      ‘She’s probably missing you a lot—and the fact that you are coming and going means she has no consistency, which will have an impact on her ability to sleep.’

      Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact, which annoyed him as much as what she had to say. ‘It’s the nature of my work… I don’t have a choice.’

      ‘I’ve never come across a situation that doesn’t have alternative choices, or solutions. What is it that you do?’

      Maybe she should try living his life some time. In architecture, you were only as good as your last design and winning bids was a never-ending cycle of late nights and client meetings. ‘I’m an architect and property developer—my main office is here in London with other offices in Milan and Shanghai. My clients are worldwide, as are my properties.’

      ‘My guess is Isabella needs more stability and routine to sleep better at night.’

      Reluctantly he nodded. She was right. And he needed Carly’s help in establishing that routine. It was time he started broaching his plans with her. ‘I have to leave for my second home on Lake Como later this week. My in-laws live there, and my father-in-law is celebrating his sixtieth birthday on Friday evening, and on Sunday my brother-in-law, Tomaso, is marrying. I have no choice but to go—Isabella is a flower girl at the wedding. I’ve no idea how she will behave. I need her to sleep in the nights before—that way hopefully she might not throw a tantrum, which she’s prone to do at the moment.’

      Along Harrow Road they came to a stop while the driver of a concrete mixer ahead in the road tried to manoeuvre into a narrow construction site entrance. He turned to her and asked, ‘Will you work for me for the rest of this week, come to Lake Como this weekend, to help me in getting Isabella to sleep? I’ll pay you generously.’

      Carly looked at him and then turned to stare at a nearby billboard advertising happiness via a deodorant, trying to contain her irritation. He was a client, clearly in need. But seriously! She turned back to him, cursing once again that he was so distractingly handsome, and tried to keep her voice calm. ‘I’m a sleep consultant, Mr Lovato, not a nanny.’

      ‘I know that.’

      She forced herself to hold his gaze, even though his misty green eyes did something peculiar to her heartbeat. ‘Do you?’ She waited a pause before adding dryly, ‘I’m busy with other clients all of this week and have my own plans for the weekend.’

      ‘Nina told me earlier that you were on annual leave Friday—can’t you at least come to Lake Como with us?’

      Nina! What had got into her this morning? ‘No—I’ve rented a cottage in Devon; I like to surf. I’ve been planning this trip since the New Year.’ Why was she telling him this? Why did she feel she had to justify saying no to him?

      ‘I’ll pay for you to rebook.’

      ‘I don’t provide the type of service you are looking for. Yes, I visit clients’ homes but I don’t stay overnight or get involved in childcare. I provide a bespoke plan that parents follow over a period of months. Isabella is not going to be sleeping through the night any time soon—it doesn’t work that way. My approach to your child sleeping contentedly takes time, patience and consistency.’

      The traffic ahead of them began to flow again. Max eased his car forward, the expensive engine barely making a noise. ‘I’m not asking you to get involved in the childcare.’ His tone was one hundred per cent exasperation. ‘Isabella barely slept last night. I flew in from Chicago yesterday. She’s exhausted. I’m jet-lagged.’ He rubbed his brow and continued to stare forwards. ‘We need help.’ His voice was so low, Carly had to lean towards him to hear him. ‘This weekend…with Marta’s family, the wedding…it’s going to be trying. I want them to see that Isabella is happy and well cared for.’

      Carly dropped her head and studied her hands, thrown by the honesty of his words. ‘I’ve bookings all of this week. I can’t—’

      ‘Come to Lake Como with us this weekend.’

      She closed her eyes to the soft appeal in his voice. The image of him standing alone on the street staring after Isabella’s stroller, looking so alone, and then the anguish she had witnessed when he had turned towards the building had her tempted to say yes. But she needed to think this through. How many times had she believed others only to find out a very different truth? Not only did she have a stepfather who used his wealth to keep her at a distance, who thought throwing cash at her made up for a lack of love and affection and his poorly disguised belief that she would never be as good as his own three daughters, but Carly had trusted her own father when he promised he would visit her when her mother had ended their marriage. That promise had lasted all of twelve months until he decided to emigrate to New Zealand. Men had a habit of smashing her trust in them—her ex, Robert, had told her he loved her only to break off their engagement weeks before their wedding, telling her that he couldn’t marry her because he was still in love with his ex. Carly had learned never truly to believe or trust in others, always to dig deeper to find out the truth.

      She needed more facts and details before she made any decision…and Isabella’s father needed to understand that she provided no magical cure for disturbed sleep. She buzzed down her window, needing some air. ‘I don’t sleep train. I don’t give you any magical formulas. I just assist in building a routine and developing the correct expectations in parents as to how children sleep. There’s no instant cure. There’s just slow improvement over weeks, if not months.’

      ‘I will take on board everything you have to say.’

      ‘Yes, but will you actually implement what I suggest? It takes a lot of time and patience.’

      His jaw worked for a moment. ‘It depends on how persuasive you are.’

      The hint of humour in his voice was matched by a glint of defiance in his eyes when he glanced in her direction.

      Despite herself, Carly found herself СКАЧАТЬ