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“No. He didn’t have anything to say – except that it was strange being here but not being together.”
His laugh was a cynical burst. “Charming.”
“What?”
“Sounds like a guy who wants his cake and to eat it too.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he’s here with his new girlfriend but he’d like to know you’re still pining for him.”
Bronte nodded. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. Guys like him are always the same.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I got a read on him the minute I met him.”
Despite the tone of their conversation, she smiled, his arrogant assertion and bald confidence both so completely ‘Luca’. “Oh, yeah?”
He made a deep, rumbling noise of agreement. The song slowed down and then changed to another gentle ballad.
“He’s selfish. Vain. Definitely someone who flatters his higher-ups in the interest of getting ahead. I bet he plays golf or something similar with his boss on the weekends, and tells you it’s in the name of a ‘promotion’.”
Her smile was twisty. “And polo.”
“Ah. And polo, si, of course. And instead of appreciating the beautiful, intelligent woman he was somehow lucky enough to be in a relationship with, he walked away from you for someone who might fit his image better, despite the fact she’s clearly got nothing on you.”
“You don’t know her either,” Bronte surprised herself by defending the other woman.
“No, but I know you.” He slowed down, his features laced with sincerity. “And I know that a woman like you would always have been threatening to a douche like him. You’re too smart. Too perceptive, funny, kind. Too likable. You would always be the star, and he wouldn’t like that.”
She could hardly catch her breath. “Luca –,”
“You should be with a man who lets you shine, Bronte. Not one who’d be happier casting you in his shadow.”
Emotions welled up inside of her. She dipped her head forward so he wouldn’t see the way her eyes were sheened with moisture.
But Luca would never let her hide herself from him. His finger gently tilted her chin, lifting her face back to his. “And you should definitely never have let a guy like that break your heart into – what did you say?”
“A million pieces,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Beyond repair.”
“Ah. Yes.”
“He’s not worth it.”
She shook her head. “I know that.” And she did. With startling clarity, she realised that seeing Ashton this weekend hadn’t been at all as she’d expected. She wasn’t missing him, or pining for him. It was confusing, and sad, but even those feelings were watered down somewhat.
“I think it’s partly a grieving process, but maybe I’m not even grieving him so much as the life we had. The life I thought I wanted.”
“Which was?”
She scrunched up her nose as she considered that. “It was…nice.”
He was quiet, moving his hips in time to the music, so the longer she was silent, contemplating what she meant, the more aware she became of his body, of the feeling of his warmth, his strength, his powerful anatomy. Her heart began to beat a tattoo that far exceeded the gentle rhythm of the song.
