About the Authors

ALISON ROBERTS lives in Christchurch, New Zealand, and has written over sixty Mills & Boon Medical Romances. As a qualified paramedic she has personal experience of the drama and emotion to be found in the world of medical professionals, and loves to weave stories with this rich background—especially when they can have a happy ending.

When Alison is not writing you’ll find her indulging her passion for dancing or spending time with her friends (including Molly the dog) and her daughter Becky, who has grown up to become a brilliant artist.

LYNNE MARSHALL used to worry she had a serious problem with daydreaming, then she discovered she was supposed to write those stories! A late bloomer, Lynne came to fiction writing after being a Registered Nurse for twenty-five years and when her children were nearly grown. Now she battles the empty nest by writing stories from her heart which always include a romance with a touch of medicine for both Medicals and True Love.

To find out more about Lynne, please visit her website: www.lynnemarshallweb.com

KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel, and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history, she helps out at her children’s schools. She also loves cooking—spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They’re also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.)

Writing for Mills & Boon has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She’s been writing Medical Romances for over ten years now.

Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com

Hot Single Docs: London’s Calling

200 Harley Street: The Proud Italian

Alison Roberts

200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London

Lynne Marshall

200 Harley Street: The Soldier Prince

Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08563-2

HOT SINGLE DOCS: LONDON’S CALLING

200 Harley Street: The Proud Italian © 2014 Harlequin Books S.A 200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London © 2014 Harlequin Books S.A 200 Harley Street: The Soldier Prince © 2014 Harlequin Books S.A

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

200 Harley Street: The Proud Italian

Back Cover Text

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

200 Harley Street: The Soldier Prince

Back Cover Text

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

200 Harley Street: The Proud Italian

Alison Roberts

With pride and with passion…!

Top-notch surgeons Rafael and Abbie de Luca were once the Hunter Clinic’s “dream team.” But the joyous birth of their little daughter, Ella, brought the devastating news that she was suffering from a life-threatening condition, and their idyllic life came crashing down.

Now, three months after her heartbreaking decision to ignore Rafael’s wishes and try an experimental treatment for their daughter, Abbie has returned with a recovering Ella. As she’s reunited with her proud Italian husband it’s clear that their time apart has changed them…but can they rekindle their once bright and burning passion?

CHAPTER ONE

WINNING WAS SUPPOSED to be what mattered.

And it was. The end justified the means, didn’t it?

Of course it did. That couldn’t be doubted for a heartbeat in this case. The blanket-wrapped bundle in Abbie de Luca’s arms was the absolute proof of that. The battle had been hard fought and gruelling enough to have almost destroyed her but she had won.

No. Ella had won. Her precious baby, only just a year old, had fought the killer disease of acute lymphoblastic leukaemia at an age where the greatest challenge should have been learning to sit up and take her first steps. The fact that they were being sent back from the only place in the world that had offered the new and radical treatment so that Ella could continue her recuperation at the Lighthouse Children’s Hospital in London was proof of having won the battle. It meant she was a huge step closer to going home.

But was the ‘home’ they’d left behind still there?

For either of them?

Being escorted off the flight from New York before any other passengers and fast-tracked through customs at Heathrow airport like royalty should be making the triumph of winning all the sweeter.

So why did Abbie feel as if she was stepping onto a new battlefield? One that was only marginally less significant than the life-and-death struggle that had represented most of the three months she had been away with her tiny daughter.

‘There’s an ambulance waiting for you, Mrs de Luca.’ The customs official eyed the wheelchair beside Abbie that the steward from the plane had been pushing. ‘Is this all going with you?’

‘No. It’s going back on the next flight.’ Abbie unwrapped Ella just enough to unhook the electrodes from the monitoring equipment. ‘It was only a precaution. We didn’t even need the oxygen.’ They hadn’t needed a medical escort either. One of the rare positive aspects of having a paediatric surgeon for a mother, although the negative side of knowing too much had outweighed that far too many times already.

Ella stirred in her arms but didn’t wake. Abbie took a moment to check the connections of the central line the baby still had under her collarbone and made sure the syringe driver attached to the tubing hadn’t run out of the drugs that were still a necessary part of treatment. Then she tucked it securely back into the folds of blanket and gave Ella a kiss on the few stray wisps of hair she had somehow retained.

As Ella relaxed back into sleep a tiny hand came up to touch her mother’s cheek, as if she was reassuring herself that she was safe. She was probably smiling, Abbie thought, watching the crinkle deepen around the tightly closed eyes. Shame nobody could see it because of the mask needed to protect the baby from airborne infections.

The gesture had been enough to melt hearts around her anyway.

‘Aww...’ The burly customs official was smiling. ‘What a wee pet.’

‘Adorable...’ The steward was blinking hard. ‘I’m so happy she’s going to be all right now, Abbie.’

‘Thanks, Damien.’ Abbie had to swallow the big lump in her own throat. Happy didn’t touch the sides of how she felt about her daughter’s new prognosis. ‘And thanks so much for taking such good care of us on the flight.’

‘It was a privilege. Have you got someone meeting you now?’

Abbie nodded. ‘The ambulance is here. They’re taking us to the Lighthouse. That’s the children’s hospital I work at.’

But the steward was shaking his head. Frowning. ‘No... I meant... You know...’

Abbie did know. He meant someone with a personal attachment. Like Ella’s father?

‘Maybe. It was a bit of a last-minute rush and we weren’t sure we’d get onto this flight. The New York team obviously managed to arrange the transfer but I’m not sure who else knows about it.’

She’d tried to ring Rafael but his phone had gone to his message service. Mr de Luca was in surgery all day, she’d been informed. Could they take a message? No, Abbie had responded. She’d be seeing him soon enough.

Or maybe that should be too soon? She’d walked out on her marriage to fight this battle. Maybe that was why success wasn’t tasting as sweet as it should.

Maybe the price had been too high.

‘Abbie...’ The man who’d been allowed into this private area of the customs hall and was now striding towards them wasn’t an airport official.

‘Oh, my...’ Damien clearly appreciated the attributes of the tall, sexy newcomer. ‘Is that Ella’s daddy?’

‘No.’ Abbie shook her head, bemused. ‘He’s more like my boss.’ And clearly a commanding enough presence, even out of a medical environment, to have had rules broken for him.

The steward was grinning as he started to manoeuvre the wheelchair out of the way. ‘Tough job,’ he murmured, ‘but I guess someone’s gotta do it.’

Abbie felt her lips curve as she raised her voice. ‘Ethan...what on earth are you doing here?’

‘I happened to field a call to Rafael about your arrival time and the ambulance transfer. He’s caught up in Theatre so I thought I’d come for the ride and make sure you had a welcoming committee.’

And who could be more appropriate than one of the Hunter brothers, the owners of the prestigious London plastic-and-reconstructive-surgery clinic that employed both of Ella’s parents as specialist paediatric surgeons. The clinic that had made it financially possible for Ella to go to the States and undertake the risky, experimental treatment that had been her only hope of a cure.

‘Does...does Rafael know we’ve come home?’

‘Not yet.’ Ethan’s gaze gave nothing away. ‘The case he’s operating on today is putting him under considerable pressure. I...didn’t want to distract him.’ The hint of a smile was sympathetic. ‘I’ll let him know the moment he comes out, I promise.’

Abbie simply nodded. There was a subtext here. That Rafael would need prior warning before seeing her again? Hearing her voice, even, given that their minimal communication of late had been via text and email? That, without some kind of intermediary, his Italian pride might be enough for him to refuse to see her at all? Maybe their first meeting would involve a solicitor and official documents outlining shared custody agreements for their child. How sad would that be?

‘You’re good to go.’ The customs official stamped their passports and nodded towards someone near the door. ‘Mr Hunter shouldn’t really be in here. They’ll show you out to where the ambulance crew is waiting. Your luggage will be sent by taxi as soon as it’s offloaded.’

Ethan picked up the cabin bag by Abbie’s feet but his gaze rested on the bundle in her arms. ‘You okay? Would you rather I carried Ella?’

Abbie shook her head. ‘I’m good.’

She wasn’t about to hand her baby to someone else to carry, despite her precious burden feeling heavier by the minute. She was exhausted, that was all. These last few months had taken their toll, physically as well as emotionally, but she couldn’t afford to stop being strong.

Not when she was stepping onto a new battlefield.

At least she had an ally. Given what Abbie had heard about his heroic stint in Afghanistan, it was probably overkill in any protection stakes, but there was also the history of the bad blood between the Hunter brothers. If she and Rafael did need an intermediary, someone who was experienced in negotiating the kind of tension that represented the dark side of a loving relationship was ideal.

Not that Ethan gave much away. The slight limp he walked with, which was a legacy of his army days, attracted more than casual stares as they walked to where the ambulance was parked, but he gave no sign of being aware of the curiosity.

And when they were tucked up in the back of the ambulance, on the M4 and heading into the city, he gave no hint that Abbie might be facing any escalating complications in her life.

He and Rafael were friends but they were men. Had they shared anything more personal in the time she’d been away? A late-night card game and plenty of whisky, perhaps, along with commiseration over their disastrous love lives? Maybe Ethan had reminded Rafael that the odds had been stacked against his marriage succeeding anyway. Sure, they’d been very much in love with each other but they’d barely had time to get to know each other properly, had they? They may have chosen to get married themselves but others would no doubt have viewed it as a shotgun wedding when they’d known that a baby was already on the way.

That baby was still asleep, bless her, now safely cocooned in the baby seat strapped onto the stretcher. Ella and Ethan sat facing her, the ambulance crew happy to sit up front, chatting, knowing that their transfer patient had a privileged level of medical supervision in the back.

The traffic slowed as they joined the flow on the Great West Road. A perfect opportunity to test the water, Abbie thought, but...good grief...she felt ridiculously nervous about it. She knew she couldn’t just dive straight in with what was foremost on her mind but, to her dismay, her voice still came out unmistakably shaky.

‘H-how are things going at the clinic?’

‘Good. Very busy. You would have seen some of the publicity over our latest charity case?’

‘Ah...no... Sorry, I’m a bit out of touch. I haven’t seen much news for ages. Is it a paediatric case?’

‘Yes. A ten-year-old Afghan girl—Anoosheh—who was noticed when her orphanage was evacuated. She got abandoned on the doorstep as a toddler when her disease became more extreme. Now she’s got a neurofibromatosis that’s the size of a melon and has disfigured half her face to the extent that she was being used as a servant and kept well hidden from any prospective adoptive parents that visited the orphanage. Not only that, she’s probably lost the sight in one eye and is gradually losing patent airways.’

‘Oh...poor thing.’

‘Today’s surgery won’t be the last but hopefully the result will be enough to show people that there’s a little girl in there who just needs to be loved. There’s huge media interest and there’s been some offers of adoptive homes in the UK already. I imagine there’s a pack of reporters waiting to pounce on Rafael as soon as he’s out of Theatre. I’ll try and head them off but it’s just as well he can cope with that kind of pressure while he’s operating.’

‘Yes...he’s good at that.’

Because he could detach himself from his own emotional involvement and see the bigger picture?

The way he had even when he’d been dealing with the trauma of his own daughter’s prognosis?

Abbie’s heart was thumping in her chest. She took a deep breath. ‘So he’s...um...okay, then?’

‘Seems to be.’ There was a short silence, as though Ethan was debating whether to say anything more, and then he slid a brief, sideways glance at Abbie. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone try to bury themselves in their work so effectively before. He’s taken on every difficult case he could possibly squeeze into his schedule. And then some. I’ve barely seen him.’

Oh...no confessions of heartbreak over a card session, then. No admitting that he might have made a terrible mistake by issuing the ultimatum that if Abbie insisted on taking Ella to the States then their marriage was over.

But the argument he’d felt so passionately justified in upholding had been that their daughter’s quality of life outweighed its quantity. That they didn’t have the right to put her through so much extra suffering when the chances of success were so small.

Surely the fact that it had worked was enough to justify her decision to go? Wouldn’t Rafael be so thrilled to have the prospect of Ella’s long-term survival that that ultimatum was now irrelevant?

Maybe. But there was more to it, wasn’t there? He was her husband and a proud man. How much damage to their relationship had she done by refusing to respect his opinion and openly defying him?

And worse than that—much worse—she’d taken a sick baby away from her adoring father. She’d seen the pain in Rafael’s eyes as she’d walked away with their daughter in her arms. He hadn’t expected to see her alive again. How painful would that have been? He had every right to hate her for that.

Abbie had had Ella in her arms and she’d still cried all the way to New York.

So Rafael had shut himself away. She’d guessed that by how distant he’d sounded when she’d tried to call him. By how impersonal his email correspondence had rapidly become. He’d buried himself in his work to the extent that when Abbie had reached out in the darkest days, so far away and so lonely and so desperate for support, the response she’d received had seemed cold and clinical. As if his emotional involvement with both herself and Ella was a thing of the past.

Was it all over?

It wouldn’t be fair to try and get any further clues from Ethan.

It was Rafael that Abbie needed to talk to.

Needed to see. The longing was getting stronger by the minute, as if her body realised that the distance between them was closing rapidly. She still loved her husband. Yes, they had pushed each other away and there was a lot to forgive on both sides, but the love was still there. It always would be.

Rafael would welcome Ella back into his life, she had no doubt at all about that. But would she be welcome?

The prospect of the rift between them never healing was terrifying.

With a huge effort, Abbie tried to find some inner strength. To feel positive. She even managed to find a smile to offer Ethan.

‘So what else is happening? Have Leo and Lizzie set a date for the wedding yet?’

‘Yes. It’s going to be the last Saturday in April.’

‘What? Good grief...that’s only a couple of weeks away.’

‘Tell me about it. A quiet affair might have been easily organised but the kind of splash that goes with a high-society wedding at Claridge’s? I’m trying to stay well out of it all.’

Abbie smiled. ‘Good luck with that.’

Ethan snorted. ‘Yeah... I haven’t been entirely successful. Lizzie’s managed to talk me into being best man. And that means I’ll have to come up with some kind of speech.’

‘I’m sure you can do it. Even with a tight deadline. But why are they in such a rush?’

Ethan shrugged. ‘Guess they didn’t want to wait. They’re in love.’

There was something in Ethan’s tone that made the conversation dry up completely at this point. Abbie didn’t know the story behind why the Hunter brothers had been estranged for so many years but, like everyone else associated with the clinic, she was aware of the tension that still lingered between the men. The fact that Lizzie had been the one to persuade Ethan to be best man was evidence that things still weren’t easy.

Was that all there was to whatever was remaining unspoken? Was Ethan happy for Leo or did he have doubts that the marriage would succeed? Maybe she and Rafael were being seen as an example of marrying in haste and repenting at leisure.

The lump in Abbie’s throat made it too hard to take a new breath. To try and distract herself she leaned over Ella and stroked her baby’s cheek softly with her forefinger.

The welling up of love she had for her child wasn’t enough to distract her completely. She and Rafael had been in love like that once. Not very long ago, in fact. They should still be in the honeymoon phase of their marriage but look at where they were now.

What should have been a perfect union so quickly blessed with a beautiful child had been blown apart by a cruel twist of fate.

And now Abbie was returning to where it had all happened.

The pieces of that perfect life were going to be in the same place again.

What remained to be seen was whether it was going to be possible to put them back together again.

A glance through the tinted glass of the ambulance windows showed that they were passing Regent’s Park. There were taxis and double-decker buses nose to tail around them. Definitely London. Home. God, it was good to be back. She could even see the big square brick building on the end of Harley Street coming up—a close neighbour of the Hunter Clinic.

Ethan followed her line of vision.

‘Have you missed it?’

‘So much.’ But it felt distant. Like part of previous life. How hard was it going to be to find her way back?

‘Are you ready to come back to work? We desperately need you as soon as you can manage and I know that they’ve been holding their breath to get you back on board at the Lighthouse.’

‘I could start tomorrow.’

‘Really? That would be terrific. But won’t you need time to get Ella settled?’

Abbie’s smile was poignant. ‘The oncology ward at the Lighthouse is more of a home for Ella than anywhere else. She’s spent most of her life in there. And the staff are like a huge collection of aunties and grannies. The sooner we get things back to normal, the better for both of us, I think.’

