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Afterwards she wondered what she’d been hoping he’d say. That he would see her tomorrow, as planned? Place his hand on her arm in a gesture of comfort, or even give her a hug? But he didn’t. He remained exactly where he was—as if her proximity might contaminate him in some way.
But his features softened a little as he turned to Stacey and his deep voice was immensely kind—and something about both those things filled Nicola with a sense of wistfulness, which made her heart contract with hopeless longing.
‘Goodnight, Stacey,’ he said quietly. ‘Take heart from Harrison’s words, and, in the meantime, I will say a prayer for your son.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
FENDINGOFFQUESTIONSabout the identity of their knight in shining armour, Nicola took the following week off work and moved in to help Stacey with Jago, who delighted them all with his rapid and robust recovery. It was good to be able to offer support she thought, and—importantly—it kept her busy.
She managed to track down Harrison Drake’s address to discover he was a consultant at London’s biggest paediatric hospital and sent a thank you card, as well as a contribution to his research project. She also attempted to demonstrate to Stacey the benefits of keeping a small space tidy and was surprised by the success of her endeavours—she’d certainly never seen the place look so neat before, nor the fridge stocked with so much healthy food. Her brother’s girlfriend had even started talking about learning how to cook. Maybe Jago’s sickness had been the wake-up call she’d needed. As if she’d suddenly realised she needed to make life as good as it possibly could be for her tiny baby—and for Callum, when he was eventually released.
But no matter how many questions Stacey asked about Alessio, Nicola blocked them all.
She didn’t want to talk about him.
She didn’t even want to think about him.
Some hope.
He was constantly on her mind. When she was making coffee in the morning, or forcing herself to eat a salad from the deli at lunchtime. In the bath, and in her dreams. Especially her dreams. Perhaps it was true what they said about absence making the heart grow fonder and that was the reason he was obsessing her thoughts so much. Because Nicola hadn’t heard from Alessio since the night of Jago’s illness—not a single word—and that had left her feeling hurt and bewildered. Was it over? Just like that? She’d known the relationship was always destined to end and there was never going to be an easy way for that to happen, but this felt unsatisfactory. Unfinished.
She remembered his cold and forbidding expression as he had surveyed her from the other side of the room. His failure to reach out and comfort her. Had he been appalled by that unexpected glimpse into the chaos of her private life? Had it driven home her complete unsuitability to be the lover of a man like him? Several times she picked up the phone to text him, but never followed through, aware that falsely cheerful messages were never convincing and ran the risk of making her look desperate.
But she knew from past experience that the only way to move forward was to learn from the past and grab at the present with both hands. It was pointless wondering why she had been ghosted from Alessio’s life. It hurt more than she had ever imagined it would—but she would get over it.
She threw herself into promoting the gallery’s latest collection of seascapes by an artist from South Devon, which had opened to great fanfare in the art world. She took a trip to Northumbria to advise on the hanging of a collection of paintings in a private home. Yet, despite all her best intentions, the days all seemed to bleed into each other until one was indistinguishable from the next. The autumn winds were fierce, the bronze statuestillhadn’t sold and the shorter, colder days filled Nicola with a gloom which wouldn’t seem to shift.
In an attempt to shake herself out of her lethargy, she went hiking one Sunday morning, bought a newspaper on the way back and had just settled down to read it when the shrill ring of the doorbell disturbed her. Putting down the paper, she frowned. Because she hadn’t invited anyone round. In truth, she never did. Old habits died hard. This washerspace. Her refuge. It was small, yes, but it was all hers—so long as she kept paying the rent—and she felt safe here.
But when she peered into the door viewer, she froze. Shock iced over her skin, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest when she saw who was standing there. Tall, dark and indescribably sexy. The man who had been haunting her sleeping and her waking hours. Leaning against the wall for support, she closed her eyes and fought to control her rapid breathing.
Alessio.
Here.
She swallowed. Now what?
The Nicola she had been when she’d first met him would have quizzed him coolly over the intercom, but the Nicola she had become was aching to see him again...unable to stop her imagination from going into fantasy overdrive as she buzzed him in. But the moment she opened the door she realised just how stupid that fantasy had been. Alessio wasn’t here because he had missed her, or because he wanted her—at least, not if his grim expression was anything to go by.
‘How’s Jago?’ he demanded.
‘Better,’ she said, touched by his solicitude and softening a little. ‘Completely better, actually. I... I probably should have let you know.’
‘Yes, you probably should—although I gather you sent a note to Harrison,’ he said, shooting her a blue bullet of a stare. ‘Are you going to let me in, Nicola?’ he questioned, with quiet, scientific precision. ‘Or are you still intent on keeping me out of your home?’
‘Of course,’ she said, opening the door wider.
He stepped inside and, in a funny sort of way, the continued flintiness of his expression helped bring Nicola to her senses. Time to cancel the fairy tale, she realised. Time to let go of the dream. ‘Howdidyou find out where I lived?’ she asked dully.
‘I got your address from Sergio.’
She stared at him in dismay. ‘You didn’t tell him—?’
‘That we’ve been having sex?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘No, I didn’t tell him. Don’t worry, Nicola. Your ice-maiden status remains intact. He may have been curious but I certainly didn’t enlighten him by explaining that up until recently I had been fulfilling a position as your occasionalstud.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Good enough to sleep with but not good enough to share any other parts of your life.’
His abrasive words indicated the true depth of his hostility and Nicola wondered if it had always been there, simmering beneath the surface. She could feel herself slowly deflating, like a helium balloon being speared by a pin, and knew she couldn’t allow that to happen. She had to be strong, because strength was about the only thing she had left. That, and her pride. ‘Why are you here, Alessio?’ she said quietly.
He nodded, as if he had been expecting this question a lot sooner, fingers dipping into his jacket pocket before withdrawing something which glittered like a coiled serpent in the centre of his palm. A modestly thin gold chain. Her only piece of ‘real’ jewellery and something she’d saved up for—fulfilling a stupid desire to fit in with the sophisticated world she sometimes inhabited. She blinked at it before looking up. ‘I was wondering where that was,’ she said, but couldn’t deny the great stab of disappointment which speared her heart as she met his sapphire gaze. He’d come to return her necklace and that was the reason he was here. The only reason. Of course it was.
