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She stared at him in total confusion. He was dressed in a suit – that much was normal – but it was oversized on his newly slender frame. His skin was grey beneath his caramel tan, and dark bags were scored beneath his eyes.
His lips curled into a derisive half-smile. “What do you think?”
She continued to stare at him, shock spiralling through her at his totally Un-Carlo appearance. “You look ill. Are you sick?”
He let out a harsh bark of laughter. “You could say that.”
Jane’s heart turned over. “Oh, God, Carlo, what is it? Tell me now. Tell me what’s wrong.” The thought of something being wrong with him filled her with such total, gut-wrenching despondency that she could hardly think.
Carlo felt odd. Light headed. He tried to remember when he’d last eaten. It could have been the day before. Or the day before that? He knew Anna had been bringing him food, but he’d had little time nor interest in it. He leaned against the door jamb, feigning nonchalance to cover the sudden wave of exhaustion.
He was pretty sure he looked like shit, going from Jane’s reaction. If anything, the opposite could be said of her. She looked… stunning. His groin tightened in reaction to the nearness of her, as he scanned her glowing face, her beautiful eyes, her long, fair hair, and her beautiful body. God, he’d missed her.
“Can I come in?”
She nodded. “Of course.” As he moved inside her home, she wondered if she should put an arm around his waist. He looked in need of support. “Are you drunk?” She blurted out, thinking it could explain the way he seemed a little unsteady on his feet.
He laughed again, that same sound of gravelly disbelief. A hoarse noise of dissent. “No, Jane, I’m not drunk.” He’d been through that phase. The first
week after she’d left him – again – he’d spent solidly examining the bottom of a bottle of Whisky. Work had become his new obsession, and he’d hardly left his office in the last two weeks.
He moved into the lounge room and remained standing. “Your place looks different.”
She nodded, and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. “I sold it today.”
He stood very still. “You’re moving?”
“Yes.”
“Where to?”
Now it was her turn to laugh uncomfortably. “I don’t know yet. Maybe the countryside. I needed a change.”
He frowned. “In England?”
“I guess so.” She shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it. It all happened very quickly.”
“I see.”
Jane had called Carlo because she wanted to talk to him. Because she knew she needed to tell him about the baby. Because she knew she needed his support. But looking at him now, she wondered if the reverse wasn’t true.
“What’s happened to you?” She asked again, finally giving into her instincts and putting an arm around his waist. He frowned a little, but didn’t resist as she led him to the sofa and guided him to sit down.
Pride kept him from responding with the truth. Instead, he stuck to a version of it. “I’ve been in the middle of a difficult negotiation. It’s required me to work around the clock.”
Jane scowled. “You’ve always pushed yourself, but never like this. Your work has never taken a physical toll on you before.”
Anger wasn’t the emotion he wanted to feel, but it was the easiest to express. “How would you know, Jane? You’ve hardly been around the last few years, have you?”
She lowered her gaze, unwilling to let his sarcastic question derail her purpose. “Fine, you tell me, Carlo. Is this normal for you? Do you routinely fade away to nothing, because you’re working so hard?”
He glared at her, his whole body aching with pain at being close to her but not able to touch her. “What do you want, Jane?”
“What do I want?” She parroted, her confusion obvious.
“You called me. You said you wanted to talk.”
“Oh, right.” She nodded, and pushed to standing. “I do. But not until you’ve eaten something.”