For all of us, she amended silently.

* * *

Rafael de Luca stripped off his bloodied gloves and dropped them in the bin. Then he pulled at his mask, breaking the strings and bending the wire that strengthened the top hem as he sent it after the gloves.

Finally, he could take a deep breath of unfiltered, fresh-feeling air. Not just because the mask was gone but because the gruelling surgery that had kept him on his feet for so many hours he’d lost count was over.

They’d done well. The team he’d gathered around him to perform this complex operation had been outstanding. In an ideal world they were maybe not exactly who he would have chosen to work so closely with but the choice of his perfect partner had been taken away when Abbie had gone, hadn’t it?

The ‘dream team,’ they’d been known as at the Hunter Clinic. Such perfect partners in the operating theatre, it had seemed inevitable that they would find they were a perfect match outside work hours as well.

Ha...

So much for fate. And so much for a distraction from his modus operandi these days. That momentary flash of recognising what had been missing from his theatre today was as far as he would allow it to go. And that had only happened because he was so incredibly exhausted. His back ached abominably from standing in one position for far too long. His eyes ached from peering through microscopic lenses for the fine work and a generalised ache in his head from such prolonged and fierce concentration was gaining vigour.

With his gown removed and balled up to join the other disposable items in the bin, Rafael could push open the double doors and exit Theatre. With some time in hand before checking on young Anoosheh in Recovery and no concerned family to go and talk to, he could do what he most wanted and go and stand under a hot shower for a considerable period of time. He needed a shave, too.

There would be reporters anxious to hear how the surgery had gone but nobody would expect him to front up to a camera until he’d had time to clean up properly. And maybe he wouldn’t have to do it at all. Rafael could see Ethan Hunter waiting outside Theatre. Far better that the media dealt with the man who was not only one of the owners of the Hunter Clinic but in charge of the charity side of the business and directly responsible for Anoosheh being brought to London for her life-changing surgery.

‘Rafael... How did it go?’

‘Good.’ He nodded his greeting. ‘As good as we could have hoped for. The tumour is gone. She has a titanium plate in her jaw and we’ve reconstructed her nasal passages. There’s more work to be done, of course. When she’s recovered from this.’ The finer work of removing excess scar tissue and repositioning facial features. The kind of work Abbie excelled at.

Letting his breath out in a weary sigh, Rafael rubbed at his forehead and pinched his temples with a thumb and third finger as he screwed his eyes shut. Dio, but he was tired.

‘And the eye?’

Rafael opened his. ‘They think it may still be viable. Time will tell if she can see out of it now that the obstruction is cleared.’

‘Good. That gives me enough to update the media.’

‘Grazie.’ Rafael found a smile. ‘I appreciate you doing that. I’m going to hit the shower and then head home.’ He found himself staring at Ethan’s odd expression. ‘What? You want me to face the cameras after all?’

‘No, it’s not that. It’s...’

‘What?’ Rafael’s smile was fading.

‘Abbie,’ Ethan said quietly.

Rafael’s heart skipped a beat and then thudded painfully. Something had happened. To Ella? Oh, no...not that. Si prega di dio, not that...

‘She’s here, Rafael,’ Ethan said into the stillness. ‘They’re both here. Ella’s been transferred to the paediatric oncology ward here to finish her recuperation.’

Rafael could only keep staring. Why hadn’t he known about this? Why hadn’t Abbie contacted him? Because she couldn’t even bring herself to talk to him any more? Was that how things were going to be now?

‘It was a last-minute decision, apparently.’ Ethan wasn’t meeting his gaze any longer. ‘The call came in after you’d started the surgery on Anoosheh. I decided it was better if you weren’t distracted so I took it on myself to go and meet them at the airport. I’m sorry you didn’t get the message when it was intended.’

Rafael made a noncommittal sound. This wasn’t Ethan’s fault. Surely the decision to transfer Ella would have been made days ago. Abbie could have let him know. Or maybe she had... He’d been so focussed on this major surgery that he hadn’t checked his personal email in a day or two. He hadn’t even checked in with his message service since yesterday.

And what did any of that matter anyway?

They were here.

Just a floor or two and a few long corridors away.

The two people who meant more to him than anyone else on this earth were in the building so what the hell was he doing, standing here?

‘I have to go,’ he snapped. ‘I have to see them.’

The relief that a long, hot shower could provide was forgotten. Unnecessary. A new surge of energy coursed through Rafael as he took the stairs rather than wait for a lift. Made him pick up his pace until he was almost running through the corridors in his theatre scrubs and plastic boots, earning startled glances from people who clearly thought he was on the way to an emergency.

It wasn’t until he was close to the open doors leading to the paediatric oncology ward that his pace faltered. Seeing Abbie standing in the corridor outside one of the private rooms felt like he’d just run into an invisible wall.

Twelve weeks since he’d seen her.

The woman he’d married. The love of his life. The mother of his child.

But the last time he’d seen her had been when she’d walked away from him, taking their child with her. When she’d refused to bend to his ultimatum and had chosen to go against his wishes, even if it meant the end of their marriage.

When his marriage had ended.

He’d been wrong to issue that ultimatum. Wrong to deny Ella the chance that the treatment had offered. He knew that and the knowledge was a knife that had twisted inside him for weeks now. Ever since the possibility of success had become apparent.

He also knew that Abbie had been through hell on the other side of the Atlantic and he hadn’t been there to support her. He’d made her do it alone because he couldn’t back down enough to find a way to apologise. Not through an email or text anyway, which had become the only way Abbie had wanted to communicate.

She must hate him for making her go through all that alone.

She hadn’t seen him yet. She was looking through the window of the room. Watching to make sure Ella was asleep, perhaps, so that she could go and take enough of a break to have a meal?

She’d lost weight.

The shapely curves of her body that had first caught his eye when they’d started working together at the Lighthouse had all but disappeared. Her jeans looked too big for her legs and even from this distance he could see how prominent her collarbones were above the scooped neck of her sweater. Even the thick tresses of her glorious, honey-blond hair looked as if they’d lost volume by the way they were lying in a subdued and limp ponytail against the top of her spine.

A spine that looked a little less straight than he remembered in the strong, independent woman he’d fallen in love with and married.

How hard had this all been?

Rafael could feel his heart breaking. His every instinct was to rush forward and gather Abbie into his arms. To hold her against his heart and whisper promises. That everything would be all right. That he would always love her. That he would never allow life to be so hard for her again.

But how could he? The distance between them couldn’t be resolved simply by him walking close enough to put his arms around her, and what if she pushed him away? His pride was already in tatters. Had been ever since she’d walked out on him. And, besides, there was only one of those promises that he could make with any certainty.

That he would always love her.

Would that be enough?

Maybe he was about to find out.

He never felt this nervous pushing open the doors to enter Theatre, even when he knew that the challenge was going to be huge.

His mouth never felt this dry.

It was hard to make his voice work. So hard that only a single word came out.

‘Abbie...’

CHAPTER TWO

‘ABBIE...’

She knew it was Rafael well before she turned to face him. It had always been unique, the way he said her name. It wasn’t just the Italian accent or the smooth, deep voice. It was the subtle note of...wonder, almost. Or reverence? As if she was the most wonderful woman on earth and that made her name special, too.

Unique. One of a kind. Like Rafe.

Abbie braced herself, as she turned, for the first sight of her husband in what suddenly seemed a vast amount of time.

Three months.

But, at this moment, it felt like three years.

What would she see in his face? The joy of knowing she’d brought his daughter back to him? Anger that had burned away to leave a residue of resentment?

Echoes of the unbearable pain she’d seen before she’d turned her back and defiantly taken Ella away from him?

When she had turned and found herself facing Rafael with only a few feet between them, Abbie had to brace herself all over again.

How could she have forgotten the effect this man had on her? It was so much more than purely physical. More than emotional, even. It was a visceral thing. She was facing the part of her own being that had been torn free.

It stole her breath away. Made her heart stammer and trip.

‘Rafe...’

Abbie tried to smile but it wasn’t going to happen. Her lips simply wouldn’t co-operate. She could only stare, drinking in this first glimpse, anxiously scanning his body and face to try and collect her impressions.

Dear Lord, but he looked so tired. As though he hadn’t slept well for weeks. As though he hadn’t even shaved for more than a day or two. He hadn’t had a haircut for a while either, and... Had he just come straight from his stint in Theatre? Black curls were flattened in places and still looked damp with sweat. Were his scrubs a size larger than he usually wore or had he lost weight?

Yes. He looked exhausted. And wary but not angry.

He looked...

Wonderful.

Tall and commanding and every bit as gorgeous as the first time she had laid eyes on him. Despite everything, Abbie could feel a curl of sensation deep in her abdomen as her body responded to being this close to him, but this overwhelming awareness wasn’t anything as simple as physical attraction.

They knew each other so well. On so many levels. They made up two halves of a whole.

They loved each other.

At least, they had.

If only Rafael would smile. Or step closer. Hold his arms open so that she could fall into an embrace that would magically erase the pain they’d caused each other and make everything all right again.

But he wasn’t moving. He seemed to be staring back at her with a mirror image of her intense scrutiny of him.

‘How are you, Abbie?’

‘I’m...’ The word ‘fine’ tried to form on her lips but it wasn’t true. Abbie didn’t feel fine at all. She felt overwhelmed and unsure. ‘I’m...okay. A bit tired. It’s been a big day.’

A big twelve weeks.

A traumatic journey that she’d had to take alone. Abbie swallowed hard as she felt the hurt coalesce into the shape of the painful rock inside her chest that she’d lived with for so long now. ‘And you? How are you, Rafe?’

‘I’m...also okay...I think.’ The familiar gesture as Rafael raked his hair with his fingers made the rock shift a little and sent a painful shaft through Abbie’s heart. He was as overwhelmed as she was with this reunion. Unsure of what to say. Or do. ‘I...wasn’t expecting this. It’s...’

‘Sudden, I know.’ This was weird. To feel the hurt this man had caused her and yet to feel so much compassion for him at the same time. ‘I would have let you know sooner but it...just happened.’

He didn’t believe her and Abbie could understand that. The possibility of sending Ella back to her home town to continue her recuperation had only been talked about in the last few days. She was still fragile. How much organisation had been needed to send a sick baby to another country?

‘They only started to make enquiries first thing this morning. And things just fell into place. There was space available on a flight and a bed here at the Lighthouse and they didn’t have to arrange a medical escort. And...when her results came through later, looking so good, Dr Goldstein just looked at me and smiled and he said...he said, “How ’bout it, Mom? Would you like to go home today?” And...’

And Abbie’s voice was shaking now. Could she tell him that the first thing she’d thought at that point had been how badly she’d wanted to see him again? That the picture in her head of Rafael holding his baby daughter again and seeing how much better she looked had filled her heart with so much longing that it had felt like it might burst?

No. She couldn’t tell him because he had started speaking himself. She had to stop saying anything. Rafael had to repeat his question.

‘What results? What were the tests?’

Did it matter? This was a doctor talking, not a father. Was he still that distant? This was what had caused their separation in the first place, wasn’t it? The way he could remove himself from the emotional involvement of being a parent. To step back and see the bigger picture through a professional lens. To decide that the quality of what would be a very short life was more important than the desperation to keep your own child alive as long as humanly possible.

‘They took a bone-marrow biopsy yesterday. And bloods. We already knew she’d got through the dangerous cytokine release syndrome that the treatment caused. What we didn’t know was whether the T cell therapy was really working.’

‘And...’ It looked as though Rafael was having to swallow a large lump in his throat, judging by the way the muscles in his jaw and neck were working. ‘It’s looking good?’

That was more like it. The doctor would want the exact figures. A copy of the test results, like the one Abbie had ready for him in her bag. But for a father? Knowing that the results were good would be enough to create such a wash of relief and hope for the future that the numbers were irrelevant.

Abbie nodded. It took a moment to trust her voice. ‘She still needs protection for her immune system and she’ll need another bone-marrow biopsy at the three-month mark but...’ She took a deep breath as she blinked back tears. ‘It’s looking good, Rafe. As good as I hoped it would. The treatment’s worked.’

* * *

As good as she’d hoped?

The choice of pronoun pushed him away. Just as Rafael had been about to pull Abbie into his arms so that they could celebrate this miraculous milestone together as Ella’s parents.

To rush into the room they were standing outside and see for himself that Ella wasn’t the critically ill baby she’d been the last time he’d seen her.

But it was true. He deserved to be dismissed as having been one of the hopeful parents. As soon as Abbie had heard about the experimental treatment that took T cells from the blood and reengineered them in a laboratory so that they could be put back into the body to find and kill the cancerous leukaemia cells, the hope had been born on her side.

All Rafael had been able to see had been how experimental the treatment was. That the success rates with adults had not been consistent and it had never been tried in a baby. That the risks were enormous and going through with the treatment would only cause so much more suffering that would probably still end in Ella’s death. And he’d been right. The new T cells had caused an illness that had come within a heartbeat of killing Ella. She’d hovered between life and death in a paediatric intensive-care unit for weeks.

And he should have been there but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to travel so far in order to watch his baby die. And, yes...even though it shamed him to admit it, part of what had kept him here had been that it seemed like a fitting punishment for Abbie for taking his beloved child away from him.

So much pain. On both sides.

What would Abbie do if he tried to take her in his arms right now? Push him away? Flinch?

He couldn’t bear it if that happened.

But somehow he had to try and find a way to bridge this awful gap between them.

‘It’s been so long, Abbie. So...hard...’

So hard. It had been a nightmare ever since their precious baby had hit the headlines at becoming one of the rare cases of ALL being diagnosed at such an early age. Gruelling months of chemotherapy that had failed to produce remission, let alone a cure. And having them both disappear from his life had only plunged him deeper into his personal hell, especially in the wake of the fights over whether it was the right thing to do.

Missing his wife every day but being so angry at the way she’d made things so much worse. Missing his child with an ache that had gone even deeper than his bones. Sleepless nights and days waiting for the phone call that would deliver the dreaded news that the battle had been lost. Days when a fierce focus on his work had been the only thing that had kept him sane.

He heard the way Abbie’s breath left her lungs in an incredulous huff. The pain he could see in her eyes hit him like a physical blow.

‘How would you know, Rafe? You weren’t there.’

Would they ever be able to get past this?

‘I’m here now.’ His voice sounded as raw as it felt. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

Abbie just stared at him for the longest time. He could see her lips tremble as her hands gripped the opposite arms, crossed over her breasts as if she was defending her heart.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t think it is.’ She took a ragged, inward breath. ‘We...needed you, Rafe. And you...you weren’t there.’

Dio, but this was hard. Did they have to go through it all again? Every impassioned fight? He’d never felt this tired in his life.

‘You know why.’

‘Yes.’ Abbie’s voice was tight. ‘I know why. But I still don’t understand. How could you not be there if you really love someone?’ There were tears on her face now but Rafael couldn’t move to brush them away. He’d lost the right to offer comfort because he’d caused the pain.

‘You weren’t there,’ Abbie said again. ‘For me or Ella. And...and it was awful, Rafe... You have no idea....’

‘That’s not true.’ He couldn’t help the hard edge that made the words clipped. But it seemed like they did have to go over the old ground just to get to a place where they could talk to each other again. ‘I have a very good idea. That’s why I didn’t want you to go. To put Ella through that.’

Flashes of pain from other, long-ago cases were never far away. Especially cases like little Freddie.... Years ago, now, but it was still an effort to push the memory of that particular little boy away. Rafael had started in paediatric oncology determined to beat death for those innocent children but he’d learned the hard way that there had to be limits. That fighting too hard could only make things worse for everyone involved. Including the surgeon. He’d had to leave the specialty in the end because the toll it had taken on him personally had been too great.

‘And if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here now. Ella wouldn’t still be alive.’

‘No...’ The word was a weary sigh.

This was also true. And suddenly nothing else mattered. Ella was still alive. She was in the room right beside him. He couldn’t stay out here a moment longer. Taking a step closer to the door brought him a step closer to Abbie, but she moved a little. And now Rafael could see through the window of the room.

