“I don’t know about that. They have quite a bit of you. Their eyes are yours. The sweet shape of their faces, you again.” Marilena watched them stoop to examine a yellow winged butterfly that had landed on a rock. “They could have quite a modeling career. Have you talked to any agencies? I’m sure Marco could open doors.”

Just hearing the princess mention Marco’s name so casually sent flickers of fresh pain through her. Payton drew a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think the girls are ready for modeling. I think they just need to be little girls.”

“As always, Mother knows best. And look, here’s Marco now. He’s come home to have lunch with us all.”

It was early June and lunch was being served in the garden. The housemaids had carried a large wooden table into the sunshine and covered it with a fine linen cloth then set the table with large glazed ceramic plates and sparkling glassware.

The twins nibbled on olives as the adults talked. Marco opened a bottle of wine, a light red perfect for the weather and a midday meal. It seemed almost natural, Payton thought, the five of them sitting down to lunch together. Marilena was really lovely. She and Marco seemed so calm and easy together. They’d be good parents for the girls as well.

Payton looked at the girls, her gaze growing fond. They were dropping spoonfuls of buttery noodles into their mouth between whispers to each other. They loved pasta—had grown up on pasta—and she could tell it was a treat for them to be here, eating outside in the sun, wearing simple cotton sundresses that left their shoulders bare.

Her heart folded over just looking at them. She loved the girls so much it ached inside. Did all mothers feel this way? Did they all dread the day their babies grew up and would move away?

She felt eyes on her and turning, met Marco’s gaze. His expression was closed, and yet intense. He’d said virtually nothing to her all lunch, keeping his conversation directed at Marilena and the girls, and yet now they faced each other across a void as big as the Atlantic Ocean she’d just flown over.

Her heart seemed to fold once more and she drew in a small, shallow breath, hating that she felt absolutely confused by collision of past and present.

Being with Marco again made her realize that the love wasn’t dead after all. It was just buried. Deeply.

Buried so far below, packed so tightly down she’d tried to pretend that there’d been nothing there, nothing between them. No sparks, no chemistry, no emotions of any kind.

She’d managed to convince herself after one too many afternoons weeping in the shower that it was all a trick of her imagination, a projection of her loneliness.

He’d never loved her and the truth hurt so much she had to take her heart and break it open, empty the tenderness, the hope, the need and pretend she’d never felt anything. That she’d never wanted anything. That she’d never wanted him.

Tears surged to her eyes and she blinked rapidly, denying them now, just as she had denied everything else these past three years.

It was going to be rough getting through this, making the visit work, accomplishing what she’d set out to do.

Lunch over, Marco stood and said something about spending time with Marilena before returning to work. Payton heard the girls say goodbye to Marilena, their little voices chiming together, as they often did and Marilena leaned forward to kiss the girls once on each cheek before Marco and Marilena walked away from the table, arm in arm.

An hour later, Payton quietly stepped from the girls’ bedroom having tucked them in and reassured herself that they were truly resting.

She stood in the doorway and watched them sleep. Their dark curls spread across the pillowcase.