The Proud Italian

by Alison Roberts

  The deadpan manner in which this information was delivered made it sound quite plausible. But this was Edward North who was speaking, a microsurgeon who was known for being slightly eccentric and a bit of a loner. He was awkward enough in social settings for it to be quite surprising to see him attend an event like this at all.

  ‘Yeah, yeah…’ Rafael’s tone was mocking but he smiled to take any sting from the tone.

  As if sensing a sudden tension in the air, Gwen moved away to talk to someone else and he could feel Abbie’s fingers stiff and still in his hand now.

  Rafael wasn’t sure who released the contact first. Maybe it just didn’t feel right to be standing here holding hands while they were talking to Edward. Because he’d been the cause of the trouble their marriage was in now?

  Or perhaps Abbie had heard that his relationship with this particular colleague had not been the best recently. He had been angry with Edward and they’d barely spoken in the last few months, but he’d been justified, hadn’t he?

  Nobody could deny that Edward was a genius. Thanks to the endless nights he spent on his own reading and researching, he’d been the one to find the information on the experimental treatment that he thought Ella might be a candidate for.

  He just wished that Edward had had some idea of the chaos his suggestion would have on his marriage. Had he even been aware of his misery in the last few months? Probably not. He wasn’t a father himself. As far as Rafael was aware, he wasn’t in a long-term relationship either.

  Maybe, in his own way, the backhanded compliment disguised as the faux breaking news was his way of apologising. Edward was certainly aware of some undercurrents because he cleared his throat and ran a finger under his collar, as if it was uncomfortable, as he turned towards Abbie.

  ‘How’s Ella?’ he enquired. ‘I heard that she’s back in the Lighthouse but… I haven’t heard any details about the treatment.’

  ‘It seems to have worked,’ Abbie said quietly. ‘For a while there, it didn’t look like it would but—’

  ‘Something went wrong?’ Edward was frowning. ‘Not graft versus host disease?’ He shook his head. ‘No, that wouldn’t happen. It’s the patient’s own T cells that are being reengineered, isn’t it? So that they’ll recognise and attach to the CD19 protein that’s on the surface of B cells.’

  ‘There’s another protein,’ Abbie told him. ‘I’ll have to look up what it is for you but it’s the same one that’s involved with rheumatoid arthritis. Anyway, the levels got very elevated because of the new T cells and Ella became critically ill. She was in the intensive-care unit for weeks.’

  Edward looked like he was making a mental note to investigate the unnamed protein himself. ‘What did they use to treat her?’

  ‘The same drugs they use for rheumatoid. With quite dramatic results. Her fever and temperature dropped rapidly and she was taken off the ventilator much sooner than any of us had hoped for.’

  The atmosphere became even more strained. Edward looked vaguely appalled, as if how dangerous the treatment had been hadn’t occurred to him when he’d suggested it.

  ‘It did work in the end,’ Abbie said. ‘We wouldn’t have even known about it if it hadn’t been for you. And we couldn’t be more grateful.’

  We.

  They were both looking at him now. It was Rafael’s turn to clear his throat. He tilted his head in acknowledgement of his own gratitude. Of course he was grateful for Ella’s state of health but he still had the damage to his marriage undermining his happiness. Was it any wonder it was hard to make amends with Edward?

  ‘Thank you,’ he said aloud, finally. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t said so before.’

  The apology seemed to be accepted but a new silence fell now and everybody was clearly trying to think of a way to break it. It was Abbie who turned her head and seemed to be looking for someone.

  ‘They’re taking a long time, aren’t they?’

  ‘Who?’ Edward looked puzzled.

  ‘Leo and Lizzie. I know they went for photographs but that was ages ago. They should be back by now. Look at all the new arrivals. The breakfast must be due to start.’

  ‘Oh…didn’t you hear? There was a helicopter waiting for them. Leo whisked Lizzie off to go and visit her parents in Brighton.’

  ‘Good grief… Really?’