He could see Ella.

Sitting in a cot and playing happily with a toy.

A toy he recognised. Called Ears. A soft pink rabbit with disproportionately long legs and ears. A silly toy he’d bought when she’d first been sick and been admitted here, which had fast become her ‘cuddly.’

Ella was holding Ears in one hand as she knelt in the cot and then pulled herself up using the side of the cot. He could see the nasal prongs supplying oxygen taped to her face and one arm was bandaged, keeping the IV line that went to the port beneath her collarbone safe from being tugged. It didn’t stop her getting to her feet, though.

Dio...she was strong enough to stand?

It didn’t stop Ears being dropped over the side of the cot either, but Ella didn’t burst into instant tears, like most children her age would. She just looked down at the floor and then up, perfectly confident that help would not be far away.

And then Rafael could really see her face for the first time. Those big, dark eyes were looking straight at him.

For a long, long moment they stared at each other. Rafael could remember the first time he’d held this baby and the overwhelming need to protect her. He could remember the feel of her downy skin. The smell of her when she’d been freshly bathed and fed. The sound of her voice when she’d been learning her own baby language.

But would she remember anything at all about him?

It seemed that she did. Her eyes got even bigger and those rosebud lips curled and curved into a smile. And Ella held up her little arms, which was enough to make her lose her balance and sit down on her padded bottom with a thump, but she was still smiling.

Still holding out her arms to her father.

And nothing else mattered.

Without even another glance at Abbie, Rafael rushed into the room.

* * *

Abbie stood and watched through the window.

It had been only a few minutes since she’d been doing exactly this, watching to see if Ella would be happy for a few minutes while she went to... What had she been going to do? Go to the bathroom? Make a coffee in the staffroom?

Whatever her intention had been, she’d forgotten it the moment she’d heard Rafael call her name and she’d had to brace herself for their reunion.

And now it was over.

They’d seen each other again. They’d talked.

But had anything been resolved?

If anything, Abbie felt more unsure than before.

Slow tears were leaking from her eyes and rolling down the side of her nose as she watched Rafael gather up his daughter into his arms and press his cheek against the top of her head. He had his eyes closed so he couldn’t see that she was watching. And...oh, God...did he have tears tracing the edge of his nose, too? No...Rafael would never cry. But if he ever did, his face would look exactly the way it did right now.

The love he had for his daughter was almost as palpable as the wall Abbie had to reach out and touch for support.

He’d never expected to be able to hold her again, had he?

Or to see her smile. To hear that noise she made when she was really happy—a kind of cross between cooing and giggling that sounded like water going out of a sink.

Being a plughole, they’d called it. Ella’s being a plughole, they’d tell each other and then they’d both hold each other’s gaze and smile because they knew it was such a happy noise and it had been such a rare thing amongst the pain and sickness. Those poignant smiles and the silent communication of eye contact had been moments of connection that had given them strength to go on. That had made them feel that sharing this heartbreaking journey was making their relationship stronger. But, in the end, like it did so often with this kind of unimaginable stress, it had torn them apart.

Yes. Rafael still adored his daughter. She could see him rocking her now and hear his voice as he spoke rapidly in Italian. She caught the word fiorella. Ella’s proper name. His little flower. And he was singing now. Softly. Still in Italian. Stroking the odd patches of wispy hair on Ella’s head so gently. It was one of the things she loved about this man, that he could be so passionate. So demonstrative.

And for a moment when he’d been out here with her, he’d looked as if he still loved her like that, too.

Just before he’d stupidly said how hard it had been for him.

He hadn’t been there. Hadn’t sat for countless hours amongst the bank of monitors in the intensive-care unit, wondering if each breath Ella took would be her last.

Maybe she shouldn’t have taken the bait and reignited the old conflict but...it still hurt, dammit.

It wasn’t going to just go away by itself.

Being together in the same place wasn’t enough because it felt like there was no common ground between them.

Or if there was, the only person inhabiting it was a baby called Ella.

CHAPTER THREE

‘I CAN’T BELIEVE you’re starting back at work so soon.’ Ella’s nurse for today, Melanie, was watching Abbie spoon morsels of breakfast into her daughter’s mouth. ‘You’ve only just set foot back in the country.’

‘I just want to get back to normal.’ Abbie’s smile was a bit of an effort. Getting Ella back to London had been a huge step closer to getting back to a normal life but she had no real idea what ‘normal’ was going to be from now on.

She caught an escaping dollop of porridge with the edge of the plastic spoon and waited until Ella opened her mouth so she could pop it back where it belonged. ‘And I’ve had far too much time away already,’ she added. ‘You know what they say, Mel. “Use it or lose it.”’

Melanie looked up from the drugs she was preparing for Ella’s syringe driver. ‘You won’t go straight back into full time, though, will you?’

Abbie’s headshake was swift. There was no way she could suddenly cope with that kind of punishing schedule—the long surgery hours at the Lighthouse, outpatient clinics, ward rounds and the travel time and consultations at the Hunter Clinic. A schedule that Rafael had apparently ramped up to an unthinkable level while she’d been away. No work–life balance there but she could understand escaping like that. And her own life had been just as one-sided. For a very long time.

‘I haven’t been genuinely full-time for ages,’ she said aloud. ‘We started scaling things down when I got to about six months pregnant and then things got even more disrupted after Ella was born, of course.’

Melanie’s nod was sympathetic. She clicked the syringe into the driver. ‘You must be missing your work, too. You don’t get to be as good as you are if you don’t really love what you’re doing. Are you in Theatre today?’

‘No. It’s just an outpatient clinic this morning. They’re easing me in gently.’

‘That’s good.’ Melanie was making an exaggerated happy face at Ella. ‘You done yet, chicken? Ready to have a wash and get dressed and face the day?’

Abbie wiped Ella’s face with a damp cloth. ‘I think we both are.’ With a final cuddle she handed Ella to Melanie. ‘Be good, sweetheart. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

Setting off to the Lighthouse’s outpatient department, she realised how nervous she was feeling. Maybe it was because she was out of her jeans for the first time in ages and wearing clothes more appropriate for her job. A neat blouse tucked into a long, swirly skirt that reached the top of her boots. An unbuttoned white coat as a jacket. The bright name badge that had a cute flower with a smiley face for a centre that told the world she was ‘Doctor Abbie.’

Or maybe it was because people would be bringing their precious children to her to have decisions made about potentially major surgery. She would have to weigh up the risks versus benefits for other people’s children when she was so acutely aware of how it felt to be a parent herself. What the repercussions of those risks might be.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, Abbie scolded herself. ‘It’s only an outpatient clinic. Hardly life or death.’

There was an expectation, however, that she would start again with the really high-pressure work as soon as possible and get up to reasonable speed so that she wouldn’t lose the skills that had won her such a prestigious position in the first place. The expectation wasn’t just coming from the Hunter brothers or the head of the paediatric surgical department at the Lighthouse Children’s Hospital.

It was coming from Abbie herself and that was why she’d told Ethan that she would start again so soon.

The passion that had led her into this career represented a part of herself that she had no intention of losing. First and foremost, it was who she was. Being a wife and a mother might be just as important but that part of her couldn’t survive in isolation. Not happily, anyway, and if she wasn’t happy she couldn’t do her best. Be her best.

This nervousness that made her stomach churn was very unfamiliar, though. Disconcerting. It was only an outpatient clinic she was heading for, she reminded herself again. One of her favourite parts of her job, where she could spend time with young patients and their families, either exploring the possible routes they could take to make a positive difference in their lives or checking up on progress and getting the satisfaction of seeing that difference.

Why was she so nervous?

Because she felt rusty from being away from the action for too long? Those kinds of nerves might be expected when she was back in Theatre with a scalpel in her hand but they would be welcome then because she’d know they would keep her focussed and would evaporate as her confidence returned.

This was different. This was the first time she would be working with Rafael since she’d accepted the ultimatum that meant their marriage was over. Would working together make things better or worse? Could it break through the polite distance they’d ended up in last night before Rafael had excused himself to do a post-operative check on his most recent patient?

Apparently not.

Rafael had arrived before Abbie and, against the background of a crowded waiting room, he was sorting files with the clinic’s nurse manager, Nicky. Like Abbie, he was wearing an unbuttoned white coat over his professional uniform of tidy trousers and a neat shirt and tie. He had a name badge on his pocket, too. Nothing as frivolous as a smiling flower, though. His was a far more dignified standard issue with the tiny lighthouse logo and his full name.

Abbie hadn’t even offered to get him a fun badge when she’d had her own made. She’d always known the limits to which his pride would let him bend.

Or she’d thought she’d known. Until it had come to the crunch.

Both Rafael and the nurse manager looked up as Abbie approached.

‘Abbie.’ Nicky’s smile was welcoming. ‘It’s so good to see you. I was delighted to hear that you’d be sharing the clinic this morning. I’ll bet your registrar was delighted as well.’

Rafael’s smile wasn’t nearly as welcoming as Nicky’s but at least it was a smile. One that was at odds with the wary look in his eyes. Surely Rafael wasn’t nervous about working with her again? No...

She’d never known him to be nervous about anything. Excited, certainly, like he’d been when they’d seen the stripes on the pregnancy test stick that had meant they were on the way to becoming parents. Fearful, maybe, like he’d been when they’d been waiting for those first test results to come back and explain why their newborn baby was failing to thrive in such a dramatic fashion. And angry, definitely, like he’d been when she’d refused to accept his decision that enough was enough when it came to putting Ella through any more misery.

But nervous? This was disconcerting. Abbie had to force herself to return Nicky’s smile of welcome.

‘I did hear that you’ve been incredibly busy. It’s lovely to see you, too, Nicky.’

‘And I hear that Ella’s doing well. That’s such good news.’

‘It certainly is.’ Abbie slid a sideways glance at Rafael but he seemed absorbed in the list of patients. He eased a set of patient notes out of a pile and put it to one side.

‘How long before you can take her home?’

Rafael’s head jerked up at this query and Abbie could feel the intensity of his glance and it felt...accusing? This wasn’t something they’d had a chance to talk about last night. How could they, when Abbie wasn’t even sure whether she had a home to take Ella back to?

‘Um...it’ll be a few weeks, I think. We need to see how things go. Certainly no decision will be made until she’s had her T cells checked at the three-month mark.’

Which gave them some breathing space at least. Time to sort out where they were as far as their marriage went. Or how they might share Ella’s parenting in the future.

The noise level in the waiting room was increasing. A scuffle had broken out near the toy box and more than one child was crying. A woman carrying a well-wrapped baby was standing near the door and looking as if she would prefer to turn around and go out again. Her partner was trying to persuade her to take a seat. Nicky surveyed the scene and squared her shoulders.

‘We’d better get this show on the road. I’ll get the first patients into the consulting rooms. I’ve put you in Room 3, Abbie.’

‘Cheers.’

As Nicky moved away, it felt as if Abbie and Rafael were almost alone, sandwiched between the waiting-room chaos and the rest of the staff, who were busy organising the rooms for the consultations and tests that were scheduled.

‘Hi...’ Abbie offered a smile. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ Rafael smiled back. Another polite smile. ‘And you? That chair in Ella’s room can’t be that comfortable to sleep in.’

‘I’m used to it. I’ve been sleeping in one of those chairs for so long now that a bed will probably feel weird.’

And there it was again. A slap in the face. A reminder of where she’d been for the last three months. An echo of the awkward moment last night when Rafael had asked if she would come home to sleep and she’d said that changing something that big in Ella’s routine was out of the question just yet.

‘How is she this morning?’

‘Good. She ate a little stewed apple and porridge for breakfast. It’s great that she already knows so many of the nurses on the ward. She’s got Melanie today and I don’t think she even noticed me leaving to come here.’

‘I’ll get up and see her as soon as we’ve finished here. I...wasn’t sure whether to disturb your early-morning routine.’

Keeping his distance? Abbie stifled a sigh. ‘She’s your daughter, Rafe. You can spend as much time with her as you want.’

His nod was almost curt. He reached for a pile of notes and slid them along the counter. ‘Here are your patients for this morning.’

It wasn’t rocket science to see that her pile was much smaller than his. Or that the names on the list had been divided far more equally. Abbie raised her eyebrows. Rafael shrugged.

‘I’ve added some cases to my list. It’s your first morning back, Abbie. I wanted to make things a little easier for you.’

Abbie stared at him. ‘If I didn’t think I could cope, I wouldn’t be here.’

The words came out a little more vehemently than she’d intended but it was bad enough feeling nervous about her own performance. She didn’t need other people doubting her abilities.

He mirrored her raised eyebrows and gave another one of those subtle shrugs that was part of what kept people so aware of his birthplace. As you wish, it said. It’s of no importance to me.

Except it had been of importance or he wouldn’t have done it. And it was a generous gesture when he probably had too much to do today anyway. Maybe she should compromise. Abbie scanned the list rapidly.

‘I’d like to keep this little girl.’ She tapped the list. ‘Grade-three microtia. That’s one of my favourite things to do.’

Rafael knew that. He’d been in Theatre with her more than once as she’d tackled the delicate surgery to create an ear from the birth deformity that had left nothing more than a peanut-shaped blob as an outer ear. Life-changing surgery for a child who was being teased at school, and this little girl was seven years old.

‘And this one...’ She pulled another set of notes from the pile. ‘Seven-month-old ready for repair of his cleft lip and palate. Oh...it’s Angus. I remember us seeing him for his first consultation. That’s another one I’d love to do...’

Her voice trailed away. The sometimes massive surgery needed to correct this kind of birth defect was a procedure that both she and Rafael were known to be exceptionally good at. Together. Rafael’s skill at shifting bones and moulding features in conjunction with her ability to join tiny blood vessels and nerves and then suture to leave almost invisible scars had made them a team that people came from all over the country to consult via the Hunter Clinic.

Would she want to do it by herself?

‘Maybe I’ll leave this one for you.’ Abbie couldn’t bring herself to look up at Rafael. ‘I’ll take Harriet back, though. I’ve been wondering how those burn scars are settling. She must be due for her next surgery.’

Rafael simply nodded, took the first set of notes from his pile and headed to the first consulting room. Abbie took her first set and went past his door to Room 3. Separate lists. Separate rooms. Separate operating theatres even? Was this how it was going to be from now on?

Even when they’d seen different patients in the past, they’d always been popping into each other’s rooms to get a second opinion or simply brainstorm a case. This felt wrong but it was also a relief. Perhaps they needed time to get used to working together again. Or maybe they actually needed to find out if they could work together when their personal lives were in such disarray. Being too close too soon could well mean that it would never happen.

There was no reason why they couldn’t define some professional boundaries and make it work. Was there?

Apparently there was. The message Abbie got later that day, asking her to attend a meeting at the Hunter Clinic, had all the undertones of a ‘Please explain.’

* * *

‘Urgent message, Mr de Luca.’

‘What is it, Nicole?’ The expression on the young woman’s face suggested that his secretary was anxious. She was right behind him as he kept moving into his office.

‘A meeting at the Hunter Clinic at five p.m. With Leo and Ethan Hunter. In Leo’s office. Gwen said she’s checked your calendar and you’re available, so...’

The sentence was left hanging but Nicole might as well have finished it. The unsaid words were that no excuses would be acceptable short of the direst emergency.

‘Did she say what it was about?’

‘No. Shall I order a cab for you?’

‘I suppose you’ll have to,’ Rafael growled. He didn’t have any consultations booked at the exclusive Hunter Clinic that he could think of so he had no idea why it was suddenly so important to meet with the Hunter brothers this afternoon, and if he did have a space on his calendar, he’d much rather be spending that time with Ella.

Now he’d barely have time to eat the sandwich he’d just bought on the run for a late lunch. He dropped the plastic triangular package on his desk, along with the other purchase he’d made in the gift shop beside the café.

‘Oh, what’s that?’ Nicole’s face lit up with a wide smile. ‘It’s gorgeous.’ She reached out to pick up the huge teddy bear that was wearing a sparkly pink tutu and had pink ballet shoes on its feet. She hugged the bear. ‘I love it. It’s so soft and squishy. And huge. It must be just as big as Ella is now.’

