Rebel with a Cause (14 page)

T
HE
door opened. Lorenzo turned his head as the woman burst in.

‘Where—?' She broke off, gulping as she saw the pale figure in the bed. ‘Oh, Sophy.' The tears sprang just like that. ‘Is she going to be okay?'

Lorenzo stood but didn't answer and didn't move away. He looked beyond her to the man who'd stopped on the thresh old. After a moment that man walked to the other side of the bed and looked down at his daughter for a time, his expression rigid. Then he looked at Lorenzo for even longer, even more frozen.

‘I know you.' He didn't smile.

‘Yes.' Lorenzo still held her hand. His fingers tightened instinctively. ‘I'm not leaving.'

‘I can see that.'

‘Yeah.' Lorenzo sat down again.

‘Beth, this is…' He kept staring at Lorenzo.

‘Lorenzo. Lorenzo Hall.'

‘That's right.' He nodded slowly. Lorenzo just knew it had all come back to him now.

‘Do you know each other?' Her mother looked from her father to him.

Lorenzo looked at the man who had once judged him. Who'd once before given him a chance. And waited.

‘Not really.'

Lorenzo looked down at the bed.

‘You're a friend of Sophy's?' her mother asked.

‘Yes.'

In the silence, nothing more was said.

The guilt was swamping him. It was his fault. If he hadn't made her so upset. If she'd hadn't been at the damn warehouse. If she hadn't run so fast, so blindly from him.

Her blonde hair was spread on the pillow with its perfect curls on the ends. Her skin was unnaturally pale with the ugly bruise deepening. He still couldn't believe there were no broken bones—or worse. He'd waited, utterly distraught, while they'd done their tests. A bad bump to the head, that was all, despite being knocked to the ground, clipped by the edge of the car. It was only the driver's quick action in pulling on the wheel that had saved her from more serious injuries.

The doctors would monitor her for the night, but they didn't think there was anything they'd missed. But even now, despite their words, he feared there was damage beyond what he could see.

‘Why don't you call Victoria and Ted, darling?' Sophy's father spoke. ‘Go into the lounge area. I'll come and get you if there's any change.'

Lorenzo knew they were communicating behind his back. He didn't care. He wasn't leaving the damn room.

As soon as the door closed behind her he lifted his gaze and met the judge's. He had the same blue eyes as Sophy's—only his were colder. ‘Things have changed for you since we last met, Lorenzo.'

‘A lot.'

‘I'm glad.' He looked serious. ‘Does Sophy know?'

‘Yes.' Lorenzo swallowed.

‘And she's your…friend?'

He knew what he was asking. ‘Yes.'

The judge's face tightened. ‘You had a lot of potential back then. But when I saw you, you were too angry to use it. Too angry to let anyone care for you. Anyone who tried had it thrown back at them.' His voice changed, to the implacable, imperative word of law. ‘Don't you do that to my daughter.'

Lorenzo didn't answer, just looked at the small fingers resting limply in his. He couldn't bring himself to admit that he'd already done exactly that.

 

Sophy's head really hurt. She blinked. Tried again, squeezing her eyes open just that little bit. ‘Lorenzo?'

No answer. But he was here. She was sure of it. She could smell him. She could feel the warmth from the pressure of his hand—he'd been holding it, hadn't he? ‘Lorenzo?'

‘He's not here,' a deep voice answered. ‘I told him to go.'

‘What?' she wailed. ‘Dad!'

A warm hand touched hers, but it wasn't the right hand.

‘Sophy?' Her mother bent over her. ‘Honey, are you okay?'

Had she just sobbed? Just a little bit?

‘He'll be back. He'll come back, I'm sure. We just told him to go get some coffee. He hadn't moved for almost two hours.'

Okay, so she had sobbed. She closed her eyes again. Felt the wet on her cheek and turned her head away, pressing deeper into the pillow. He wouldn't be back. He didn't want to be near her family—or any family. ‘Sophy?'

‘Should we get the doctor?' Her mother's voice rose.

‘No,' Sophy croaked. ‘No. I'm okay.' And with every word she spoke her voice grew stronger. ‘What happened?'

‘You were hit by a car. You ran straight out onto the road.'

‘Were you running away from something, Sophy? Someone?' her father asked quietly, but she heard the tone, the condemnation, the conclusion.

She shook her head, wincing as it hurt. ‘Not what you think, Dad.'

‘I don't know what to think, sweet heart.'

