I rack my brain, trying to remember the name of the university where she works, pacing the floor until I manage to break through the fog in my head and access a memory. I remember now that it was named after one of the saints – fitting, really.
I use the internet browser on my phone to look through the possibilities and when ‘St George’ comes up my brain sparks. That’s it. St George’s University. In a department that has something to do with heart attacks in young athletes. Another search finally leads me to the department I need and its address in London.
With adrenaline rushing through my veins I leave my apartment and go outside to hail a cab.
* * *
Juno
After a horrendous day of worry about my father’s condition, where I’d paced around Peretola airport waiting to get on a flight back home, I’d finally heard from Maya that he was out of surgery, out of danger and already demanding to be discharged from hospital.
It seemed even life-threatening injuries couldn’t keep my autocratic father down for long.
Joking aside, though, I was hugely relieved to hear he was all right and as soon as I got the good news, I finally allowed myself to cry out all the tension I’d been carrying around with me like a ten-ton weight.
It took me another few hours to secure a seat on a plane back to London then two hours in the air and two more till I was finally back at my apartment in Notting Hill, where I’d crawled straight into bed. The next day was spent visiting my father in hospital and supporting my sisters, so by Thursday I was totally shattered when I finally dragged myself into work.
I probably should have called in sick, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in my flat with just my heartache to keep me company. So I braved the tube, and the curious questions from my colleagues about where I’d been on holiday, and smiled politely as they told me how well I looked. Even Adam made a point of stopping by my desk to check in with me.
A couple of days ago I’d listened to the message he’d left for me that fateful night, and had decided answering it could wait till I got back. Needless to say, it hadn’t been a booty call.
From the way he looked at me when he passed me in the corridor just now, however, I’m beginning to wonder whether the next one will be.
I won’t be taking that call, though. Not a chance. From our short conversation earlier, it became patently clear to me that there was nothing there for me any more. No attraction whatsoever.Nada.
I’m making myself an extra-strong cup of coffee in the break room when I hear the sound of loud male voices in the corridor outside. I almost drop my mug when I realise I’m listening to the beautiful, haunting sound of an Italian male’s voice. But it can’t be Sandro’s, can it? Why would he be here, right now?
‘Yes, that’s me,’ I hear another voice reply and I make an involuntary squeaking noise when I place Adam’s voice as the other male. So an Italian man is asking for Adam. This doesn’t bode well.
Putting the mug down, I rush out into the corridor, my heart racing, to see the extraordinary sight of Sandro, looking as dauntingly handsome as ever, staring down at my rather cowed-looking colleague.
‘She’s an amazing woman and you’re a fucking idiot for turning her down,’ Sandro is saying in a loud, commanding voice. ‘I can vouch for that personally. I just wanted you to know that.’
‘Erm… okay,’ Adam says, holding up his hands and backing away, clearly perplexed and perhaps a little bit scared by what he’s found himself entangled in here.
‘And the reason I know that,’ Sandro continues, his amazing eyes flashing with a passion that makes me catch my breath, ‘is because I made the same stupid mistake as you did. And if she doesn’t forgive me, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my fucking life.’
‘Sandro!’ I call out loudly, aware of some of my other colleagues sticking their heads out of their offices to see what the drama is all about.
He turns to look at me and the moment our eyes meet I know it’s all going to be okay. That he’s suffering the same way I am and that he wants what we had back. He wants me back.
Not that I’m going to let him just waltz in and sweep me off my feet without making him work for it first.
I watch with my heart in my mouth as he slowly walks over to me. My body reacts in its usual wanton way whenever he’s near me and I flush with heat and longing for him.
Stepping back into the break room, I beckon for him to follow me.
‘Why are you here?’ I ask as soon as I’ve shut the door on the curious faces of my colleagues.
‘Because I love you,’ he says without preamble, moving closer to me, the delicious scent of him that I’ve missedso muchwinding through my senses. ‘And I wanted to tell you that I love you and that I’m a fucking selfish idiot. I know that now, but I’m going to change. For you, Juno – and for me, but mostly for you. And I’m begging you to forgive me. I want you back. With me. Where you belong.’
My whole body is shaking with relief and happiness now. ‘You love me?’ I say, wanting to hear him say it again.
‘Yes. I love you.’
I nod and fold my arms, not sure I’m going to be able to maintain my cool, but determined at least to try for a few more minutes. To torture him for just a little bit longer, as his absence from my life has been torturing me for the past few days.
‘Just tell me one thing. Was it an act at first? Were you pretending for those first few days to have fun with me?’