‘Almost.’ It wasn’t really a baby’s toy either, but his Fiorella was growing up, wasn’t she?

‘I heard she was back. And that she’s doing well. That’s wonderful, isn’t it?’

‘It certainly is.’

Nicole put the bear down with some reluctance. ‘She’ll want to be a dancer when she grows up after she sees this. Look at those cute ballet shoes. Oh...I would have loved something like this when I was a little girl.’

A little girl. Not a baby any more. Yes... He had been shocked by how much Ella had changed since he’d last seen her. It was mainly due to such an improvement in her condition but three months was a long time in a baby’s life. She had more teeth and her smile looked different. Her hands were so much cleverer and her baby babble was beginning to have the inflections of real speech. She could stand up and even walk if someone held her hands. She’d barely been able to sit unaided when he’d last seen her.

He’d missed so much and that added another painful layer to the guilt he already felt at having left Abbie to cope alone in New York.

Rafael tried to shake his swift train of thought. ‘Order the taxi for four-thirty,’ he instructed Nicole, picking up the bear and depositing it in a corner of the office. ‘I don’t want to get stuck in rush-hour traffic. Anything else urgent I should know about?’

‘No.’

‘Good. I’ll get on with my clinic notes, then.’

Except that the pink bear sitting in the corner kept catching his peripheral vision. Making him think of Ella.

And of Abbie.

Would she forgive him for leaving her to cope alone in New York like that? For sending her away with the threat that their marriage was finished? It wasn’t the time to push too hard right now. Not when she was exhausted and trying to get settled back into being in London. When she not only had Ella to care for but she was starting work again as well. He wanted to help but between Abbie and the wonderful staff on the paediatric oncology ward there was nothing he could do there. It hadn’t gone down very well when he’d tried to lighten Abbie’s workload at the outpatient clinic this morning either.

And she didn’t seem to be making any effort to close the distance between them. She hadn’t even followed him into the room when he’d rushed in to see Ella yesterday, and ever since then it had felt like she was enclosed in a bubble. There but not there.

It was frustrating.

So was fighting London traffic to get to the Hunter Clinic by 5:00 p.m. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he could have gone home after this meeting because home was in Primrose Hill, about halfway between the Lighthouse and Harley Street, where the Hunter Clinic was located. But he had to get back to the Lighthouse as soon as he could because he still had patients to see, including Anoosheh. Apparently she was running a slight temperature and there was concern about potential infection. His entire day had run a little behind schedule thanks to taking on extra outpatients to ease the load on Abbie this morning.

Rafael desperately wanted to spend time with Ella, too. As long as possible. He wanted to give her the bear and see if it made her smile. If it didn’t, he would have to go looking for something else. What did make her smile these days? What did she like best of all to eat? What songs did she like to have sung to her?

There was so much he needed to find out.

And home wasn’t really home any more, anyway, was it? It hadn’t been, from the moment Abbie had walked away from that final, dreadful row, when he’d told her that if she took Ella to New York, their marriage was over.

Oh, her clothes still hung in the wardrobe and her books were still in the bookshelves. It was still the same gorgeous period-conversion apartment that they’d both fallen in love with and purchased in the week before their wedding. It still had the same fabulous view towards the Regent’s Canal and the bonus of the private courtyard garden that boasted a tree.

A tree they’d put a baby’s swing in to celebrate the six-month mark of Abbie’s pregnancy. A swing that had never been used. It had collected leaves in autumn and been filled with snow in the winter. Now it just hung there, too bright for a garden that had yet to blossom for spring. A cruel reminder of what could have been.

All these things taunted Rafael now so he spent as little time as possible in the apartment. He couldn’t stay there if their marriage was truly over. Maybe Abbie would want to live there with Ella. So that she could use the swing...

‘This is fine.’ Rafael rapped on the glass partition to alert the cab driver. ‘I can walk from here.’

Giving the driver a generous tip, Rafael took his briefcase and umbrella and strode down Harley Street, his long coat flapping. He should button it up to protect his suit because the leaden sky looked as if it could open at any moment but he was in too much of a hurry. The usual reverence the old buildings in this street instilled was gone, too. He didn’t even glance at any of the brass plaques that advertised the famous medical people who had once worked in these fabulous old buildings.

The facade of the Hunter Clinic, at 200 Harley Street, blended seamlessly with its historic neighbours but the interior made it look more like an exclusive hotel than a clinic. The heels of his Italian shoes tapped on a polished marble floor as Rafael marched through the huge reception area, past the inviting white sofas bathed in soft light from the table lamps beside them.

Only Helen, the senior receptionist, was on duty at the moment. In her late forties, Helen was always immaculately groomed and conveyed just the sort of welcome the clinic wanted. Capable, calm and compassionate. Weren’t those words in the clinic’s mission statement somewhere?

‘Mr de Luca.’ Helen’s smile held no disapproval of the fact that he was nearly ten minutes late. ‘How lovely that you could make it. They’re all ready for you in Leo’s office.’

Leo’s office? They were all ready for him?

What the hell was going on here?

Leo was the older of the two brothers—sons of the celebrated plastic surgeon, James Hunter. Rafael had never delved too deeply into the scandal that had surrounded James’s death. He only knew that it was through the tireless efforts of Leo that the clinic had survived and the cloud had been lifted from the Hunter name. He also knew that a huge rift had appeared between the brothers when Ethan had joined the army and left Leo to fight alone to save the clinic, but that was in the past, wasn’t it?

Ethan was back. And Leo had finally settled for one woman.

These were happier times for the Hunter brothers. So why weren’t they looking happy right now?

And what, in nome di dio, was Abbie doing here?

She looked pale. Frightened, almost. Rafael hadn’t seen her look like this since that terrible time when they had been waiting for the first results to find out what was wrong with their tiny baby. What had Leo and Ethan said or done to make her look like this now?

How dared they?

The need to protect Abbie was sudden and fierce. Rafael dropped his briefcase and umbrella on the nearest chair but he didn’t sit down. He didn’t take his coat off. Instead, he stepped behind Abbie’s chair and gripped the back of the seat.

‘What’s going on?’ he snapped.

Had they fired her? Because she couldn’t give the kind of focussed dedication to her job that she’d been known for before she’d become a mother?

Before she’d become his wife?

Surely not. Everyone here at the clinic, especially these brothers, had done all they could to support the de Luca family through the crisis. They’d given Abbie unlimited paid leave. Helped enormously with the logistical details and appalling expenses that Ella’s treatment in the States had engendered.

He shouldn’t have let them be so involved. This was his family.

He would look after them.

No matter if Abbie had been fired. He could support them. All of them. He would protect them. With his life, if necessary.

The Hunter brothers exchanged a glance. It was Leo who spoke.

‘Sit down, Rafael. Take your coat off for a minute. This won’t take long.’

‘I do not want to sit down.’ The anger was building rapidly. ‘I want to know what you’ve said to my wife to make her look so upset.’

He heard Abbie’s sharp intake of breath at his tone. Or was it the way he’d referred to her as his ‘wife’—as if she were some kind of possession?

Rafael closed his eyes and took a deep, inward breath as he deliberately dialled down his anger. Whatever was going on, becoming too passionate about it would only make things worse. Hadn’t he learned that lesson already?

Towering over everybody else in this room wasn’t going to help anything either.

Opening his eyes again, Rafael inclined his head in acquiescence that something clearly needed to be dealt with and he moved to lower his body into the empty seat beside Abbie.

He took a sideways glance at her, still concerned by how pale she looked, but Abbie was staring down at her hands. He wanted her to look at him so that he could send her a silent message that everything would be all right. He would deal with whatever it was that had prompted their summons into this office.

There was a beat of silence in the room and then Ethan cleared his throat.

‘We asked you both to come in this afternoon,’ he said into the silence, ‘because an issue has been brought to our attention that we thought needed urgent resolution. A complaint has been made—’

‘Che cosa?’ Rafael’s gaze jerked to meet Ethan’s. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘It’s not a complaint, exactly.’ Leo flicked an unreadable glance at his brother. ‘I would phrase it more as an expression of disappointment that a client feels strongly enough about to bring it to our attention.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Rafael snapped. ‘Is someone unhappy with my work? And why is Abbie here?’ The speed of his speech was increasing. So was the volume. ‘Nobody could have complained about her work because she hasn’t even been in the country for three months.’ Rafael shook his head in frustration and tried to calm down again. ‘Or is that what this “disappointment” is about? The fact that we have had to deal with a family crisis that has disrupted our ability to work?’

Again the brothers exchanged a meaningful glance.

‘You could say that,’ Leo said. ‘Sort of.’

‘Spit it out, man,’ Rafael growled. ‘I’m hoping to have enough time after my work to visit my daughter before she’s asleep for the night.’

‘Of course.’ Leo turned to smile at Abbie. ‘And can I just say again how wonderful it is to have you and Ella back? Especially when you’ve come back with such a great result.’

‘Thanks, Leo.’ Abbie’s nod was stiff. She caught Rafael’s gaze briefly then and he could see that she was just as mystified as he was by the reason for this meeting.

Ethan took his cue from Leo’s nod. He looked directly at Rafael, who had the strange impression that a game of ‘good cop, bad cop’ was going on here. And Ethan had been designated ‘bad cop.’

‘I believe you saw the MacDonald family at your outpatient clinic this morning? With their seven-month-old son, Angus, who’s now ready for admission for repair of his bilateral cleft lip and palate?’

‘That is correct.’ Rafael frowned. What on earth had the MacDonalds found to complain about? ‘They seemed perfectly happy to know how well the stretching and reshaping of the tissues has been with the taping and use of the retainer. He’s a good candidate for a single initial surgery to repair the defects in both his lip and palate.’

‘He’ll still need further surgery for cosmetic improvements, though.’ It was Abbie who spoke.

It was Abbie who’d first seen Angus back when the newborn had been brought down from Scotland by his distressed parents. She’d immediately called Rafael to share the consultation and reassure them that they would be able to achieve an almost perfect result for their son.

He nodded. ‘You can deal with that further down the track. And I’ll do the gum repair later. When Angus is around seven years old.’

Ethan had listened to the exchange and was shaking his head. Rafael glared at him. ‘The MacDonalds were delighted to know that their son can be admitted for the surgery as early as the end of the week. What is the problem here?’

‘The MacDonalds came to the Hunter Clinic for a private consultation within weeks of Angus being born,’ Ethan said. ‘Do you know why they chose us out of all the places they could have taken their baby for surgery after they’d decided they didn’t want to go on a National Health waiting list?’

‘We treat a lot of these types of cases,’ Rafael responded. ‘Our reputation is very good.’

‘No.’ It was Leo who was shaking his head this time. ‘Our reputation for dealing with this particular birth defect is the best. And you know why?’

Rafael met his gaze squarely. ‘My background in craniofacial surgery for paediatric oncology patients gave me a very good training that has easily transferred to birth defects.’ He shrugged, still puzzled. ‘I’m good at what I do.’

Repair of this kind of deformity that was so distressing to parents wasn’t just about the reshaping of bones and tissues, though, was it? How good the final result was was largely dependent on the skill of the plastic surgeon involved in the finer, external work.

‘And Abbie’s very good at what she does,’ he added. ‘The best, in fact.’

‘Exactly.’ Leo and Ethan exchanged a satisfied glance this time. ‘And therein lies our issue.’

Rafael raised an eyebrow.

‘You saw the MacDonalds this morning.’

‘Yes. You know this already.’

‘But Abbie didn’t see them. We understand that the case had been on her list, with a note to share the consultation with you. But you...ah...rearranged the lists this morning.’

‘Only so that Abbie wasn’t overwhelmed with work on her first day back.’

‘You also told the MacDonalds that you would be performing the whole surgery. Alone. That Abbie would not be available to work with you on the case.’

‘Ah...’ Rafael could feel Abbie’s stare. She wasn’t happy. But it had been her choice to let him shift the case onto his list this morning. Women! Dio... The way their minds worked was an unfathomable mystery sometimes.

‘The MacDonalds came to the Hunter Clinic because of the reputation that both of you have in dealing with a case like theirs. The emphasis here is on both of you. They’d heard about the Hunter Clinic’s “dream team.” Now they’re feeling...cheated.’

‘Look...’ Leo sounded uncomfortable. ‘We’re well aware of your personal issues but whatever problems you have need to be put aside in working hours for the benefit of the clinic, not to mention the benefit of our clients.’

‘There’s a waiting list of elective cases like this,’ Ethan added swiftly. ‘And an even longer list of potential charity cases. This is an incredibly common birth defect.’

‘We can’t support this separation at a professional level,’ Leo put in. ‘You have to be able to work together.’

‘We were working together,’ Abbie said. ‘This morning. And, yes, Rafe did take the MacDonald case off my list but I had the choice. I could have kept it.’

‘You’re missing the point,’ said Ethan. ‘It’s not a case of who gets who. Even a few minutes ago you were both talking about future surgery that Angus would need like it was some kind of “pass the parcel” game. That might be all very well with elective cases but what’s going to happen with an acute case? An emergency? Are you two going to be squabbling in a corner because you’re not professional enough to work on the same case? In the same theatre? Together?’

‘No.’ Abbie’s voice sounded strangled.

‘Of course not.’ Rafael was insulted. ‘That suggestion is ridicolo...’

‘You were a tight team,’ Leo said quietly. ‘The best. We want that back.’

‘Everybody knows how tough it’s been,’ Ethan said. ‘And we’ve all done our best to help but the worst is over now and the kind of disruption we’ve seen today can’t be allowed to happen again.’ He shook his head. ‘If word gets out that you two are not happy working together, it will cause untold damage to our reputation and we’re not going to allow that to happen.’

Leo sighed. ‘If it continues, we might all have to rethink whether you can continue in your current employment.’ He eyed Abbie. ‘You’ve been a full-time mother for months now. If that’s more important to you than your career then we’ll find a way to work around it, but you need to be up front with us.’

‘I am being up front with you.’ Abbie’s voice was shaky. ‘And I’ve never considered choosing to give up my work. My daughter is the most important person in the world to me but I know how brilliant the childcare system at the Lighthouse is. We’d always planned to juggle our careers and family life to allow us to both continue working.’

Rafael felt something tighten inside his chest. He remembered those planning sessions. Lying on the bed beside Abbie, admiring the increasing size of her belly. Keeping his hand resting lightly on her skin so that he could marvel at the movement he could feel beneath it. Imagining them both collecting their baby from the crèche and taking her home for family time.

Life had been so perfect back then. So full of exciting dreams for the future.

How had it all turned to dust? He wanted it back. All of it.

But Abbie wasn’t even looking in his direction again now. She was facing her employers here at the clinic. Fighting for her career.

‘Then the issue is simply whether you can continue working together.’ Both Ethan and Leo shifted their gaze from Abbie to Rafael. Abbie also turned to look at him.

‘I can,’ she said.

There was determination in her eyes. And something more.

Hope that this could be a way through the enormous barrier that still lay between them?

Or was that wishful thinking on his part?

Whatever. It was a first step.

Rafael smiled. ‘So can I,’ he said. ‘I look forward to the privilege of working with you again, Abbie.’

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE HADN’T EXPECTED THIS.

She’d been in perfect agreement with Leo and Ethan during that meeting this afternoon. Okay, she was partly to blame because she’d consciously chosen to let Rafael see the MacDonalds as part of his outpatient list but he’d had no right to push her out of being involved with Angus MacDonald’s first surgery. He’d actually told them she was unavailable?

Abbie scrubbed harder. It had been a long time since she’d been through this routine and her skin wasn’t liking the stiff bristles of the soap-impregnated brush. It stung as she spread her fingers and scrubbed between them and then moved on to the backs of her hands and the insides of her wrists but she didn’t lighten the pressure. The physical pain was an echo of the simmering anger she was prodding.

Rafael had been unprofessional. What had stopped him from popping his head into her office and just asking whether she wanted to be involved? He hadn’t needed to, though, had he? She’d already told him that it was another case she’d love to do.

Being pushed out like that was also confusing. And hurtful.