Carefully she opened her eyes, looked at her father. ‘Do you remember him?'

‘I remember all of them,' her father said sombrely. ‘But some stick in your mind more than others.'

The tears welled again, stinging her eyeballs.

‘He was very angry back then. But he had a lot to be angry about.'

Sophy's heart was breaking. She needed her father to know, to under stand. ‘I love him, Dad.'

The sharp intake of breath was audible—but it didn't come from either of her parents. Sophy turned her head. Lorenzo stood in the doorway.

‘You're awake. Are you okay?' The edge of panic was evident both in the speed of the question and the hesitancy as he hovered.

She licked her horribly dry lips.

‘Edward, let's go get some fresh coffee.' Her mother suddenly stood. ‘Come on. She can't have too many people in here at once. She'll get too tired.'

Sophy watched the two men looking at each other—saw some message she couldn't interpret pass between them.

Lorenzo moved closer, where she could see him better. He was so pale.

‘Sophy.' His voice broke. ‘I'm so sorry.'

‘It was my fault. I should have been watching where I was going.'

He shook his head. ‘I shouldn't have made you so upset. I never wanted to hurt you like this.'

The brush-off. Again. It was so embarrassing. Dully she admitted the truth. ‘I shouldn't have pushed for something you never wanted to give.'

‘You're right,' he said. ‘But not about that. I'm scared—just like you said. A coward. You scare me to death—how you make me feel scares me.' He moved quickly, sat in the seat near her head. ‘I don't know that I can give you what you want from me.'

‘Lorenzo.' She took in a deep breath. She'd take all there was—no matter how little. She loved him. She wanted him. She was happy when with him. She didn't need all the bells and whistles. She just needed him. ‘All I want is whatever you have to give.'

He stared at her. The dark eyes tortured, the unhappiness hurting her more than the relentless pounding in her head and in her heart. ‘But you deserve so much more than that. So much more than me.'

‘No.' Her eyes filled. She didn't want him to push her away like that. No one else could give her what he could. ‘I want you. That's all. Just you.'

‘And I want you. But I don't want to make you unhappy. And I have.'

She opened her mouth but he kept talking.

‘It's all new to me. You know that—the whole big family thing. But I'll try, if you want me to.'

She trembled and his hand quickly covered hers.

‘What made you change your mind?'

‘Nearly losing you today.' His voice wavered again.

‘I got a bump on the head. I'm not about to die—'

‘If you had seen yourself you wouldn't say that.'

‘Lorenzo, I'm fine.'

‘Well, I'm not. I don't think I'll ever recover from seeing you crumple like that.' He closed his eyes and bowed his head, both his hands firmly clasped around hers. ‘Can you be patient with me?'

‘Yes.' She had him. Nothing else mattered. She didn't need the grand gestures, the romantic flourishes. She just needed him.

He leaned across, kissed her tenderly on the lips. Not enough for her.

‘You're staying in here tonight.'

‘No.' She frowned. ‘I'm not.'

‘You are. Observation. You probably have concussion. You need to be monitored.'

‘I can be monitored at home. Rosanna will—'

‘Rosanna is away,' Lorenzo said sharply. ‘I'll wait with you today. Come back to pick you up in the morning. Unless—' he breathed out ‘—you'd rather your parents did?'

‘I want you to.'

His hand cupped her face so gently. ‘I don't deserve you.'

‘You do,' she said, angry tears springing again. ‘You
do
.'

She would make him under stand that—somehow. She loved him. But she couldn't say it again—wouldn't—because she didn't want him to feel the pressure to say it in return. She didn't know that he'd ever be able to say it. It didn't matter. Her tortured warrior spoke with actions. And he was here. That was enough.

 

Twenty-four hours later Lorenzo finally went to do some work for a bit—having instructed her to phone down if
she needed anything. He paused halfway down the stairs. Rosanna was on her way up, a sheaf of flowers across one arm.

She waggled her finger at him. ‘You don't take my best friend home to your place and think you're not getting me too.'

He laughed. ‘She'll be pleased to see you. She's bored and getting restless.'

‘I've got some magazines.'

His grin faded as she got closer. ‘You're wearing her necklace.' His throat went tight as he saw it.

She touched it. ‘Stunning, isn't it? I bought it at the exhibition the other night. Made sure I did it as soon as I got there. I wanted her to have one “sold” sign really early on.' She grinned. ‘Not that I needed to worry—she sold most of them in the first hour. But she was so nervous.'