  Edward nodded and then shook his head, looking bemused. ‘I’d heard they were too sick to come to the wedding but it does seem a little over the top, doesn’t it?’

  Abbie’s smile was tight. ‘He loves her. And what a lovely thought, to let them see their daughter in her beautiful dress.’

  It seemed that Abbie was uncomfortable talking about the generous gesture. Defensive even. Did a man have to do something a little outrageous to prove how much he loved his bride?

  Had he not done enough?

  But the low-key service in the registry office hadn’t been intended to be the only acknowledgement of their marriage, had it? Rafael had had all sorts of plans for a second wedding and honeymoon in Italy that would have been far more meaningful than a showy helicopter ride. If only Ella hadn’t become sick so quickly…

  If only.

  Edward was looking around, clearly disinterested in discussing the bride’s dress. Someone nodded at him and he moved away, looking somewhat relieved. Mitchell Cooper, the American plastic surgeon, and Declan Underwood, another plastic surgeon, who seemed to be here without dates but enjoying themselves, came past Rafael and Abbie, heading for the bar, and Mitchell winked.

  ‘The game is to pick which of the guests has been a former client of the Hunter Clinic,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve spotted at least two.’

  ‘And I’ve spotted the guests of honour returning,’ Abbie said. ‘I’m going to see if I can find where our table is.’

  There was no chance of being alone with Abbie for quite some time, Rafael realised. Watching her disappear into the throng of guests, he had to wonder if she would even want that.

  That moment of connection with Abbie during the wedding ceremony that had led to them holding hands was well and truly gone now. The conversation with Edward had been a sobering reminder of how far they still had to go. He followed Mitchell towards the bar. His American colleague was probably searching for a Scotch instead of champagne and Rafael had a sudden desire for something a bit stronger himself.

  The group of men at the bar was drawing the attention of every woman in attendance, including those who’d come with partners. And no wonder. Abbie watched them as they raised what looked like glasses of Scotch to toast each other. The dress suits they were all wearing made most men look more attractive but these were already exceptionally good-looking guys.

  And Rafael was the best looking of the bunch, as far as she was concerned. His curly dark hair was a little too long, and his features a little sharper than some, but even from a distance she could feel the pull of his Italian passion, the warmth of the fire she knew ran in his blood.

  Perhaps she had been too harsh in her reaction to that ultimatum he’d delivered when he’d been so frustrated at not being listened to. Maybe if she understood more about his heritage and the way his male Italian brain worked, she could learn to sort the wheat from the chaff and they could work through their differences, instead of pushing each other away.

  Rafael was trying to understand how her brain worked. That had been obvious from his line of questioning during Annabelle’s surgery. What could she do to let him know that she was just as willing to make an effort?

  Ethan had joined the other men at the bar and he downed a shot of spirits as though it was some kind of medicine. There were certainly undercurrents here for people other than Rafael and herself.

  With a sigh, Abbie slipped into her allocated seat at one of the small tables. The chairs had been cleared from the chequerboard marble floor now and no doubt there would be dancing later. After the food and the speeches. Watching Ethan accept another drink from the bar staff, she had to hope that it wouldn’t affec
t his ability to give the speech he was expected to make as best man.

  There were choices to be made about the food as the courses came round, which Abbie found very difficult. Not because everything didn’t sound absolutely delicious but her appetite seemed to have deserted her. She had to make an effort, though.

  ‘I think I’ll have the roast Portland scallops with the fresh pea velouté,’ she decided. ‘Whatever a velouté is.’

  ‘I believe it’s a French word.’ Edward was sharing the table that had been allocated to the de Lucas. ‘It means velvet. It’s a sauce. Usually a white sauce, but I expect this one might be green.’

  Abbie’s lips twitched as she caught the twinkle in Edward’s otherwise deadpan expression. There was more to this man than people appreciated, wasn’t there?

  ‘I’m going to have the Cornish lobster with hand-cut chips,’ Rafael decided, when it came to the main course. ‘Or perhaps the Aberdeen Angus filet steak with beetroot.’

