The Proud Italian

by Alison Roberts

  ‘Tell me about it. A quiet affair might have been easily organised but the kind of splash that goes with a high-society wedding at Claridge’s? I’m trying to stay well out of it all.’

  Abbie smiled. ‘Good luck with that.’

  Ethan snorted. ‘Yeah… I haven’t been entirely successful. Lizzie’s managed to talk me into being best man. And that means I’ll have to come up with some kind of speech.’

  ‘I’m sure you can do it. Even with a tight deadline. But why are they in such a rush?’

  Ethan shrugged. ‘Guess they didn’t want to wait. They’re in love.’

  There was something in Ethan’s tone that made the conversation dry up completely at this point. Abbie didn’t know the story behind why the Hunter brothers had been estranged for so many years but, like everyone else associated with the clinic, she was aware of the tension that still lingered between the men. The fact that Lizzie had been the one to persuade Ethan to be best man was evidence that things still weren’t easy.

  Was that all there was to whatever was remaining unspoken? Was Ethan happy for Leo or did he have doubts that the marriage would succeed? Maybe she and Rafael were being seen as an example of marrying in haste and repenting at leisure.

  The lump in Abbie’s throat made it too hard to take a new breath. To try and distract herself she leaned over Ella and stroked her baby’s cheek softly with her forefinger.

  The welling up of love she had for her child wasn’t enough to distract her completely. She and Rafael had been in love like that once. Not very long ago, in fact. They should still be in the honeymoon phase of their marriage but look at where they were now.

  What should have been a perfect union so quickly blessed with a beautiful child had been blown apart by a cruel twist of fate.

  And now Abbie was returning to where it had all happened.

  The pieces of that perfect life were going to be in the same place again.

  What remained to be seen was whether it was going to be possible to put them back together again.

  A glance through the tinted glass of the ambulance windows showed that they were passing Regent’s Park. There were taxis and double-decker buses nose to tail around them. Definitely London. Home. God, it was good to be back. She could even see the big square brick building on the end of Harley Street coming up—a close neighbour of the Hunter Clinic.

  Ethan followed her line of vision.

  ‘Have you missed it?’

  ‘So much.’ But it felt distant. Like part of previous life. How hard was it going to be to find her way back?

  ‘Are you ready to come back to work? We desperately need you as soon as you can manage and I know that they’ve been holding their breath to get you back on board at the Lighthouse.’

  ‘I could start tomorrow.’

  ‘Really? That would be terrific. But won’t you need time to get Ella settled?’

  Abbie’s smile was poignant. ‘The oncology ward at the Lighthouse is more of a home for Ella than anywhere else. She’s spent most of her life in there. And the staff are like a huge collection of aunties and grannies. The sooner we get things back to normal, the better for both of us, I think.’

  For all of us, she amended silently.

  Rafael de Luca stripped off his bloodied gloves and dropped them in the bin. Then he pulled at his mask, breaking the strings and bending the wire that strengthened the top hem as he sent it after the gloves.

  Finally, he could take a deep breath of unfiltered, fresh-feeling air. Not just because the mask was gone but because the gruelling surgery that had kept him on his feet for so many hours he’d lost count was over.

  They’d done well. The team he’d gathered around him to perform this complex operation had been outstanding. In an ideal world they were maybe not exactly who he would have chosen to work so closely with but the choice of his perfect partner had been taken away when Abbie had gone, hadn’t it?

  The ‘dream team,’ they’d been known as at the Hunter Clinic. Such perfect partners in the operating theatre, it had seemed inevitable that they would find they were a perfect match outside work hours as well.

  Ha…

  So much for fate. And so much for a distraction from his modus operandi these days. That momentary flash of recognising what had been missing from his theatre today was as far as he would allow it to go. And that had only happened because he was so incredibly exhausted. His back ached abominably from standing in one position for far too long. His eyes ached from peering through microscopic lenses for the fine work and a generalised ache in his head from such prolonged and fierce concentration was gaining vigour.