He nodded. ‘I know.' He should have thought to do that. That should have been him. But he'd been thinking too selfishly. ‘You're a good friend to her.'

‘Only because she's wonderful to me. It's nice to be able to do something for her for once,' Rosanna said. ‘She does so much for everyone else.'

‘Yeah.' She did. She bent over back wards for the ones she loved. She was bending every which way for him. And he wasn't happy about it. She deserved so much more. The feeling inside his chest tightened.

She was going to take him—like this—with nothing extra. She was too generous. And he wasn't going to let her get away with it. Not any more. No matter the cost to him, she was too important. Her happiness was too important.

He could do it, sure he could—because she deserved it. ‘I've got a few other things I need to do for her.' He swallowed and bit the bullet. ‘Are you up to helping me?'

Rosanna looked sharply curious. ‘What kind of things?'

‘Top secret things.'

‘Spend money kind of top-secret things?'

‘Lots of money,' he acknowledged.

‘Then you've got an able assistant.'

He'd grin if he weren't feeling so freaked. ‘Fantastic.'

S
OPHY
let Lorenzo guide her to her seat. Honestly, she was over the cotton wool treatment. Four days since her accident and he was still handling her as if he was afraid she'd break any moment.

‘You're into taking this risk a second time?'

‘The first wasn't such a risk,' she teased back. ‘It's not like you've asked me for my passport.'

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out two small blue books.

‘No way.' Sophy stared at them. ‘You got my passport? How did you do that?'

He didn't answer. Just grinned at her in a lazy way.

‘That was at my parents' house.' She frowned. ‘At least, I think it was. You didn't break in there, did you?'

‘I never did breaking and entering. Not my strength.'

‘Don't be ridiculous. You're capable of anything you set your mind to,' she muttered. ‘It's scary.'

‘Are you scared?'

She met his serious gaze. ‘No.' She did up her seat belt. ‘Actually I'm hoping you're going to make me a member of the mile high club.'

He laughed but she wasn't kidding. He'd kissed her since the accident, but they hadn't had sex. And she needed it—badly wanted to connect with him. There was a distance
between them. She sensed his tension, as if he was keeping something back from her.

‘Are we going back to Hanmer?'

He just smiled.

She was sure of it when they got into the rental car in Christchurch and he took the road north again. Fine by her—she couldn't think of anything nicer than making love with him in that wonderful warm water again.

But he turned off on a side road well before he should. Then took another, a gravel road this time. The building appeared out of nowhere. One of those churches that had been built a century ago and now was stuck in the middle of a field with nothing else around—no other buildings, no cars, nothing.

‘Sophy.'

He switched off the engine. He was so pale she was seriously worried.

‘Lorenzo?'

He turned to face her. ‘Will you marry me?' It was only once he'd asked it that he looked directly into her eyes.

She blinked, stunned at the question that had come so suddenly out of the blue. ‘Yes. Of course I will.' Her heart thudded hard enough to burst from her chest.

But he didn't smile. Didn't look even a smidge more relaxed. He just jerked his head in a sharp negating gesture. ‘But will you marry me right now?'

She stared from him, to the church in front of them.
‘Now?'

‘Right now.' He sat still as marble.

‘Of course I will.' She answered in a heart beat.

‘You're sure? You're absolutely sure?' He was the colour of marble too.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘But are you?'

He smiled then. It was as if the full power of the sun
had burst through the storm clouds—scattering them to the furthest edge of the universe. He got out of the car, strode round to her door and opened it.

She stepped out carefully, looking cautiously at him as he took her hand and led her to the closed doors of the old church.

‘We can't really get married now can we?' She climbed the stairs doubtfully. She didn't think there was a minister in there—there wasn't a car in the yard, there didn't seem to be another soul around for miles.

Unless he meant to do some little personal made-up thing for just the two of them? Well, that would be fine by her. She wanted to be with him. She was happy.

He pulled the heavy door open and was a half-step behind her as she went in. She blinked in the dim light, suddenly saw the movement. The turning of heads. The smiles.

The church was full of people.
Full.

She looked at Lorenzo—saw the colour had leeched from his skin again. A tall streak came flying up the aisle to her.

‘Rosanna, what are you doing here?' Sophy asked, utterly shocked.

‘I'm your bridesmaid, silly.'

‘You're serious.' Sophy stared. ‘You're not serious.'

‘I'm dead serious,' said Rosanna.