Wasn’t he the one who was so good at maintaining a professional distance that he could put his own emotions aside to make life and death decisions for his own daughter?

Why didn’t that automatically apply to his wife?

Because he hated her that much now? So much that his desire to avoid working closely with her was enough to make cracks appear in that ability to distance himself?

So much for thinking that they might be able to repair their marriage.

It was proving difficult enough to repair a professional relationship.

Not that others seemed to see that. The nurse who was waiting with a sterile towel held in a pair of tongs was smiling.

‘It’s so good that you and Mr de Luca are going to be working together again. Everybody’s really excited about it.’

Not everybody, Abbie thought grimly. But she smiled back as she took the towel to dry her hands.

‘It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?’

‘It’s never quite the same without you. Nobody else can work with Mr de Luca like you can. He gets quite cross sometimes.’

Abbie’s eyebrows rose as she pulled on her gown and then turned so that the nurse could tie it.

It made her feel a little better to know that no one else could partner Rafael in Theatre as well as she could but it wasn’t really a surprise, was it?

Their professional relationship had been astonishingly good from the moment they’d first shared an operating theatre together nearly two years ago.

Had any two surgeons ever clicked like that from the get-go? Complemented each other so perfectly it was as if one surgeon had suddenly doubled their skill set. And not only that. They worked in such a similar way that they could anticipate what the other was thinking or about to do. A silent form of communication and co-operation that had quickly become a talking point in their professional circle.

They’d been dubbed the ‘dream team.’

And they’d loved that.

But that had been then. The nurse’s comment had been a boost but she’d disappeared with an armful of dirty linen back into the changing rooms, and without her enthusiastic support the thought of working side by side with Rafael in Theatre was enough to make Abbie’s heart race and her mouth feel dry.

‘Get a grip,’ she ordered herself sternly, as she pulled on a pair of gloves.

She’d faced far harder things than this in the last few months. She’d had to make decisions and take actions with nothing more than her instinct to guide her at some points. And she’d had to do it firmly and swiftly. Because she’d had to do it alone.

So she could handle this.

Even if she hadn’t expected a challenge like this to appear so fast after Ethan’s edict that they work together—or face the consequences.

It was only 11:00 p.m. on the same day, for heaven’s sake.

A child had been brought in by helicopter for emergency surgery. Unrestrained, the six-year-old had been ejected from a car in a smash. She had multiple injuries, including two broken arms and major facial trauma.

She needed the best surgeons the Lighthouse had to offer.

Abbie was one of them, so that she could deal with the initial repair of the facial tissues and skin in the hope of a result that wouldn’t be too disfiguring in the future.

Rafael was the other surgeon and he would be able to handle anything that Abbie couldn’t. Thanks to his experience as a general paediatric surgeon before he’d specialised first in oncology and then in reconstructive surgery, there was nothing that could happen in an operating theatre that he couldn’t manage, at least in an emergency situation.

Knowing that had always made her feel safe.

Confident.

All she needed to do now was to tap back into that background confidence. And remind herself of just what she’d achieved with Ella’s treatment without that umbrella Rafael could provide.

She could do this. Even if Rafael didn’t really want her in there.

Taking a deep breath and pressing her lips together in a grimly determined line, Abbie crossed her arms in front of her body and turned so that she could use her back to bump open the swinging doors that led into the brightly lit operating room.

* * *

Rafael saw Abbie enter the theatre from the scrub room, holding her gloved hands crossed in front of her body, with only her eyes visible between the bottom of her hat and the top of her mask. He watched only until her gaze met his. He held the eye contact for a heartbeat and then nodded once, turning back to the task ahead. It was a simple gesture but one that had become significant to them both in the past. It conveyed satisfaction. Gratitude. Confidence. There was a difficult job to be done. He needed her to be here. She had arrived.

Things were as good as they could be for the moment.

Had he really thought it would be better if they tried to keep their professional lives as separate as their personal lives had become? At least until things had settled down? Thank goodness Ethan and Leo had taken them both to task and made it a professional duty to start working closely together again or it could have been a very long time before he’d had the bonus of having Abbie by his side like this again.

And he did need her. Rafael had been shocked when he’d met the helicopter crew in the emergency department as they’d transferred the care of little Lucy to his team. She’d been stabilised as far as possible in the rural area where the accident had occurred but there were bigger challenges ahead. The first had been dealt with in the emergency department with the help of a specialist paediatric anaesthetist. Securing a definitive airway had been extremely difficult due to the level of facial trauma but at least it had given him time to get used to the horrific injuries. He just wished he’d had more time to warn Abbie before she arrived in Theatre.

‘Oh, my God...’ He could hear the way Abbie’s breath caught in her throat as she whispered her first reaction.

‘It’s actually not as bad as it looks,’ he told her quietly. ‘The jaw’s broken in three places and she’s lost several teeth. Cheekbones are both fractured and displaced. As is the nose. One ear has been partially amputated but there’s no skull fracture or brain haemorrhage. And I think her eyes are okay. It will be easier to see what other damage there is when we get these parts of her face back where they should be. It’s the soft-tissue damage that’s making things look so bad. The scans are up over there if you want to have a look.’

‘Is there a photograph available?’ Abbie’s initial shock had worn off commendably fast. ‘Of what she used to look like?’

‘Yes. The grandmother emailed one through. It’s been printed out and is beside the viewing screens.’

‘Thanks.’ Still holding her crossed arms carefully in front of her to avoid any potential contamination and need to rescrub, Abbie moved to examine the images of both the damage and what the little girl’s face should look like. It was several minutes before she came back to the table but that was fine. Rafael had a lot of work to do before there would be an area ready for Abbie’s delicate touch in repairing delicate vessels and skin tears.

And he needed to concentrate. It wasn’t easy, trying to manoeuvre tiny titanium rings into position to try and fix fractured bones back together.

‘What’s been said about her arms?’

‘Colles’ fracture on the left. Spiral fracture of the radius and ulna on the right. Looks like she put her arms out to break the fall and then hit the ground face first. Not pretty but it may have saved her from a bad head injury or internal damage.’

‘What’s been done for them?’

‘The arms?’ Rafael didn’t need this distraction. ‘Just support with back slabs until orthopaedics can come in. It’s well down the list of priorities.’

‘Do we have the X-rays?’

‘They’re on digital file. Why?’ Rafael needed Abbie to focus on what was more of a concern right now—putting this little’s girl’s face back together.

‘Look at this.’

‘I can’t.’ Rafael was waiting for his senior theatre nurse to suck blood away so that he could see where to place the ring he was holding in his forceps. ‘I could use some help here, Abbie.’

But Abbie ignored him. ‘Scalpel, thanks,’ she ordered a registrar. ‘And someone throw some antiseptic on this arm.’

Rafael gave up on the ring and looked up, incredulous. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Opening this arm.’ Sure enough, Abbie waited only until a nurse had hurriedly swabbed the skin of a small forearm and then she was slicing into it with her scalpel. Rafael’s jaw dropped. He’d never seen her act like this.

Ever.

Seconds later, Abbie dropped the scalpel, having left a long, deep incision in the small arm. She reached for the hand still lying on the table and pressed one of the small fingernails.

‘Capillary refill’s slow but at least it’s there now.’

‘It wasn’t there before?’ Rafael was frowning now. This was the child’s right hand, which many might consider even more important to her future quality of life than how her face looked. Had there been a major problem with circulation that had been missed due to his focus on her face? Yes. He could see the unhealthy dark colour the fingers still had. How puffy they were.

‘You can still see the swelling in her arm. The fingers were cold and blue. There was no radial pulse.’

‘Compartment syndrome...’ Rafael took a deep breath. That was why Abbie had incised the muscle casing so decisively. If she hadn’t, the result could have been catastrophic. Lucy might have lost her whole hand, let alone the efficient use of it. ‘Thank goodness you noticed.’

‘If it had started when she was conscious, the pain level would have alerted someone.’ Abbie’s gaze was in no way accusing. ‘It’s just lucky I came in late and wanted an overall picture before getting focussed.’

Rafael could only nod. This was not the time or place to tell Abbie that he was proud of her picking up on the complication. And taking control without waiting for his opinion.

Getting that overall impression was a characteristic that Abbie had much more noticeably than he did these days. She was always fastidious in gathering every piece of information she could about a case. Looking at a bigger picture that included things like family circumstances and relationships. A way of looking at a case that invariably led to the kind of emotional involvement in a patient that he preferred to avoid when possible. That was why they’d always made such a good team. Two halves of an amazing whole. The ‘dream team,’ as Ethan had reminded them only today.

But hadn’t he always been the unspoken leader of that team?

No longer, by the look of things. Abbie had changed since the last time they’d worked like this together. She’d become more decisive. More authoritative. More...independent? In here, that was a good thing. It would give him a partner he would enjoy working with even more. Out of here? That was another matter entirely. Persuading Abbie to forgive him and give their marriage another chance might be an uphill battle.

‘Call Orthopaedics,’ she was instructing a nurse. ‘We’ll need them here sooner rather than later. And someone find a dressing to cover this wound in the meantime, please.’ She stepped around the table to stand beside Rafael.

So close that their shoulders were touching.

‘Now...’ Abbie was peering into the area Rafael was working on to align the small jaw again. ‘Can I start debriding the cheek tissue? I’d like to get an idea of how much skin we’ve got left to work with. I suspect we’re going to need some grafts.’

Rafael absorbed the feeling of having her this close. He could hear the calm confidence with which she was now assessing the work she had come here to do. Suddenly it was easy to push anything personal and negative into a space that had no relevance in here. He knew without any doubt that within minutes he and Abbie would be working together seamlessly. The way they always had. His own confidence soared. They could do this. Between them they would get the foundation work done that would end up with little Lucy looking as close to the way she’d looked before the accident as was humanly possible.

He hadn’t felt this inspired—this happy in his work—since...well, since Abbie had left.

How had he not realised how much he’d missed this?

Because he had isolated himself emotionally from his work so effectively?

The way he’d isolated himself from his wife and daughter?

That was in the past. He’d learned his lesson. With the resolution that things were going to change from now on, Rafael didn’t dismiss the pleasure of having Abbie working beside him. Instead, he channelled it into making sure he did the best work he was capable of.

* * *

Talk about diving into the deep end.

Six hours later, Abbie all but staggered into the changing room where she’d stored her clothes in her old locker. The one beside Rafe’s.

She headed for the closest shower, which offered a private area that included a slatted wooden bench seat beneath a hook on which to hang her dry clothes. Having hung what she would change back into on the hook, however, Abbie didn’t immediately close the door or turn on the shower to let the water get hot. Instead, she sank down on the wooden seat and closed her eyes for a moment.

Everything ached. Her back and feet seemed to have totally forgotten their ability to stand in one spot for so long without major discomfort. She had cramp in her fingers from the fierce control she had exerted to make every one of the countless sutures she’d made as perfect as possible. Her eyes felt gritty, with a fatigue that was numbing her mind and making it impossible to think of anything but finding the energy to get up and turn on that shower.

And yet Abbie was smiling as she rolled her head in a slow circle, trying to get the painful kinks out of her neck.

How good had that been?

Challenging. Intense. But so satisfying. She hadn’t hidden her skills beneath a deep layer of rust like she’d feared. Even better, she and Rafael had worked together just as they always had. There’d even been at least one of those magic moments when that complete harmony had kicked in and it had felt like it was one surgeon who happened to have four hands.

Finally, Abbie found the strength to stand up and turn on the hot water. She knew it would take at least a minute to heat up, unless they’d made some big improvements in the plumbing while she’d been away, so she stood there waiting and tried rolling her head again because there was one particularly painful spot between her shoulder blades.

‘Sore neck?’

The query was accompanied by the metallic scrape of a locker door opening. Rafael must be feeling every bit as exhausted as she was. They’d both gone to Recovery with their small patient to watch over her as her level of consciousness lifted but Rafe had stayed longer, wanting to adjust the level of sedation they would keep her under.

Something stopped Abbie turning around. They had just spent a considerable period of time working so well together. Was it that she didn’t want to spoil that by finding that he was avoiding eye contact, perhaps? Or that she might see resentment that would confirm he’d only sent for her because Leo and Ethan had hauled them over the coals about not working together?

She put her hand under the stream of water to check the temperature and to excuse her not turning around. ‘How’s Lucy doing?’

‘Very well. When I’ve had a quick shower, I’ll find her grandmother and take her to visit Lucy in Recovery.’

His voice was getting louder with every word. Good grief, had he stepped into this shower cubicle with her? Abbie tensed, ready to turn, but then froze. Apart from the sound of the running water, there was an odd stillness. Maybe Rafe had just gone past the open door to get a towel or something. She might turn and he would be nowhere to be seen and even in the split second when she imagined that possibility, she could also feel the thud of disappointment it would create. But, even as that flitted through her brain, she felt the touch of his hands on her shoulders. His thumbs digging into her spine as they made small circles over her knotted muscles. He knew exactly where that sharp ache tended to settle, didn’t he?

‘Oh...’ Abbie let her head droop. ‘That feels amazing...’

It was by no means the first time she’d been treated to a neck massage after a tough stint in Theatre so it was no surprise he could do it so well. It was, however, the last thing Abbie had expected right now.

What was happening here? The magic she’d wanted when she’d first seen Rafael again and had imagined an embrace that could wipe all out all the grief they’d given each other?

Certainly the sensations Rafael’s fingers were conjuring up were enough to wipe out rational thought. Like worrying about any hot water that was being wasted. Tendrils of a pleasure-pain mix were shooting down her spine and arcing right through her body.

But it was just a neck massage. If they hadn’t happened to be standing in a shower cubicle it was something that could be perfectly acceptable between any colleagues who were friends and understood the aftermath of the physical challenge they’d just shared. If she started thinking it was intended to be intimate she could well be lining herself up for disappointment.

‘Thanks.’ Abbie’s movement was subtle but the touch of Rafael’s hand vanished instantly. She could feel him taking a step back even as she turned her head to smile at him.

‘We did it,’ she said.

‘Indeed.’ Rafael had one hand on the door. He raised his other hand to rub his own neck. ‘I’m sure Ethan and Leo will be delighted to hear how well we managed to work together.’

Oh, yes...that disappointment had only been waiting to hit Abbie hard enough to make her lose her emotional footing.

‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ she muttered.

Rafael leaned closer to hear her. Was it intentional that the movement pushed the door closed behind him? ‘What did you mean?’

‘That we put Lucy back together. I...I think she’s going to get a good result.’ Sudden, unwelcome tears stung the back of her eyes. Abbie turned them towards the shower so that Rafael wouldn’t see. There was steam billowing out over the top of the curtain now. At least she’d be able to have a good cry when she was under that stream of water. She needed Rafe to go away. Now.

But he didn’t. ‘We certainly did,’ he said. ‘And what’s more, you probably saved her hand, Abbie. Well done, you.’

The praise was sweet. So sweet that Abbie couldn’t hold back the tears now. She had to swipe at them with her hand.

‘Oh...Abbie...cara...’

Rafe was turning her to face him. Tilting her face up with gentle pressure under her chin. The warmth of the steam around them had nothing on what was sparking between them and had it dampened the oxygen level as well? Abbie’s lips parted as she tried to find a new breath.

The caring tone of the endearment Rafael had used still hung between them and it made the flicker of desire in his eyes totally irresistible. Abbie couldn’t look away. Her fatigue was forgotten as her body strained towards his, her mind willing him to touch her. To kiss her.

She had no idea who moved first, and what did it matter?

This was no gentle reunion kind of kiss. It was how Abbie had dreamed it might be. An incandescent moment that would burn everything else into oblivion. A leap straight back into the fierce passion they had discovered the first time they’d touched each other. A passion that had only grown more powerful the more they’d learned about each other’s bodies.

He knew exactly what took her over the edge. The slide of his tongue against the inside of her lip and the way it tangled with the very tip of hers. The slide of his hands inside her clothing and the way those strong hands cupped her buttocks and pulled her against that hardness she knew so well. Wanted so badly...

But somehow it didn’t feel right. Maybe it was becoming aware of the splash of water beside them and remembering where they were and how inappropriate this was.

