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Luca.
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, unable to make any sense of this, not wanting to think of the ramifications of his putting her forward for a different position – after they’d slept together. Was it that he wanted her out of his space, when he came back to the London office? Or that he truly wanted her to have the opportunities he thought she wanted?
“I’m fine where I am, Angela. If I was interested in transferring, I would have applied. I see the internal job vacancies, the same as everyone else.” She stood, forcing her lips to mimic a smile. “Thank you for thinking of me, though.”
“Are you sure? Because I was told in no uncertain terms that you wanted –,”
“You were misinformed. I’m happy where I am, for now.”
She left the office with her head high, but her heart sinking all the way to the ground, thirty stories beneath them.
Another week passed. Somehow, she got back into a more normal rhythm, working late – far later than usual. She found this helped. Being in the office under a groaning workload made it paradoxically harder to think about Luca, despite the fact the letterhead bore his name.
At home, she existed. She ate when necessary, slept in fits and spurts, showered twice daily out of habit, occasionally remembered to wash her hair. One day, an old photograph caught her attention and she laughed as she passed it, but the laughs turned into sobs. It had been taken for her se
cond anniversary with Ashton. They’d gone to see a show at the Royal Albert Hall. She ran her finger over the frame, her heart speeding up. If there was one small silver lining to what had happened with Luca, it was that she never thought about Ashton anymore.
But what she wouldn’t give for him to be the one she was missing. That pain had been manageable. She’d been surprised by their break up. Blindsided, in fact, but it hadn’t crippled her. His absence hadn’t made the very act of breathing feel onerous. She hadn’t missed him as though she was missing a huge part of herself.
She’d known she would eventually get over Ashton.
With Luca? She wasn’t so sure.
“You’re cheating.”
Nico grinned. “Why do you say that?”
Luca stared at his cards. “Because that’s the only explanation for why my hand looks like this.” He reached for his beer, took a long sip. “Did you speak to Raf today?”
Nico nodded. “We FaceTimed. He’s doing great. He’s going to look like a triangle when he gets out of hospital if he keeps doing his damned bicep workouts.”
Luca laughed, despite the fact he’d felt, for the past two weeks, as though his head was going to explode, as though anger was a physical part of him, another arm or leg. “But his strength?”
“They’re happy. Lauren was there.”
Luca’s heart clenched. His cousin had surprised them all by recently declaring himself madly in love with Yaya’s companion. Another one of them to do what they’d all sworn they wouldn’t and choose a life of happy domesticity. Luca’s grip on the beer bottle tightened. “I’m glad.”
“She says his physiotherapists are pleased with his work. There’s no permanent damage to the spinal cord. Now it’s a matter of strength and making sure the pathways to his brain can be reenergised.”
“That’s a relief. He was a damned fool to be climbing without a harness.”
“You know Raf,” Nico chided gently, then leaned forward. “Besides, I seem to have a very clear memory of you sprinting along the top of a passenger train in India.”
Luca’s eyes widened. “That’s different. I was drunk.”
“Oh, that’s much better,” Nico laughed.
“Do you ever think about that?”
“What it would have been like if you’d gone splat onto the tracks?”
“No,” Luca smiled curtly, waving his hand impatiently. “I mean what it was like to hike around like we did.”
Nico frowned. “Not really.” He played a card. “Do you?”
“Lately I have been.” Luca settled back in his chair, looking up at the sky. “Lately I’ve been thinking how great it would be to just go off-grid for a while.”
Nico leaned in. “Why?”