  Except he didn’t seem to have any more of an appetite than Abbie did. There was just as much left on his plate as hers when it came time to be cleared away.

  The dessert that Abbie chose was to die for. A chocolate fondant with a delectably oozy centre that came with a peach compote and a mascarpone sorbet. The speeches started before she’d taken more than a taste, however, and Abbie stopped and held her breath.

  What would Ethan say?

  He didn’t seem to be showing any effect from the shots of Scotch he’d been throwing back, but then, his speech was so short it was hard to tell. He said something very complimentary about Lizzie and he wished the couple every happiness and that was it. Except that he finished by thanking his brother, saying that he appreciated the way Leo had always looked out for him.

  As dessert plates were cleared away, Leo and Lizzie moved through the tables, stopping to talk to as many people as they could before they started the next part of the evening with their first dance. It was Leo who came to the table where Rafael and Abbie were now sitting alone. Edward had gone to talk to Declan.

  ‘Thanks for coming.’ Leo smiled. ‘I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful wedding,’ Abbie said. ‘Lizzie looks stunning.’

  ‘Great speeches, too.’ Rafael grinned. ‘Short. If we were in Italy they’d go on till midnight and nobody would get a chance to dance.’

  Abbie hoped the length of the best man’s speech hadn’t been due to the lingering tension between the brothers. ‘It was a nice thing that he said,’ she offered. ‘About you always looking out for him. You must have been an awesome big brother to have.’

  Leo’s smile looked wry. ‘Whether he wanted it or not,’ he murmured. ‘It wasn’t always appreciated.’

  Abbie raised her eyebrows but Leo didn’t get a chance to answer the silent query. A dramatically glamorous woman, dripping in diamonds, was sailing towards him as gracefully as only an aging prima ballerina could.

  ‘Leo…darling… You must come with me. Tony and I are dying to talk to you.’ With her arm firmly linked with his, Leo was hustled away.

  Abbie had to smile. There would be no prizes for picking her as one of the clinic clients who’d scored an invitation. Everybody knew about Francesca, who had to be in her early seventies now, and had had her first plastic surgeries with Leo and Ethan’s father, James.

  And that thought led her back to Leo’s cryptic comment. She turned to Rafael.

  ‘Whether he wanted it or not? And it wasn’t always appreciated? I wonder what that was about?’

  Rafael shrugged. ‘I’ve heard the father was a complete bastard. I suspect being the big brother made life pretty tough for Leo.’

  ‘He looks happy now.’

  ‘He just got married to a beautiful woman. Of course he’s happy.’

  ‘Where’s Ethan?’

  ‘I saw him heading for the restroom a while back.’

  ‘So did I.’ Abbie frowned. ‘Was it my imagination or was he limping more than usual?’

  Rafael mirrored her frown. ‘Maybe I should go and check that he’s all right.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  They slipped out of the crowd unnoticed because the music had started and Leo was leading Lizzie onto the dance floor.

  They found Ethan in a hallway near the restrooms. Leaning against the wall, with his eyes closed, he didn’t see them approach.

  ‘Are you okay?’ It was Abbie who asked.

  Ethan’s eyes snapped open. ‘I’m fine,’ he said.

  He didn’t look fine. There were deep lines around his eyes and his skin looked slightly grey. He looked like a man who was dealing with something physically painful.

  ‘Great speech,’ Rafael said. ‘Well done.’ Ethan gave a noncommittal grunt. ‘I didn’t say much.’

  ‘Sometimes it doesn’t need much,’ Abbie said. ‘It just needs the right words.’

  That brought the ghost of a smile to Ethan’s face. ‘What are you two doing out here, anyway?’ he asked. ‘You should be in there, having a good time.’ His smile twisted a little. ‘Or at least finding the right words.’ He pushed himself off the wall and headed back towards the ballroom. ‘I’m going to find another Scotch.’

  Abbie and Rafael looked at each other.

  ‘Shall we go back?’ Rafael asked. ‘Would you like to dance?’