‘So did you mean it?' Lorenzo asked quietly. ‘You'll marry me right now?'

‘No, I need at least ten minutes with her first.' Rosanna again.

Sophy ignored Rosanna. Took a step closer to him, reached up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.

‘Five minutes, okay?' He whispered, cupping her jaw. ‘Don't be late.'

She saw the anxiety hidden not so deep in his eyes. ‘I won't be.'

Rosanna dragged her by the hand out of the church and around the back to the vestry entrance. ‘Didn't you hear the man? Five minutes is all we have.'

‘You're not wearing black.' Sophy stared at her stupidly.

‘It's a wedding, not a funeral.'

Sophy clapped her hand over her mouth to stop the crazed giggle bursting out.

‘Ta da.' Rosanna held up the hanger.

Sophy's jaw dropped and she took a few steps closer. ‘Where did you find it?'

Rosanna shrugged. ‘Darling, I'm a buyer. I shop for a living—you know this.'

‘But, Ro—'

‘I know, even for me it's outstanding. Now strip.'

Rosanna held the dress for Sophy to step into. Fixing the zip for her and smoothing the skirt, holding the new shoes that were the exact shade to match.

‘It all fits.'

‘Of course. I am a professional.'

‘Oh, Ro—'

‘No getting emotional. Not yet,' Rosanna said tartly. ‘Now, we can do a better job of hiding this bruise.' Despite her astringent tone, Rosanna swept the brush gently through Sophy's hair, quickly but carefully put in some clips. ‘A rub of lipstick. You don't need any other make-up—you're glowing as it is.'

Sophy needed a distraction—otherwise she was going to hyperventilate, or get hysterical, or run into the church right now, half-ready, just to make sure it really was happening. She looked at her friend's demure French navy frock. ‘Is Vance here?'

‘Yes.'

Sophy glanced—that was an arctic-sounding answer. ‘Are you not getting on?'

‘We've never got on. We just got
it
on a few times.'

Yeah, but Sophy had suspected, just for a fleeting second, that maybe Rosanna had finally met her match. ‘So what happened?'

‘He told me I had to give up the others. It was him and no one else. An ultimatum, no less.'

‘How unreasonable of him,' Sophy remarked dryly. ‘What did you say?'

‘I said no, of course.'

‘Oh, Rosanna—'

‘Be quiet or I'll spread lipstick all over your cheeks.' Rosanna looked down. ‘You know me, Soph. I'm thrilled for you, I am. But you know the whole monogamous happy-ever-after thing isn't for me. The only time I'll ever walk down an aisle is right now, as your witness.'

‘I know.' Sophy put her hand on her friend. ‘And you know how much I love you for doing it for me.'

Rosanna shrugged, reverting back to snappy. ‘It was fun spending Lorenzo's money.' She stood back and assessed her handiwork. ‘Okay, you've got something old—the dress. Something new—the shoes. Now for something borrowed and something blue.' She looked sly, undid the clasp on the necklace she wore round her neck.

‘Rosanna.' Sophy's heart melted even more.

‘You have to wear it. He loves it on you.'

The necklace she'd made. ‘I'm giving it back to you after.'

‘Of course, it's borrowed.' Rosanna smiled. ‘You look like you've put that stuff in your eyes. They're all big and sparkly.'

‘Deadly night shade?'

‘Dad!' Sophy whirled around.

‘You look beautiful.' He walked towards her, looking super-establishment in his grey suit. But he was smiling that wonderful, proud smile. ‘Would you like me to walk up the aisle with you, Sophy?'

‘Oh, Dad.' She took the two paces and he folded her into his arms. ‘Just the one way.'

He laughed. ‘Yes, you have the exit covered already.'

‘How did this happen?' She couldn't believe it.

‘Lorenzo's spent the last three days organising it.'

‘But is it legal?'

‘I'm a judge, honey. Of course it is.'

‘But how?'

‘He's a good man. And he knows how to get things done.'

Sophy nodded. ‘He's very strong. He's wonderful to me.'

‘I can see that. It's obvious how much he cares for you. A person who loves you like that, we'll always welcome.'

Sophy bit her lip. Did Lorenzo love her? In his own way she knew he must—he'd never be doing this otherwise. And maybe one day he'd even be able to tell her.

Her mother came to the door. ‘Hurry up, the poor boy is out there looking paler than a ghost.'

The poor boy? Sophy choked back the laughing sob and gave her mother a hug.