Or...maybe it was something much bigger than that.

In the same way that she had seen the massage as being nothing more than a physical action, a part of Abbie’s brain could see that this was only sex.

Passionate, exciting, mind-blowing sex certainly. The kind that had sealed their initial relationship and had led to Ella’s conception and had had them rushing headlong into marriage and a lifetime commitment, in fact. A kind that had been enough to keep them sane during the terrible times they’d been through in the course of Ella’s illness but, at the end of the day, it was just that. Sex.

And perhaps that wasn’t enough any more and that was what didn’t feel right.

It was Abbie whose hands stopped moving and touching. Whose lips stilled. Who wriggled free of the intimate contact of their lower bodies.

‘We can’t do this,’ she gasped.

Rafael’s gaze slid towards the shower and he sighed. ‘Come home with me, then.’

‘No.’ Abbie shook her head. ‘I don’t just mean we can’t do it here.’

There was bewilderment in his gaze now. He had no idea why Abbie had pulled away.

‘Can’t you see? It’s not going to solve anything, Rafe.’

He still didn’t understand. And he didn’t believe her. He thought he was being rejected and at the flicker of pain—anger, even—Abbie’s heart sank. She was doing it again, wasn’t she? Attacking his pride. The surest route to strengthening the barrier between them instead of starting to dismantle it.

But she could also see the internal struggle going on. The effort he was making.

His voice was raw. ‘Then what is going to solve it, Abbie? Tell me.’

There was nothing Abbie wanted more than to tell him.

If only she knew.

Rafael waited for a heartbeat. And then another. And then, muttering something in Italian that was probably a curse, he turned and left.

A second later, Abbie heard the bang of a locker door. And then the thump of the changing-room doors being pushed open. Rafael was going somewhere else to shower and who could blame him?

What had she done?

Blown the best chance she could have had to reconnect with the man she loved?

The fatigue came back in a wave that made it unbelievably hard to get on with what she had to do. The feel of her own hands on her skin as she pulled off the scrubs only reminded Abbie of the touch of Rafael’s hands and made her feel worse.

What had she been thinking?

* * *

There was very little traffic around at this time of day, which was just as well because Rafael wasn’t paying much attention as he gunned his car in the direction of the only safe place he could think of. His home.

Abbie didn’t want him.

Her body did, that much had been obvious, but her heart didn’t and that was what mattered.

How the hell could he let her know how much he still loved her if he wasn’t allowed to touch her? To let his body say the things that were too hard to put into words?

She was being unfair. Shutting them both out of the one area of their relationship they’d never had any problems with. Making sure the spotlight was shining onto the battleground that the rest of their relationship had become.

Why?

The slap of his open hand on the steering-wheel was hard enough to be painful but it didn’t shut up the annoying voice in the back of his head. Beneath the burning frustration and the simmering anger it was still there—the faint but insistent message that suggested Abbie was right. That reconnecting sexually would only push the destructive differences under a carpet. That it wouldn’t solve anything.

But she couldn’t even tell him what would.

The way he slammed the car door shut probably woke up several neighbours but Rafael didn’t care.

Maybe neither of them knew.

Because the solution didn’t exist.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘MUM-MUM-MUM...’

Ella was standing in her cot and she flung her arms into the air when her mother entered the room.

‘Hey, baby girl...’ Abbie reached into the cot and gathered Ella into her arms, careful as always not to tangle the IV line. ‘How are you? I’ve hardly seen you all day and I’ve missed you so much.’

‘Mum-mum-mum...’ Ella’s tiny hands were busy, touching Abbie’s hair and then her face. And then she rubbed her nose on Abbie’s collarbone and made a grizzling sound. Abbie’s gaze flew to Melanie, the nurse who was moving to straighten the cot.

‘She’s just hungry. I was waiting to give her her bottle in case you made it back in time. I’ll go and heat it up now.’

‘Thanks, Mel. So she’s been okay today?’

‘Good as gold. They had a good chat about her on ward rounds. Everybody’s very excited about her being such a success story. I think there’s a bit of competition over who’s going to write up the case history and get it published in a journal.’

‘They might have to compete with the guys in New York for that.’

Melanie smiled. ‘I’m staying out of it. Bottom line was they only came in to brighten their day, I think. Nothing like a wee miracle like our Ella to make everybody feel better about life in general and work in particular.’

‘Mmm.’ Abbie cuddled her daughter, rocking her gently. Ella had put her thumb into her mouth and the vigorous sucking noises made both women smile.

‘She’s starving.’ Melanie had picked up the huge teddy bear taking up half the cot, obviously planning to move it out of the way for the night.

The thumb came out of Ella’s mouth with a popping noise. ‘No-o-o-o...’

Abbie could feel the small body tensing in her arms. Small lungs expanding to let rip with an uncharacteristic wail.

‘Don’t take it away,’ she told Melanie. ‘She’s in love.’

‘But it’s so massive. It takes up most of the cot.’

Abbie’s smile was rueful. ‘It’s pink. And it sparkles. And it was a present from Daddy.’

A somewhat loaded silence fell as Melanie put the tutu-clad bear back into the cot.

‘Has...has Rafe been in today?’

‘Twice.’ Melanie nodded. ‘You were visiting Lucy the first time and he was here for a bit this afternoon when you were in Theatre. He asked what time she got her bedtime bottle and said he’d try and get back.’ She chewed her lip and the glance at Abbie suggested there was something she was debating whether to say.

Abbie could guess what it was. Rafael wanted to be the one to give Ella her bottle and put her to bed.

And that was something she wasn’t prepared to give up.

Melanie said nothing as she went away to heat the bottle. Abbie settled herself in the armchair with Ella, trying to ignore the prickle of guilt at her determination not to willingly share the next half hour or so of her life. When Melanie returned Abbie asked the nurse to dim the lights in the room and then suggested that she take a break. She’d call if she needed any assistance getting Ella tucked up for the night later.

Bliss. Abbie adjusted the tilt of the bottle as Ella clutched it with both hands and smiled as her daughter relaxed into her sucking and lifted her gaze to meet her mother’s. The pure joy of that eye contact with her precious baby as she sucked on the only bottle she had now was the highlight of her day. Just as good as the early days when she’d been able to breastfeed Ella. It was a time when the love she had for this little person was the only thing that mattered and it was huge enough to push everything else to one side.

During the dark days of being alone with such a sick child, it had been the one thing that had kept Abbie sane and offered hope. On the worst nights, it had only been cuddling her to sleep and now that she was well enough to enjoy her warm milk, the hope was even stronger and this time together something to look forward to even more.

It was their time. Surely a reward that she had earned?

Her breath escaped in a long, contented sigh as Ella’s eyes flickered shut and then snapped open again in determination to stay awake. She wasn’t the only one who treasured this time together. She wished she’d been there for the consultants’ ward round today but she could imagine the looks and smiles that had been exchanged. Being with Ella did brighten everyone’s day. The heaviness around her own heart was finally lifting, too.

The bottle was almost finished and the dead weight of the baby in her arms suggested that sleep had arrived when the door opened softly. Had the sudden tension of seeing Rafael transferred itself to Ella? The baby stirred and whimpered but then settled again, her mouth now slack around the teat of the bottle.

‘Ohh...’ Rafael quietly shifted the small upright chair and seated himself by Ella’s head. ‘I’m too late.’

‘She was hungry.’ The prickle of guilt came back again and this time it was intensified by the emotional turmoil Abbie had been in ever since she’d rejected Rafael sexually in the changing room yesterday. ‘Would you like to hold her for a bit before she goes to bed?’

The question was clearly redundant. Big hands slid over her arms and beneath Ella to transfer the weight. Again, Ella stirred and whimpered but soft Italian words of love soothed her within seconds and then Rafael just sat, his head bowed over his daughter, his arms cradling her as if she were the most precious thing on earth.

Abbie was caught. Half lying in the reclining chair, it would take a huge effort to get up and leave father and daughter alone and it would only disturb the moment. Or maybe that was just an excuse. Maybe what had really captured her was the acute awareness of this man beside her.

The...longing.

He must have come straight from a shower because his dark curls were damp and she could actually feel the warmth coming from his skin. Could smell the fresh scent of soap and maleness. Abbie’s gaze was locked on Rafael’s hands as he held Ella. Such strong hands with those long, long fingers and the dusting of dark hair on the top. It had been his hands that had first stirred her attraction to him, hadn’t it? When he’d been waving them in the air to illustrate something he had been telling her about a case. Or had it been his eyes? The way they could hold her like a physical caress?

What would happen if she reached out and touched one of those hands now? If, when he looked up at her, she gave him the silent message that she’d been wrong. That being together again in the most intimate way possible could be the answer to dissolving the barrier between them?

It had always worked in the past to solve an argument, hadn’t it?

‘Do you remember the couch?’ The soft words seemed to come from nowhere and Abbie was as surprised as Rafael as his head jerked up.

‘Scusi?’

‘The couch. The white one.’

The supremely comfortable, feather-stuffed, totally impractical and ridiculously expensive white couch. It had been the week before their wedding and they’d been out shopping for furniture in the euphoria that had followed a successful offer on their new apartment. The same euphoria that had made them view Abbie’s unexpected pregnancy as nothing more than a sign that they were meant to be together. For ever.

‘Of course I remember. I sit on it every day.’

‘Do you remember what happened when we found it in the shop?’

Rafael seemed to be ignoring her. He rocked Ella and pressed a gentle kiss to her head. And then he sighed and gave one of those eloquent shrugs.

‘So it was our first fight. What of it? What is the point of remembering it now?

‘Because...’

Because it was important, even though Abbie wasn’t quite sure why.

‘Do you remember what you told me? About your parents? About them never arguing?’

‘It was true. They didn’t.’

‘Because your mother did whatever your father ordered to keep the peace. You said it was the Italian way and the husband was the head of the household and his word was law and arguing was a sign of disrespect. And I said it was the Victorian way and it wasn’t going to work for us because I deserved just as much respect, and if it dented your Italian pride then you’d have to suck it up and get over it.’

A snort escaped Rafael. ‘I remember. How could I forget?’

‘And what did you do then?’

Something rueful tugged at one corner of his mouth. ‘I gave you an order.’

‘Mmm.’

He had ‘ordered’ her into bed. It had been a joke, accompanied by a kiss that had demonstrated the kind of passion Abbie knew would take her straight to paradise. The argument about the couch had suddenly become irrelevant and Rafael’s pride had been soothed.

And they’d bought the damned couch. A week after it had been installed in the apartment Rafael had spilt a glass of red wine on it and the ugly stain was irreparable. Abbie had gone out and purchased a large, blue throw to cover it. A throw in the colour of the couch she had wanted to buy in the first place.

‘It was a couch,’ Rafael growled. ‘A stupid piece of furniture. We could buy another one tomorrow if it mattered.’

‘It’s not the couch that matters.’

Abbie suddenly realised why she’d dredged up such an ancient disagreement. The reason they’d fought in the first place had just been a practice run for the fight they would have over Ella’s treatment. Rafael’s pride getting in the way of any kind of compromise had led to the awful ultimatum about the future of their marriage. ‘It’s the way we resolved the fight we had about the couch.’

Rafael’s glare told Abbie just how much she had hurt him yesterday. But there was something else there, too. Confusion? That was understandable.

‘The stain’s still there, Rafe,’ Abbie said softly. ‘It just got covered up.’

He shook his head and muttered something incomprehensible in Italian.

‘The reason we fought is still there, too. We never talked about it again, did we? We never tried to resolve anything by talking about it. We just...went to bed.’

‘And it worked,’ Rafael said fiercely. ‘It was where we could show each other how much we loved each other.’

‘It didn’t work when it was really important. When it was about Ella.’

Rafael was silent. He looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. Abbie could only watch and wait. And hope, desperately, that she had managed to convey at least a part of how important this seemed to her.

But maybe she hadn’t.

‘It’s time Fiorella was in her bed.’ Rafael stood up, careful not to disturb Ella. He carried her to the cot and put her down, checking that her IV line and the pump attached to it was still intact and functioning. He tucked Ears in the crook of one arm and then drew the blanket over the small body. Then he reached to pick up the oversized bear at the foot of the cot.

‘Don’t take it out,’ Abbie said. ‘She’ll cry if it’s not there when she wakes up.’

Rafael looked over at her, his eyebrows raised.

‘She adores it. Especially the sparkles.’

Abbie smiled. Rafael smiled back at her.

‘Thank you,’ she said then.

‘What for?’

‘Talking to me.’ If nothing else, Abbie was beginning to see what the real barrier between them was. It had been there all along, hadn’t it? They just hadn’t paid any attention to it until it had been too late.

She saw Rafael taking a slow, inward breath. He held her gaze. ‘Maybe,’ he said slowly, ‘we should talk some more.’ A corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Instead of going to bed?’

Abbie tried to smile but her lips wobbled. ‘I’d like that.’

Rafael stepped closer. ‘I could take you out. For dinner...or a coffee. We...we could go to that place you love in the park. The...what’s it called? The Moo Cow?’

They’d been around a baby for long enough to change the way they thought and spoke, hadn’t they? Abbie smiled again. ‘The Cow and Coffee Bean.’

In Regent’s Park. The buffer between their home and the clinic, it had always been perfect as an escape for some exercise and fresh air.

‘Like...like a date?’

He inclined his head. ‘Si. Like a date.’

Like starting again, even? Maybe this was exactly what they needed. Swept along in the whirlwind of passion that had defined their early relationship and both so committed to their careers, had they ever stayed out of bed long enough when they’d been together to really get to know each other?

She could smile now. ‘I’d love that, Rafe. Coffee. And a walk. It would be perfect.’

Perfect for what? A first date? A new beginning?

‘It’s Saturday tomorrow. I’m sure we can both find a suitable time to be together.’

Abbie held his gaze. Was it too much to hope that that was what they both wanted out of this? To be really together again?

‘I’m sure we can.’

His nod was satisfied. Rafael touched his fingers to the top of Ella’s head in farewell and then stepped away from the cot. For a heartbeat he looked as if he was going to step towards Abbie’s chair. As if he wanted to kiss her goodnight. But she could see the way he paused just long enough to think about it and then controlled himself. How hard he was trying when he simply smiled and left.

* * *

Fickle spring weather decided to turn on a stunning April day on Saturday.

It felt as though fate was on his side as Rafael waited at the agreed meeting point at the start of the Broad Walk, just beside the zoo. The shriek of overexcited monkeys somewhere was having the opposite effect, however. Almost like maniacal laughter that was taunting him and setting his nerves on edge.

Did he really think that a pleasant walk on a sunny day was going to be enough to win Abbie back?

And what were they going to talk about? Dio...but women loved to talk, didn’t they? To pick things apart and give them far more importance than they deserved to have. Far more power that could be so destructive.

Even a few words could destroy things. And once they were uttered there was no way you could ever take them back.

If you take Ella away to do this then our marriage is over.

Rafael pushed his fingers through his hair. He wished he had never uttered those fateful words. He wished Abbie had just let him take her to bed where he knew he could have put things right. He wished those damned monkeys would just shut up for a minute. Why wasn’t Abbie here yet? Had she changed her mind about this date?

His breath came out in a whoosh of relief as a black cab swooped into the kerb and Abbie climbed out. She was wearing a blue dress he’d never seen before, with no sleeves and a tight bodice and a swirling skirt that reached almost to her ankles above sandal-clad feet. Her hair was loose and shone like a halo in the sunshine and she had a cardigan draped over the arm that held a straw bag and made it look as if she was off to a picnic.

She looked...like the woman he loved. A beautiful, English rose. With that illusion of fragility that was so sexy when you discovered the steely determination and passion that lay beneath.

‘Abbie...salve, cara. You look cosi bella.’

‘Thanks.’

Abbie felt strangely shy. As if this really was a ‘date.’ A time to meet someone who was virtually a stranger to explore what you had in common with them and whether it might be enough to build a future on together. The mix of hope, excitement and physical attraction felt like a flock of butterflies in her stomach. She hadn’t felt like this since...well, since her first date with Rafael.

‘You...look pretty good yourself, Rafe.’

