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His head jerked back a little. “Cristo, no, Bronte, that was all for you.”
Slightly mollified, she lifted her shoulders. “I told you, I like what I do. But if you think I won’t be able to do my job because of what happened between us –,”
He lifted a hand to silence her. “That never entered my mind. You’re a professional, I know that.” He cleared his throat. “How’s your father?”
Something else Alex had said filtered through to her mind. “He’s much better. It wasn’t a stroke, in the end, but something temporary that completely mimics the symptoms. It was horrible t
o see him like that but day on day he’s improved, and yesterday he was back to cooking, so that’s something.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
She hesitated a moment. “Alex – the temp who covered me – I thought he said you – came to the hospital? But he was wrong, right? I mean, why would you?”
“He wasn’t wrong.”
Bronte’s heart shifted. “What?”
“When I heard about your dad’s accident, I came to see you.” He walked away from her, towards the coffee machine, pushing a pod into the top and sliding a cup under the nozzle. She watched, a frown on her face.
“I didn’t know that.”
“No.”
“You came to see me but – was I not there?” That didn’t make sense. Bronte had basically moved into the hospital.
“I did see you.”
She couldn’t understand what he meant.
“You were busy. I didn’t want to intrude. I ascertained your father’s condition and figured you had all the support you needed.”
It didn’t make any sense. Why come all that way and not tell her he was there? Why come all that way at all?
Unless –
Her eyes swept shut as she replayed the last few days, and Ashton’s constant presence with her family, during the hospital time.
“When you say ‘support’,” she prompted softly, her voice uneven.
“Yes, I saw him.” Luca’s fingers were white as they gripped the coffee cup. “I presume you’re back together?”
Bronte’s legs weren’t steady enough to hold her. She reached for his desk, as support. When Luca turned to face her, it got worse. She propped a hip on the edge.
“Why do you say that?”
He grew very still. “Are you saying you’re not?”
“I’m not saying anything. I was asking,” she murmured.
“Bronte,” her name was a plea on his lips. “I saw you two. It was quite obvious you’d resumed a relationship.”
He sounded – hurt. No, worse. Tortured. His voice sounded as though it were filled with heavy, aching pain.
She wished again that she had some papers or something she could hold, anything to keep her hands occupied.
“Ashton is a family friend. He was at the hospital in that capacity.”
Luca stared at her. “I saw the two of you –,”