  With his gown removed and balled up to join the other disposable items in the bin, Rafael could push open the double doors and exit Theatre. With some time in hand before checking on young Anoosheh in Recovery and no concerned family to go and talk to, he could do what he most wanted and go and stand under a hot shower for a considerable period of time. He needed a shave, too.

  There would be reporters anxious to hear how the surgery had gone but nobody would expect him to front up to a camera until he’d had time to clean up properly. And maybe he wouldn’t have to do it at all. Rafael could see Ethan Hunter waiting outside Theatre. Far better that the media dealt with the man who was not only one of the owners of the Hunter Clinic but in charge of the charity side of the business and directly responsible for Anoosheh being brought to London for her life-changing surgery.

  ‘Rafael… How did it go?’

  ‘Good.’ He nodded his greeting. ‘As good as we could have hoped for. The tumour is gone. She has a titanium plate in her jaw and we’ve reconstructed her nasal passages. There’s more work to be done, of course. When she’s recovered from this.’ The finer work of removing excess scar tissue and repositioning facial features. The kind of work Abbie excelled at.

  Letting his breath out in a weary sigh, Rafael rubbed at his forehead and pinched his temples with a thumb and third finger as he screwed his eyes shut. Dio, but he was tired.

  ‘And the eye?’

  Rafael opened his. ‘They think it may still be viable. Time will tell if she can see out of it now that the obstruction is cleared.’

  ‘Good. That gives me enough to update the media.’

  ‘Grazie.’ Rafael found a smile. ‘I appreciate you doing that. I’m going to hit the shower and then head home.’ He found himself staring at Ethan’s odd expression. ‘What? You want me to face the cameras after all?’

  ‘No, it’s not that. It’s…’

  ‘What?’ Rafael’s smile was fading.

  ‘Abbie,’ Ethan said quietly.

  Rafael’s heart skipped a beat and then thudded painfully. Something had happened. To Ella? Oh, no…not that. Si prega di dio, not that…

  ‘She’s here, Rafael,’ Ethan said into the stillness. ‘They’re both here. Ella’s been transferred to the paediatric oncology ward here to finish her recuperation.’

  Rafael could only keep staring. Why hadn’t he known about this? Why hadn’t Abbie contacted him? Because she couldn’t even bring herself to talk to him any more? Was that how things were going to be now?

  ‘It was a last-minute decision, apparently.’ Ethan wasn’t meeting his gaze any longer. ‘The call came in after you’d started the surgery on Anoosheh. I decided it was better if you weren’t distracted so I took it on myself to go and meet them at the airport. I’m sorry you didn’t get the message when it was intended.’

  Rafael made a noncommittal sound. This wasn’t Ethan’s fault. Surely the decision to transfer Ella would have been made days ago. Abbie could have let him know. Or maybe she had… He’d been so focussed on this major surgery that he hadn’t checked his personal email in a day or two. He hadn’t even checked in with his message service since yesterday.

  And what did any of that matter anyway?

  They were here.

  Just a floor or two and a few long corridors away.

  The two people who meant more to him
than anyone else on this earth were in the building so what the hell was he doing, standing here?

  ‘I have to go,’ he snapped. ‘I have to see them.’

  The relief that a long, hot shower could provide was forgotten. Unnecessary. A new surge of energy coursed through Rafael as he took the stairs rather than wait for a lift. Made him pick up his pace until he was almost running through the corridors in his theatre scrubs and plastic boots, earning startled glances from people who clearly thought he was on the way to an emergency.

  It wasn’t until he was close to the open doors leading to the paediatric oncology ward that his pace faltered. Seeing Abbie standing in the corridor outside one of the private rooms felt like he’d just run into an invisible wall.

  Twelve weeks since he’d seen her.

  The woman he’d married. The love of his life. The mother of his child.