What an understatement. Old, soft, faded jeans and a black T-shirt. That leather jacket that was also so old it was nearly as soft as the jeans. Rafael pushed the sleeves up a little further, which made his look more casual. And definitely sexier. But his expression dismissed the compliment.

‘In these old jeans? I think not.’

Rafael suppressed the urge to take Abbie’s hand but couldn’t identify what it was that held him back. A sense of Abbie being as tense as he was perhaps?

‘Let’s get away from here,’ he said. ‘These monkeys are driving me pazzo.’

Abbie’s laugh sounded a little forced to her own ears but some of the tension evaporated. ‘They are noisy today, aren’t they? Can you still hear them from home sometimes?’

She could remember the first time they’d heard unusual sounds coming from the direction of the zoo. Guessing what could be making the sound had become a game as they’d stood in their garden or taken an evening walk down by the canal. Was that an elephant? Or a lion?

Sometimes Rafael would try and imitate the sound until Abbie laughed so hard he would pretend to take great offence and she’d have to soothe his pride. And that had never been difficult. She only had to tell him how wonderful she thought he was, even if he couldn’t make an elephant noise to save himself. She only had to distract him with a kiss or two.

Happy times.

For a moment, Abbie was sure Rafael was thinking about the same thing. But then a shadow passed over his face and he shrugged.

‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t seem to spend that much time there these days.’ Rafael could see the flash of disappointment in Abbie’s eyes. Had he made it sound like he didn’t want to be in their home any more? ‘Work’s been so busy, you know?’

‘Mmm. Ethan told me how hard you’ve been working while I was away.’

While she’d been away. There it was again. The huge thing that lay between them that Rafael had no idea how to make go away. Was talking about it really going to help?

They weren’t even talking now. Just walking side by side in silence amongst the throng of Londoners out to enjoy a Saturday afternoon in the sunshine. Trees were vibrant with the fresh, new green of leaves just beginning to unfurl for the new season. Ancient trunks had skirts of bluebells and daffodils. There were young mothers pushing prams, a father giving a toddler a ride on his shoulders, small children on bicycles and tricycles, teenagers weaving with dangerous speed through the pedestrians on their skateboards...

‘Mind out!’ Rafael’s arm was around Abbie’s shoulders in a flash, guiding her out of the path of a speeding youth. The feel of the bare skin of her shoulder beneath his hand was a jolt of sensation that arrowed through his entire body. Hastily, he dropped the contact. Abbie didn’t want this, did she?

Oddly, the touch of Rafael’s hand on her bare shoulder had felt less intimate than his automatic instinct to protect her. And it had felt...wonderful. She might have had to stand completely on her own feet for the last few months and become stronger because of it but it didn’t mean that she didn’t want to feel cherished.

Loved.

The speed with which he dropped the contact was disappointing. Abbie bit her lip, trying to think of something to say.

‘Do you think it will be this crowded in the coffee shop?’

‘I expect so.’ Rafael could feel himself scowling. If they couldn’t talk to each other in the relative privacy of being outside, what was it going to be like in the café? Would they sit in silence and sip their lattes amidst the buzz of the conversation of others? With the tension between them steadily increasing?

‘I know.’ Abbie tilted her head, peering past people to see where they were exactly. ‘Let’s get coffee to go from the cart over there and take it to the Secret Garden. That’s always quieter.’

It didn’t take long because they knew the route so well. Off the Inner Circle and through the large circular garden with the statue of Hylas in the pond. You could see the imposing structure of St John’s Lodge from here, reputedly owned by the Sultan of Brunei these days. But they weren’t after an imposing view.

Rafael led the way on a wide grass path, past the blossoms of the dog roses and the twisted trees of white wisteria. Beneath a leafy arbour to the circle of lime trees around a stone urn. And...yes...the covered seat at one end of the garden was unoccupied at the moment.

For a moment, Abbie lost all sense of time. She wasn’t here with her estranged husband, trying to find a way to reconnect. She was here with the man she was head over heels in love with. Wondering why he was leading to her such a secluded, romantic spot. Why the destination seemed so important, the mission so urgent.

And then the reality of the difference this time kicked in and Abbie’s step faltered. It was an audible effort to catch her breath.

Rafael almost groaned aloud when he sensed Abbie’s step faltering. What had he been thinking in following this particular route? He had led Abbie back to the exact spot he’d proposed to her.

Closing his eyes for a heartbeat, Rafael cursed himself for his insensitivity and wondered how he could rescue the situation, but then he heard Abbie take a deep breath.

‘Perfect,’ she murmured.

Rafael’s eyes flew open. ‘It is?’

‘Mmm.’ Abbie offered him a smile that was almost shy. ‘If we’re going to start again, what better place than back where it all started?’

They were going to start again? There was hope? And he’d chosen the perfect place? Rafael could feel his chest expand just a little. This time he didn’t suppress the urge to take Abbie’s hand and he didn’t let go until they were seated side by side on the small bench. They could see people through the arbour but, for the moment, they had this small patch of the park to themselves.

‘So...’ Rafael cleared his throat. He was ready to face whatever was coming even if his heart did seem to be beating faster than usual. ‘What shall we talk about?’

Abbie closed her eyes for a moment. What did he think they needed to talk about? The weather? The thought almost made her smile because that was exactly what they’d talked about the last time they’d sat on this bench. They’d actually had to brush snow away before they’d sat down and she’d been freezing and Rafael had opened his coat and tucked her in beside him. He wanted to keep her warm, he’d said. To look after her. For ever.

She opened her eyes but didn’t look up at Rafael.

‘Us,’ she said quietly. ‘That’s what we need to talk about.’

Oh, no... Rafael drained the last of his coffee. This was worse than he’d feared. Abbie wanted to analyse their relationship and pick it apart. His voice came out more harshly than he had intended. ‘What about us?’

Abbie met his gaze. There was a tiny frown line above her eyes. ‘Well...we don’t really know each other, do we?’

‘Pfff...’ Rafael couldn’t help the incredulous sound. Or the movement of his hands, one of which slashed through the air while the other crushed the empty paper cup it was holding and dropped it on the bench beside him. It was an effort not to jump to his feet as the words tried to rush past each other to get out.

‘Of course we know each other. We’re married. We...’ Love each other? No. He couldn’t speak for Abbie. He changed tack. ‘I know you, Abbie. I know that you like two sugars in your coffee. That you hate lacy knickers because they make you itch. That people who hurt their children make you very, very angry.’ He was counting off his list on his fingers. ‘That one of your favourite surgeries is making new little ears for children. That—’

But Abbie was shaking her head as she set her own cup carefully aside. ‘I mean something that goes deeper than that. You don’t know why I did what I did. Why I had to take Ella to New York even if it was going to mean the end of the marriage that meant so much to me.’

‘But I do...’ Rafael swallowed hard. ‘I know that your little sister, Sophie, died when you were only twelve. That you felt your parents had failed her because they refused to try any treatment that might have added to her suffering when they knew it would gain nothing but a little more time. But that was different. It wasn’t leukaemia and we tried everything we could even it was only going to give us a little more time. The idea that the treatment in New York could really work was...’

Way too much of a miracle to hope for. Rafael’s words trailed into silence. It had worked, hadn’t it? He’d been wrong.

‘You knew the reason,’ Abbie agreed quietly. ‘But you didn’t understand how I felt about it because if you had you would have been there with me, Rafe. By my side. And it really hurt that you weren’t.’

It hurt thinking about Sophie, too. The little sister she’d lost. The way her family had fallen apart. Sophie had been ill for so long that family life had centred exclusively on her and Abbie had felt almost invisible. The feeling had only strengthened after her sister’s death. Had her parents been too afraid to love her too much in case they lost her, too? Did they come to blame each other—the way she secretly did—for not having tried hard enough to save Sophie?

Or did all the love just die because it got smothered under the grief?

She’d tried so hard....

She’d been driven to fight for Ella instead of standing back and watching her die. But her new family had still fallen apart, hadn’t it? Was it impossible to win in a dreadful situation like that?

Rafael could see the pain he’d caused by reminding Abbie of what she’d lost as a child. And by not being there for her in New York when she’d needed him. What could he say?

‘I’m sorry.’ The words were raw. ‘I was wrong.’

This time it was Abbie who took hold of his hand. ‘It’s not just your fault, Rafe. Don’t you see? I couldn’t understand why you were so opposed to it, any more than you could understand me. Oh, I knew how much you hated to see children suffering when there couldn’t be a positive outcome, and that’s why you changed specialties to get away from oncology, but this was your own daughter. I just didn’t get it.’ She bit her lip. ‘We don’t get each other.’

‘Get?’ Sometimes, if he was really fired up about something, his languages could tangle in his head and make him miss subtleties.

‘Understand. No...it’s more than that, I think. If you really love someone and you can understand why they feel the way they do, then you’ll support them, even if you might not agree with whatever it is.’

Rafael turned the words over in his head. ‘You’re right,’ he said into the quietness. ‘I should have supported you.’

‘And maybe I should have supported you.’

‘Che cosa? But I was wrong. You only have to look at Ella to see that I was wrong.’

‘But if I’d understood why, maybe we could have changed things. All I could see was someone who was being a doctor, not a father. Or a husband. Someone who couldn’t feel what I was feeling.’

It was true. He had isolated himself emotionally. Circumstances had then isolated him physically.

But they were closer now, surely? They were talking about things they’d never talked about before.

‘It won’t happen again,’ he told Abbie. ‘I love you. I love Ella. I want to be a good father and husband.’ He touched her face. Cupping it gently the way he always had before trying to convey his sincerity with a tender kiss.

But Abbie pulled away from his touch. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘Please, don’t.’

It was too bittersweet, that touch. She could give in to it so easily but it still wouldn’t solve anything. It would still be a throw covering a stain.

Rafael dropped his hand. He turned to stare straight ahead and Abbie followed his line of vision. Through the arbour she could see a young couple, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing a passionate kiss. As intent on each other as Abbie and Rafael had been when they’d first come here together. As oblivious to the twists of fate that might pull them apart in the future.

Rafael had to turn away from the sight of the young lovers. He and Abbie had been that close once. He’d hoped that they might get that close again today but they were as far apart as they had been before they had come here, weren’t they? Talking had solved nothing.

‘I’m still hurting, Rafe.’ Abbie spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear the words. ‘And I can’t go through anything like this again. I know Ella needs her father as much as she needs her mother right now but...I need time. I need to be sure.’

Rafael closed his eyes. She wasn’t the only one who was still hurting. ‘And how did you think it made me feel, Abbie? When you wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say? When you took Ella away and I was so sure I would never see her again? Never hold her? You’re not the only one who was hurt.’

‘I know. And I’m sorry.’

Rafael’s fingers found a tangled part of his hair but he shoved them through the obstruction, welcoming the pain. ‘Can we ever get past this? What do we do now?’

‘I hope we can get past this.’ But Abbie’s smile was shaky. Unsure? ‘And now? I think we should go and spend some time with our daughter.’

It was Abbie who picked up the empty coffee cups and found a rubbish bin to put them in. She put on the soft cardigan she’d been carrying because there were a few clouds in the sky now and when the sunlight dimmed, the temperature dropped noticeably. The picnic feel to the day was gone. The date was over. They walked out of the Secret Garden and back through the main park in silence but it was a different kind of silence from the one when they’d first entered the park together.

Things were out in the open. Yes, their marriage was still on the line but it seemed that they both wanted to repair it, at least. Surely that was a good thing?

‘Maybe, one day soon,’ he said, ‘we’ll be able to bring Ella to the park. To show her the Secret Garden.’

‘I hope so,’ Abbie responded. ‘And we could take her to the zoo.’

‘To see the monkeys.’ The unenthusiastic tone made them both look at each other. And then they both smiled.

She understood. And if they did go to the zoo, she would know that it was a generous act on his part because those monkeys drove him pazzo.

He could feel his heart lift. The connection was there. And the love. Surely it was going to be possible to build a bridge over the troubled waters that still lay between them?

It had to be possible, Rafael decided as they went through the ornate iron gates and he raised his arm to flag down a taxi.

It was as simple as that, really.

CHAPTER SIX

GIFTS WERE STARTING to pile up in Ella’s room.

While the big pink bear was the frontrunner in the popularity stakes, everybody who looked after Ella was enjoying the growing stack of bright picture books and the toys, especially the board with the animal pictures and the buttons that made the appropriate noise for the animal when Ella pushed it. Her attempts to imitate the noises made them all laugh.

And Rafael had a new audience on which to try out his own animal noises.

‘This is a lion, Ella. Rrrroahhh... You’ll hear them when we take you to the zoo one day. You might even hear them at home. And this is a monkey. Eeek, eeek, eeek.’

The noises made both Ella and Abbie grin but they had yet to hear their little girl giggle again. What would it take?

‘You don’t have to bring a present every time you come, Rafe. You’re spoiling her.’

‘I want her to look forward to seeing me.’ But Rafael put the bag he was carrying today on the floor and leaned on the edge of the cot, watching as Abbie caught the small, waving arms and pushed them gently into the sleeves of her sleep suit.

‘Mum-mum-mum,’ Ella crowed.

‘That’s me.’ Abbie snapped some fastenings closed. ‘Mama. Can you say papa?’

Ella stared up at her, her eyes round.

‘Papa?’ she repeated encouragingly.

Ella grinned. ‘Mum-mum-mum.’

‘I think that’s the only word she knows.’ Rafael was also smiling but Abbie could sense his disappointment. She tried to distract him.

‘She’s pretty good at “no.” You should have heard her at lunchtime when I tried to persuade her to eat some carrots.’

‘She doesn’t like carrots?’

‘Not yet. Same with pumpkin.’

‘Maybe it’s the colour she doesn’t like.’

‘Hmm... You could be right.’ Abbie smiled and caught Rafael’s gaze. ‘It does clash with pink, doesn’t it?’

His answering smile was swift and, for a heartbeat, things felt good. There were more of these moments now, when it felt like there was a real connection between them again. The time they’d spent in the park together had been a good starting point but, even with more time with both of them here with Ella and more moments when they were in tune with each other, that distance between them didn’t appear to be shrinking.

Ella was the driving force behind Abbie’s motivation for trying to repair her marriage. She desperately wanted her daughter to grow up with a loving father in her life. For them all to make a real family. But the connection had to there between her parents, too. It had to be more than physical and it had to be strong enough to last the distance. While they were reaching out tentatively to see if they could find and build on that kind of connection, sadly it was Ella who was making things harder.

Oh, she loved the presents. And she loved seeing her daddy and having a cuddle. As long as she wasn’t tired. Or sore. Or hungry. Or had a dirty nappy or anything else that was making life a little less joyful. At those times, she only wanted Abbie.

Mum-mum-mum.

As the days passed it was obvious that Rafael was feeling excluded. It wasn’t just an Italian’s pride that was being dented. Any father would feel disheartened by the preference that Ella made crystal clear when it was needed. And it wasn’t something that Abbie could fix, was it? Rafael hadn’t been there for such a long time. A quarter of Ella’s life. Was it any wonder that the baby saw him as a visitor in her life? That she expected her mother to provide everything from food to comfort?

Abbie glanced at her watch. Any minute now and the nurse would arrive with Ella’s night-time bottle. And Rafael was here. She should let him feed her.

Maybe it was the biggest olive branch she could offer?

She couldn’t put it into words but when she picked Ella up and offered her to Rafe as the nurse came in with the bottle of warm milk, she could see that he understood how significant this was. The way his gaze held hers with a flash of surprise and then gratitude and then a flood of warmth that felt like pure love was enough to bring a huge lump to her throat.

Rafael sat down in the armchair with Ella in his arms. She was happy enough to lie there until she caught sight of the bottle. The hungry whimper was followed by her head craning so far sideways Abbie feared for her neck.

‘Mum-mum-mum...’ Small arms were reaching out for her.

Rafael chased her mouth with the teat of the bottle but Ella was having none of it. She arched her body into a stiff bow and her face went an alarming shade of red.

Abbie had to force herself not to scoop Ella out of her father’s arms. ‘Try again,’ she said above the noise Ella was starting to make. ‘She’ll get used to the idea of you feeding her in a minute.’