  Abbie shook her head. ‘I think I might have had enough of so many glamorous people. And I’ve certainly had enough champagne.’

  Rafael’s face emptied of expression. Was he waiting for her to say that she needed to get back to the hospital? To Ella?

  ‘You know what I’d really like to do right now?’

  ‘No. What?’

  Abbie reached out and took his hand. Her heart skipped a beat. This was how she could show Rafael how much she wanted to try and fix things.

  ‘I’d like to go home,’ she whispered. ‘With you.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  STEPPING THROUGH THE door of the apartment in Gloucester Avenue was a bit like sitting with Rafael and waiting for Leo and Lizzie’s wedding to begin.

  Stepping back in time.

  They’d been so excited when they’d found this place. It was perfect. A period conversion that had retained all the character of its origins but had been modernised enough to make it a joy to live in. Tall windows let in lots of light and the polished floorboards made it feel warm and homely. The kitchen and bathrooms had everything they could have wished for. There was central heating and the private garden was walled in and safe for young children. The location was ideal, pretty much halfway between the two places they both worked in—the Hunter Clinic and the Lighthouse Children’s Hospital. Best of all, they had Regent’s Park and all it had to offer within a few minutes’ walk.

  It was no surprise that their offer on the apartment was accepted because it was meant to be. So much in love, life just couldn’t get any better. The stars were aligned and their perfect future together was just getting started.

  So very, very different to the way things were now.

  The furniture was all the same, right down to that controversial couch with its big blue throw, but the atmosphere was weird. Empty feeling. There was no excitement about the future lurking in any corners. This felt…awkward.

  ‘There’s wine in the fridge.’ Rafael was turning on the gas fire to add to the background warmth of the central heating. Did he, too, feel the odd chill of the joy that had gone from these rooms? ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘No.’ Abbie took off her coat and draped it over one arm of the couch, dropping her handbag beside it. ‘I had more than enough champagne at the reception. But you get something if you want to.’

  ‘Maybe later.’ Rafael stood with his back to the fire. The intensity of his gaze was unsettling.

  It had been Abbie’s suggestion to come home with him but now that they were here together for the first time in so many months she wasn’t sure that it had been the best idea. What was she going to
do now? Throw herself into his arms?

  No. That would feel as unnatural as standing here feeling like a stranger in her own home.

  Rafael was still staring at her. ‘Would you rather go back to the hospital? Are you worried about Ella?’

  ‘No.’ Abbie shook her head quickly. ‘I know she’ll be fine. She won’t even wake up until morning. And they’d ring me, anyway, if there was a problem. Oh…’ She reached for the handbag she’d discarded. ‘I forgot that I’d turned my phone off for the wedding ceremony. I’d better switch it back on.’

  ‘I haven’t had a call,’ Rafael said. ‘I had my phone on silent. I never switch it off completely, just in case there’s an emergency with a patient. If they hadn’t been able to reach you, I’m sure they would have contacted me.’

  ‘Of course.’ But Abbie turned her phone on anyway and watched the spinning circle on the screen as it booted up. She put it down as she realised that her diverted attention was only making it feel more awkward for Rafael but almost as soon as the device was out of her hands it sounded a message alert.

  Her gaze snagged on Rafael’s and held there for a heartbeat. And then he turned away with a flash of something like defeat washing over his face.

  She had given him hope, hadn’t she, saying that she wanted to go home with him? Now it seemed like Ella was about to come between them again.

  ‘It’s probably just Melanie telling me that everything’s fine.’

  But she had to look.

  And it wasn’t about Ella at all.

  Another heartbeat and all Abbie could do was close her eyes tightly as she clutched the phone against her chest with both hands.

  Dio…

  What the hell had been in that message?

  Something devastating, by the look of her. Rafael was in front of Abbie in only a couple of steps. He gripped her arms.

  ‘Che cosa? What has happened?’

  Abbie struggled to take an inward breath. ‘It’s not about Ella,’ she whispered.

  ‘Then what? What has made you look like this? Tell me…’

  ‘It’s…it’s… Toby.’