  But the last time he’d seen her had been when she’d walked away from him, taking their child with her. When she’d refused to bend to his ultimatum and had chosen to go against his wishes, even if it meant the end of their marriage.

  When his marriage had ended.

  He’d been wrong to issue that ultimatum. Wrong to deny Ella the chance that the treatment had offered. He knew that and the knowledge was a knife that had twisted inside him for weeks now. Ever since the possibility of success had become apparent.

  He also knew that Abbie had been through hell on the other side of the Atlantic and he hadn’t been there to support her. He’d made her do it alone because he couldn’t back down enough to find a way to apologise. Not through an email or text anyway, which had become the only way Abbie had wanted to communicate.

  She must hate him for making her go through all that alone.

  She hadn’t seen him yet. She was looking through the window of the room. Watching to make sure Ella was asleep, perhaps, so that she could go and take enough of a break to have a meal?

  She’d lost weight.

  The shapely curves of her body that had first caught his eye when they’d started working together at the Lighthouse had all but disappeared. Her jeans looked too big for her legs and even from this distance he could see how prominent her collarbones were above the scooped neck of her sweater. Even the thick tresses of her glorious, honey-blond hair looked as if they’d lost volume by the way they were lying in a subdued and limp ponytail against the top of her spine.

  A spine that looked a little less straight than he remembered in the strong, independent woman he’d fallen in love with and married.

  How hard had this all been?

  Rafael could feel his heart breaking. His every instinct was to rush forward and gather Abbie into his arms. To hold her against his heart and whisper promises. That everything would be all right. That he would always love her. That he would never allow life to be so hard for her again.

  But how could he? The distance between them couldn’t be resolved simply by him walking close enough to put his arms around her, and what if she pushed him away? His pride was already in tatters. Had been ever since she’d walked out on him. And, besides, there was only one of those promises that he could make with any certainty.

  That he would always love her.

  Would that be enough?

  Maybe he was about to find out.

  He never felt this nervous pushing open the doors to enter Theatre, even when he knew that the challenge was going to be huge.

  His mouth never felt this dry.

  It was hard to make his voice work. So hard that only a single word came out.

  ‘Abbie…’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘ABBIE…’

  She knew it was Rafael well before she turned to face him. It had always been unique, the way he said her name. It wasn’t just the Italian accent or the smooth, deep voice. It was the subtle note of…wonder, almost. Or reverence? As if she was the most wonderful woman on earth and that made her name special, too.

  Unique. One of a kind. Like Rafe.

  Abbie braced herself, as she turned, for the first sight of her husband in what suddenly seemed a vast amount of time.

  Three months.

  But, at this moment, it felt like three years.

  What would she see in his face? The joy of knowing she’d brought his daughter back to him? Anger that had burned away to leave a residue of resentment?

  Echoes of the unbearable pain she’d seen before she’d turned her back and defiantly taken Ella away from him?

  When she had turned and found herself facing Rafael with only a few feet between them, Abbie had to brace herself all over again.

  How could she have forgotten the effect this man had on her? It was so much more than purely physical. More than emotional, even. It was a visceral thing. She was facing the part of her own being that had been torn free.

  It stole her breath away. Made her heart stammer and trip.

  ‘Rafe…’

  Abbie tried to smile but it wasn’t going to happen. Her lips simply wouldn’t co-operate. She could only stare, drinking in this first glimpse, anxiously scanning his body and face to try and collect her impressions.

  Dear Lord, but he looked so tired. As though he hadn’t slept well for weeks. As though he hadn’t even shaved for more than a day or two. He hadn’t had a haircut for a while either, and… Had he just come straight from his stint in Theatre? Black curls were flattened in places and still looked damp with sweat. Were his scrubs a size larger than he usually wore or had he lost weight?

  Yes. He looked exhausted. And wary but not angry.

  He looked…

  Wonderful.