‘No tears, you two,' her father said gruffly. ‘You'll both ruin your make-up.'

 

‘Hold it together, Renz. She won't be a minute.'

‘I won't be happy until it's done.' Until she was his. He breathed out a long breath—trying to control the racing pulse, the nerves slowly killing him. ‘Thanks for being here.'

‘I wouldn't have missed this for the world. Dani is beside herself with excitement. You should have heard her on the flight—“I can't believe it, I can't believe it” over and over.'

‘I'm sure you figured out a way to shut her up.' Lorenzo flicked a quick glance to where his friend's wife sat sandwiched between Kat and Cara, who had her new baby cuddled to her breast. They were out of the neo-natal unit and thriving. Her husband looked like a doting fool. Lorenzo went even more tense—could barely dare hope that he'd be like that one day. His attention swerved straight back to the door at the back of the church. Where was she? Had this all been a huge mistake? Was she working out a way of backing out of it without embarrassing him?

‘Relax.'

Easy for Alex to say. But Sophy was his one hope of salvation. The link to the vulnerable humanity he knew he'd hidden away a long time ago. But with her he had the courage—and the desire—to open up and be everything. To do everything. To embrace all that life had to offer.

He cleared his throat. Okay, so maybe the courage bit was fading. He needed to see her. Had he done the right thing? Her whole family was here. All thirty thousand of them. There was music all of a sudden and an expectant hush descended. The whole congregation stood for her.

Lorenzo couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. Decades ago probably, as a kid getting a hiding. But the lump in his throat now was like a burning ball of metal—only instead of melting it was getting harder and harder and bigger.

He staved off the tears by sheer will—based in the raw desire to see her clearly at this moment. No stupid salty water blurring the vision of her walking to meet him. Man, she was beautiful. The dress was white and slim fitting and
frothed to the floor. Her blue eyes, almost painfully bright, looked nowhere but right into him.

She smiled. And his heart burst open.

He followed the minister's instructions—repeated the words, listened to her cool, clear voice say them back to him.

So he could kiss her now. But there was something he needed to do first—here and now and in front of a hundred witnesses.

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath as he turned to face her, gazing right into her beautiful blue eyes.

And finally he said it—the thing he'd never said to anyone before. Had never dreamed he'd ever be capable of saying, let alone actually feeling.

‘I love you.' Suddenly he was freed from the terrible tension he'd felt for ever. ‘I love you.' He said it again with a smile—louder that time as he recognised it as the beginning of a whole new meaning to his life.

She crumpled and he caught her to him, tasting her tears as he kissed her.

He did. He really did love her—the power of it was beyond anyone's control. Certainly his. But that was okay. That was better than okay.

Sophy heard him whispering it again as he held her in a bear hug so tight she couldn't breathe. But she wasn't letting him get away with just one kiss. Not after that. She put her palms on his face, blinking through the tears, feeling her soul sing as she touched her lips to his. She was tight in his arms again, literally swept off her feet as they kissed.

There was cheering and clapping and, for her, utter reluctance as they drew apart. Sophy turned, faced the sea of smiles and sparkling outfits for only a second. Then she turned back to him and was centred again. He was her
anchor. And she his. Together they'd form a foundation from which they could do anything.

He kissed her again, the way she needed to be kissed—with love and heat and fierce intensity.

‘I love you, Lorenzo.'

He smiled, that rare, shining, carefree smile that she hoped would now be much more common.

She'd known there were people. As she'd walked up the aisle she'd seen them in her peripheral vision. But all her attention had been on the man waiting for her at the altar. Stock-still, pale, looking at her as if she were an illusion—as if fearful she'd disappear in a wisp of smoke if he so much as blinked.

Now, as they walked back down the aisle together, her arm tightly clamped to his side, she saw them all properly—her parents, her brother and sister, aunts, a few cousins, Rosanna's boys, several other friends. And she recognised the Wilsons, Vance, Kat, Cara, some others who she guessed were vineyard workers. All were here to celebrate with them.

From some where—who knew where?—a couple of large buses had appeared out the front of the church. They all climbed aboard and were taken to the reception in a marquee in the middle of the Wilsons' vineyard. They dined and danced and laughed. It seemed Lorenzo really had impressed her father. The two of them bonded over fine wine and possible investments. Her mother was just floored by him. Sophy under stood that all too well. Sophy gazed round at the gleaming silverware, the white and silver decorations making the room sparkle.