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They would talk properly some day.
‘Where is he?’ Abby asked.
‘Having his teeth reimplanted, I think.’
‘No, I mean, where’s Matteo?’
‘I don’t know,’ Bella answered. ‘He just left afterwards and no one knows where he is...’
Abby did.
As she rung off she heard the door and then his voice and there, swaying in the doorway, looking rather the worse for wear, was Matteo.
‘I know you hate violence...’ he started.
Abby did.
‘But he had to pay.’
Matteo had a black eye and bruised knuckles and a chipped front tooth. It would have been some fight; Abby knew how hard Hunter worked to stay in shape and she also knew, firsthand, how violent his temper could be.
‘Come in,’ Abby said and she held the door open but Matteo shook his head.
‘Nope, I’m just here to tell you one thing. Two actually.’
‘Well, can we at least do that inside?’ Abby asked and finally Matteo nodded and in he came. She spoke first. ‘I tried to call you.’
‘I threw my phone out the car.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I didn’t want you to talk me down,’ Matteo said, ‘which you would have tried to and then you’d have worried all night.’ Then he was more direct. ‘And I was cross with you.’
She’d thought that he might be.
‘What Hunter did to you was despicable. What he’s still doing to you, you shouldn’t allow. Stop wasting your life exacting revenge.’
‘I know that now.’ Abby was trying not to cry. ‘Even when we won the cup, I kept wanting to explain that I was happy, just that we’d won, not because of beating him.’
‘Good,’ Matteo said and then he gave in standing and went and took a seat on a large dark sofa.
He looked around her apartment and, after the night he had had, it was nice and relaxing just to sit in silence. There must be a huge tree outside because the only view he could see as he stared out was green leaves.
‘I’ll get to the second thing in a moment,’ Matteo said and rested his head back for a while.
‘Can I get you anything?’ Abby offered.
‘A drink.’
She guessed he didn’t mean coffee.
‘I don’t think you should be drinking,’ Abby said but then went and poured him a very nice cognac.
‘I thought you didn’t drink,’ Matteo said, taking a long, slow sip.
‘I run a motor team,’ Abby said. ‘They get tired of lemonade. Actually, my friend Bella gave it to me when we came fifth last year. I’ve been hiding it from them since then.’
‘Good.’
