The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(44)
Author: Natasha Anders

“Sandro, bro…” Rick managed in a voice that barely trembled with laughter. “Did you go raiding all the wards in the hospital for those?”
“These were all the seriously under-stocked gift shop had,” Sandro grumbled, obviously sensitive to Rick’s mockery, which raised Theresa’s brows because she had never heard her self-assured husband sound so defensive before.
“Thank you, Sandro,” she said before Rick could come back with anything else. “I love helium balloons.”
“I know you do,” he said fiercely… surging forward until he elbowed Rick aside and stood staring down at her intently. “I know that you like helium balloons and pink gerbera daisies. I know that you like truffles,” he shoved the gift-wrapped box, which probably contained truffles, and wilted pink daisies into her arms. “I do know things about you, Theresa. I’ve been learning.”
“Uhm…” okay? Right, so he remembered the conversation they’d had months ago when she’d accused him of knowing nothing about her and he’d obviously been paying attention during their evenings together but what on earth was he trying to prove with this? “Thank you.”
It was all she could think of to say and she saw both Rick and Lisa wince and watched Sandro’s shoulders droop slightly before he nodded.
“You’re welcome,” he muttered in a devastatingly unemotional voice, as he took a step back from the bed. “I’ve postponed my trip to Italy. I want to make sure that you get the rest you’re supposed to.”
“Okay,” she nodded.
“Good…” he seemed to be at a loss for a moment looking unsure of his next move, before he reached out to stroke one soft cheek. “Are you feeling better?”
“Fine,” she whispered. “A little tired.”
“Righty-o…” Rick sing-songed. “That’s our cue to vamoose…”
“Oh but I didn’t mean…” Theresa was appalled that they thought she was hinting that she wanted them to leave.
“No, you didn’t,” Lisa smiled don’t at her. “But you are tired and you do need your rest. I’ll leave the clothes right here,” she dropped a small canvas bag onto the visitor’s chair. “Call if you need anything.”
After a flurry of hugs and kisses they were gone, leaving her grim-faced silent husband behind. Theresa sneaked a glance up at said grim-faced, silent husband and was suddenly attacked by a fit of irreverent giggles. Now that nobody was around to witness it she felt free to laugh at the image he presented. He looked like an underdressed, forlorn clown with those balloons clutched in his hand.
“What?” He asked, the grim façade melting away in the face of her amusement.
“It’s just… those balloons, Sandro…” she snorted, trying to control the giggles and his own, devastating grin lit up his face.
“I know, right?” He shook his head sadly as he tied the balloons to her bedpost. “A hospital without a single ‘get-well-soon’ balloon in sight. Craziness.”
“Thank you for them anyway. They always brighten up a room.”
“I remember you saying that when you talked about a friend’s tenth birthday party. You wanted some for your own…” but she hadn’t even had a party that year, much less balloons. She didn’t even know why she’d confessed that sorry tale to him. There was an awkward silence while he stood hovering at her bedside.
“You don’t have to stay, Sandro…” she whispered. “Why don’t you go into the office and get some work done? I am sure you have better things to do than hang around here.”
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he gritted implacably. He reached over and took the truffles and flowers from her arms. Dumping the box on her bedside table and sticking the flowers into the half full plastic water canister that a nurse had left on the over bed table. He dragged up the chair that Lisa had recently abandoned, moving the bag to the floor and sitting down almost defiantly.
“Okay,” she was too tired to argue and truth be told, rather relieved to have him there. For a long time neither of them said anything, he leaned back in the uncomfortable looking chair and stared off into space, while Theresa lowered her lashes and watched him surreptitiously, marveling at his absolute stillness. He was usually filled with so much restless energy, always on the move, typing away at his laptop or fiddling with his BlackBerry or barking orders into the telephone and when he wasn’t doing anything work-related, he would swim endless laps or work out in their home gym. She had never seen him simply sitting down and staring off into the distance and it disturbed her in a way that she could not quite define.
“Do you think my father will come to see me?” Theresa broke the silence nearly half an hour later, having half-dozed in the interim. Sandro’s eyes met hers and he shook his head grimly.
“Highly unlikely, since he doesn’t know you’re here,” he shrugged and she gasped, struggling to sit up.
“But how could you not tell him?” She asked, rather offended on her father’s behalf. The man was a bully and a tyrant but he was her father.
“The doctor said you shouldn’t be upset and I can’t quite envision a visit from your father being anything other than stressful for you,” he said sarcastically. He was right, her father would antagonize Sandro, which would upset her and they would all wind up arguing. It was always the same. She sank back feeling depressed and sad and Sandro’s gaze gentled.