  Tall and commanding and every bit as gorgeous as the first time she had laid eyes on him. Despite everything, Abbie could feel a curl of sensation deep in her abdomen as her body responded to being this close to him, but this overwhelming awareness wasn’t anything as simple as physical attraction.

  They knew each other so well. On so many levels. They made up two halves of a whole.

  They loved each other.

  At least, they had.

  If only Rafael would smile. Or step closer. Hold his arms open so that she could fall into an embrace that would magically erase the pain they’d caused each other and make everything all right again.

  But he wasn’t moving. He seemed to be staring back at her with a mirror image of her intense scrutiny of him.

  ‘How are you, Abbie?’

  ‘I’m…’ The word ‘fine’ tried to form on her lips but it wasn’t true. Abbie didn’t feel fine at all. She felt overwhelmed and unsure. ‘I’m…okay. A bit tired. It’s been a big day.’

  A big twelve weeks.

  A traumatic journey that she’d had to take alone. Abbie swallowed hard as she felt the hurt coalesce into the shape of the painful rock inside her chest that she’d lived with for so long now. ‘And you? How are you, Rafe?’

  ‘I’m…also okay… I think.’ The familiar gesture as Rafael raked his hair with his fingers made the rock shift a little and sent a painful shaft through Abbie’s heart. He was as overwhelmed as she was with this reunion. Unsure of what to say. Or do. ‘I…wasn’t expecting this. It’s…’

  ‘Sudden, I know.’ This was weird. To feel the hurt this man had caused her and yet to feel so much compassion for him at the same time. ‘I would have let you know sooner but it…just happened.’

  He didn’t believe her and Abbie could understand that. The possibility of sending Ella back to her home town to continue her recuperation had only been talked about in the last few days. She was still fragile. How much organisation had been needed to send a sick baby to another country?

  ‘They only started to make enquiries first thing this morning. And things just fell into place. There was space available on a flight and a bed here at the Lighthouse and they didn’t have to arrange a medical escort. And…when her results came through later, looking so good, Dr Goldstein just looked at me and smiled and he said…he said, “How ‘bout it, Mom? Would you like to go home t
oday?” And…’

  And Abbie’s voice was shaking now. Could she tell him that the first thing she’d thought at that point had been how badly she’d wanted to see him again? That the picture in her head of Rafael holding his baby daughter again and seeing how much better she looked had filled her heart with so much longing that it had felt like it might burst?

  No. She couldn’t tell him because he had started speaking himself. She had to stop saying anything. Rafael had to repeat his question.

  ‘What results? What were the tests?’

  Did it matter? This was a doctor talking, not a father. Was he still that distant? This was what had caused their separation in the first place, wasn’t it? The way he could remove himself from the emotional involvement of being a parent. To step back and see the bigger picture through a professional lens. To decide that the quality of what would be a very short life was more important than the desperation to keep your own child alive as long as humanly possible.

  ‘They took a bone-marrow biopsy yesterday. And bloods. We already knew she’d got through the dangerous cytokine release syndrome that the treatment caused. What we didn’t know was whether the T cell therapy was really working.’

  ‘And…’ It looked as though Rafael was having to swallow a large lump in his throat, judging by the way the muscles in his jaw and neck were working. ‘It’s looking good?’

  That was more like it. The doctor would want the exact figures. A copy of the test results, like the one Abbie had ready for him in her bag. But for a father? Knowing that the results were good would be enough to create such a wash of relief and hope for the future that the numbers were irrelevant.

  Abbie nodded. It took a moment to trust her voice. ‘She still needs protection for her immune system and she’ll need another bone-marrow biopsy at the three-month mark but…’ She took a deep breath as she blinked back tears. ‘It’s looking good, Rafe. As good as I hoped it would. The treatment’s worked.’

  As good as she’d hoped?

  The choice of pronoun pushed him away. Just as Rafael had been about to pull Abbie into his arms so that they could celebrate this miraculous milestone together as Ella’s parents.