But Rafael shook his head. ‘I can’t bear to hear her this unhappy. You do it, Abbie.’ He stood up and all but shoved Ella into her arms.

It felt like defeat. Worse, even when Ella settled and started sucking hungrily, the joy of doing this was somehow diminished. Abbie could feel Rafael’s gaze on her, and she could feel his despair. And there seemed to be something accusing in the gaze Ella had fixed on her, too. She felt like the meat in a sandwich. All she was trying to do was stick the layers back together. Why was it so difficult?

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly to Rafael.

He gave one of those eloquent shrugs. ‘It’s not your fault. Fiorella is a baby. All she knows is what she wants to make her happy.’

But Abbie knew what she wanted to make her happy, too. And it seemed as far away as ever.

‘I...um...thought I might come home tomorrow. After work.’

Rafael went very still. Oh, help...

‘Just to see if I find a suitable dress and shoes and things or whether I’ll need to go shopping. For the wedding on Saturday?’

‘Ah... Of course.’

‘I thought you might like to be here with Ella while I’m gone. If you’re free about five o’clock, you could feed her her dinner.’

A faintly incredulous huff escaped Rafael but Abbie ignored it. ‘If I’m not here, she might be happy to let you feed her. And food is different from a bottle. She lets nursing staff feed her sometimes. We can only keep trying, can’t we?’

A sigh this time. ‘Si...’ Rafael’s expression was unreadable. ‘This is true.’

* * *

‘She’s doing well, isn’t she, Mr de Luca?’

‘She certainly is.’ Rafael stroked the hair of the little Afghan girl, Anoosheh, and smiled at her. It had been nearly two weeks since her massive surgery and the swelling was going down nicely.

‘She’s learning English fast,’ his registrar put in. ‘Can you say hello to Mr de Luca, Anoosheh?’

‘’Ello,’ Anoosheh said obligingly. ‘I am ’appy to see you, Dock-a-dor.’ The words were an effort to produce and then her face twisted into an odd expression.

‘She’s trying to smile,’ the nurse told them. ‘It’s still hard.’

‘Keep trying,’ Rafael told his small patient. ‘Soon you will be lighting up the world with your smile.’

They all had to keep trying, didn’t they?

Even when it didn’t seem to be working.

The parts of his life were all there and, if you took each one on its own, there wasn’t anything obvious that was broken.

Work was fine. Little Anoosheh was a triumph and one that was being followed closely enough by the media for Rafael’s reputation to be growing rather too fast for his liking. Only this morning he’d had to pass a request to appear on a television talk show over to Ethan—who probably passed it to Declan. Far better that the charity projects of the Hunter Clinic got some good publicity than that he became the poster boy for reconstructive plastic surgery.

Ella was fine, too. Doing better each day. The three-month mark when her bone marrow could be checked again was rapidly approaching and if the results were good, her central line could be removed and she would be allowed home. Even better, his precious daughter was happy and she had no trouble lighting up the world with her smile.

There had been no objections when he’d been the one to feed her the other evening and he’d done it again last night because it seemed that Abbie did need a new dress for Leo and Lizzie’s upcoming wedding and it had given her a chance to hit the high street.

Yes. The wheels of his life were turning perfectly well.

It was when Rafael’s ward rounds took him to visit Lucy, the little girl who’d been in the car crash, that he realised what was bothering him so much.

Lucy’s grandmother was beside the bed, holding a drink that Lucy was sipping through a straw. She watched as Rafael checked the chart and then gently examined the little girl’s face.

‘Can you open your mouth a little for me, chicken? Does that still hurt?’

‘Mmm.’

‘It will get a little better each day. But only if you keep trying.’ Rafael covered her right eye with one hand and then held up his other hand. ‘How many fingers can you see?’

‘Free.’ The word had to come out without her mouth moving.

‘Good girl.’ Rafael smiled at the grandmother. ‘The vision’s improving.’

She nodded. ‘Mrs de Luca had a specialist from the eye department come in this morning. They think it’s going to be fine. And the orthopaedic surgeon is happy with her arms and the movement she’s got in her fingers. Mrs de Luca took some of the stitches out of her face this morning, too. It’s looking a bit better, isn’t it?’

Rafael could hear the doubt in the woman’s voice. ‘If you’d seen Lucy when she came into Theatre, you would know that what Mrs de Luca did is just amazing. Lucy will need more surgery later but, eventually, I suspect you’re going to have to look carefully to see any lasting damage.’ His reassurance was sincere. The pride he felt in Abbie’s work even more heartfelt.

‘She’s your wife, isn’t she? Mrs de Luca?’

‘She is.’

In name only, however. The taunting whisper stayed with Rafael as he finished his round of the surgical ward.

The wheels of his life might be turning perfectly well but the cogs weren’t fitting together properly so the wheels weren’t turning together. Was it only coincidence that working together to operate on Lucy had been the only time they’d been that close professionally since she’d returned?

She should be here now, sharing this ward round. Sharing the pleasure in the little girl’s excellent progress. But she’d been here before him today and she was in Theatre this afternoon. Creating a new ear for the patient she’d seen on the morning of that first outpatient clinic together. The one that had led to Leo and Ethan ordering them to put their personal issues aside and work together properly again. But they weren’t, were they? Even this patient they’d worked so hard on together was now being followed up on at different times.

His time with Ella was wonderful but she would only allow him to do things for her when Abbie wasn’t there.

There was nothing wrong with his home either, except that the only time Abbie had gone there had been when he had been here, looking after Ella.

How could they possibly put things right when they were beginning to shape their lives into completely separate wheels? It wouldn’t matter how smoothly they turned, it wouldn’t be any kind of a marriage and he wouldn’t blame Abbie for deciding it wasn’t good enough.

Somehow he had to get the cogs to fit inside each other. To show Abbie that, by doing so, the ‘machine’ of them being together would be stronger. Able to do so much more. Could last for ever, like a beautifully crafted clock.

But marriage wasn’t a machine, was it? He was thinking about this all the wrong way. And maybe it was that kind of thinking that had caused their problems right from the start.

Waiting by the lift when he’d left his junior staff to follow up on any new orders for his patients, Rafael couldn’t shake off the disturbing undercurrent his analogy of timepieces had left him with.

You couldn’t divorce emotion from things that happened to people. He was too good at standing back and seeing the big picture without the emotional layers. The way he had when it had come to making that decision about Ella’s experimental treatment. Perhaps the way he had when he’d voiced that ‘all or nothing’ ultimatum about their marriage? When he looked at the big picture, he saw it in terms of benefit versus suffering for the individual involved from a clinical perspective.

Abbie was the opposite. She saw the same big picture, but her scales weighed the emotions of everybody involved and not just the patient at the centre of the decision to be made. And the results she came up with were very different sometimes.

But not wrong.

Rafael knew that. He also knew that he’d made things much worse while Abbie and Ella had been away in New York. He’d buried himself in his work and when he had thought about his family, the fear that he would never see his daughter again had been easily shrouded in anger and then resentment towards Abbie. He’d been cool and clipped in any communication. No wonder it had trailed away into impersonal emails and text messages.

But how did you go about changing something that was a part of your personality? How could you learn to feel the things that someone like Abbie could feel?

By finding someone to teach you?

The lift doors slid open in front of him but, instead of stepping in, Rafael turned swiftly and headed for the stairs.

* * *

Abbie knew it was Rafael coming into the theatre without even having to turn her head.

What she didn’t know was why he had come in. The surgery for the grade-three microtia on seven-year-old Annabelle was well under way. Rib cartilage had been harvested and Abbie was sculpting the new ear. She had to look up for a second as Rafael stepped closer, however. Had something happened to Ella?

The eye contact was reassuring. ‘Don’t let me interrupt,’ Rafael said. ‘I just had the urge to come and watch an artist at work.’

Abbie blinked. ‘Really? What brought this on?’

‘I was checking Lucy. Admiring your needlework. And then I remembered you were doing this today and it’s been a long time since I’ve watched the procedure. Do you mind?’

‘No, of course not.’ Hardly. He had been admiring her work? Wanted to watch ‘an artist’? How could anyone object to such a professional accolade?

It put the pressure on a little more, though. Not that Abbie hadn’t been doing her best before but now she was determined to make this perfect.

‘This is Annabelle,’ she told Rafael. ‘She’s been waiting a long time for this surgery but I needed her to be old enough to have sufficient rib cartilage to harvest.’

‘She could have had the surgery much younger with a Medpor reconstruction, couldn’t she?’

Was Rafael criticising her choice? Abbie couldn’t help sounding a little defensive.

‘Using an artificial framework means that the ear can’t match the other one perfectly. It also doesn’t grow with the child. This creates an ear that’s alive. One that’s going to last a lifetime.’

‘But not many surgeons are gifted enough to do it well. Annabelle is lucky to have found you.’

There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the team. Abbie shook off the praise. ‘I think she chose me because I said I’d put an earring in to match her other ear so it’ll be there when the bandage comes off for the first time next week.’

Happy with the shape of the outer ear she had carved from the cartilage, Abbie turned her attention to the peanut-shaped deformity that had been Annabelle’s right ear until now. She could use the lower part for the ear lobe. The tiny gold stud earring was bathed in disinfectant and waiting in a kidney dish nearby.

Rafael was watching her examination of the deformed ear tissue.

‘She must have been teased a lot at school.’

‘Yes. She’s kept it covered pretty well with her hair but she was very self-conscious about it. Her mother said they had all sorts of problems when she was expected to do swimming at school.’

‘Has it affected her badly, do you think?’

‘Well, she’s very shy. Hard to say whether she would have been more outgoing without the deformity but I’m sure it’s contributed. It would have become progressively more of an issue as she got older, of course.’

‘Si... It would be torture for a teenage girl to look so different.’

‘Mmm. That’s why I favour the rib graft method. She’ll need a bit more surgery to refine things down the track but by the time Annabelle’s interested in boys, her ear will look and feel as if it’s always been there.’

This was weird. She might have expected a keen interest from Rafael but Abbie would never have picked that it would focus on the emotional side of the surgery and its aftermath. Why wasn’t he asking about the dimensions of the suture material she was using? Or the technique for elevating a skin flap to preserve all the hair follicles so that Annabelle wouldn’t be left with a bald patch?

‘She has conduction deafness, I assume?’

‘Yes. There’s no ear canal or eardrum on this side.’ That was more like it. A clinical query.

‘Is that causing problems for her? Or her family?’

‘Doesn’t seem to be.’ He was doing it again. Looking past the clinical picture and considering the bigger, emotional picture. Something was going on in his head, Abbie realised. He was making a deliberate effort. To connect with her way of thinking about patients, perhaps?

Whatever it was, she liked it.

‘They’re under the care of an audiologist to make sure they look after the good side.’ Abbie was peering through the magnifying lenses she wore to make tiny stitches that attached the ear lobe to the new part she had crafted. ‘I think they’re all more concerned about the cosmetic side of it all at the moment, though.’

She checked again that the lobe was at exactly the same level as Annabelle’s other ear.

‘Looking good.’ Her registrar nodded. ‘You ready for the earring?’

Abbie grinned. ‘Let’s do it.’

Even when the surgery was completed, the pressure dressing in place and protected with the plastic cup that was taped on, Rafael didn’t seem inclined to talk about anything clinical.

‘Were you happy with Lucy’s progress?’

‘She’s doing well, isn’t she?’ Abbie stripped off her mask and gloves. ‘I’ll be happier when she can eat again, though. She’s lost quite a lot of weight.’

‘I’ve arranged for a physiotherapist who specialises in maxillofacial injuries to start working with her. Her grandmother’s keen to help, too.’

‘It’s great that she’s got the family support there.’ But Abbie sighed as she pulled off her gown. ‘Her mother’s still in ICU. It’s not looking hopeful.’

‘And the father?’

‘Not in the picture.’ Abbie balled up the gown and threw it in the bin. ‘Hasn’t been since she was a baby.’

A broken family. The kind that Abbie didn’t want for Ella. Or for herself or Rafael, for that matter. She forced a smile to her lips.

‘On a more positive note, I found a gorgeous dress and shoes for the wedding tomorrow. Did you get your suit cleaned?’

‘I have to pick it up at the dry-cleaner’s after work.’

‘But you’ll come and see Ella later?’

‘Of course.’

The smile was genuine this time. ‘We’ll look forward to that.’

‘Me also. And tomorrow...the wedding? It will be another date for us, perhaps?’

The hopeful expression in Rafael’s eyes almost undid Abbie completely. If they weren’t still standing in Theatre, with staff busy around them cleaning up after Annabelle had been taken to Recovery, she might have thrown her arms around his neck. Stood on tiptoe to provide reassurance with a kiss.

But all she could do was smile. And offer a quiet word that was only for Rafael.

‘Absolutely.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE PHOTOGRAPHS OF this wedding would grace the pages of any magazine devoted to the lifestyles of the rich and famous.

As a venue, Claridge’s was simply one of the best London could offer. Intimate tables for the wedding breakfast, which seated only three or four people each, could be seen in an adjoining area, draped in white cloth with centrepieces of trios of white roses in simple vases amidst sparkling crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. Larger arrangements of flowers, also white, were dotted everywhere amongst the pillars.

The area that Rafael and Abbie were ushered to be seated was also extremely elegant. There would be many more people arriving for the reception but the ceremony itself was more private and a semicircle of comfortably padded chairs for the guests was arranged beneath a spectacular chandelier, giving everybody a clear view of the sweeping staircase that the bride would come down to make her entrance. The seats were mostly filled by the time Abbie and Rafael edged into the back row. She said hello to Lexi Robbins, Head of PR at the Hunter Clinic. Lexi was holding hands with the man on her other side, surgeon Iain McKenzie, and it was almost palpable how much in love these two were. Neither of them was particularly aware of the existence of anybody else and their private, whispered communication was probably about a different wedding. One that they would be starring in themselves in the not-too-distant future.

It was a very different wedding that Abbie couldn’t help thinking about, too. Sitting here, all dressed up, it felt like she and Rafael were in a silent little bubble amongst the other guests. A tense kind of silence. Was he also thinking about the last wedding he had attended?

Their wedding?

The memory of that day was blurry. If it wasn’t for the photograph taken on the steps of the registry office and the ring she still wore on her finger, it would be easy to believe that it had never really happened. They’d done it all too fast, hadn’t they? It was all rather a blur. Falling in love with Rafael, finding out she was pregnant and then buying the apartment and getting married within just a few weeks.

Would it have all been different if she hadn’t been pregnant?

Of course it would.

Would Rafael have even proposed if things had been different?

Abbie stole a sideways glance at him but Rafael’s line of vision was firmly fixed elsewhere. As the muted buzz of conversation faded around her, Abbie’s head turned as well. Within moments of Lizzie appearing, the only sound around her was the soft classical music of the string quartet in the background. Leo stood near the foot of the staircase with Ethan beside him—Abbie had heard how Lizzie had convinced Ethan to be Leo’s best man after he’d originally refused due to their strained relationship—and, like everyone else now, the groom’s gaze was fixed on Lizzie as she came slowly down, her bridesmaid several steps behind her.

Her dress was gorgeous. Simple but striking with cap sleeves of the lace that overlaid the rest of the dress and a slim belt with a silver buckle above soft folds of fabric that flowed over the stairs and then grazed the black and white marble of the chequerboard floor. The bouquet she carried was simply a bunch of the same perfect white roses that were the centrepieces on the tables. Leo and Ethan had matching white rosebuds as buttonholes in their classic, dark morning suit jackets over pinstriped grey trousers.

The wedding vows exchanged were traditional. The same words that Rafael and Abbie had said to each other.

To have and to hold... For better or for worse... In sickness and in health...

To love and to cherish, from this day forward, until death us do part...

Maybe the memories of her own wedding day weren’t that blurry after all. The words echoed in her head but something strange was happening in the rest of her body. Her heart was back in that registry office. Full to bursting with so much love.

So many hopes and dreams for her future with this wonderful man.

Her breath must have caught audibly. Not that anyone else would have noticed Rafael’s attention being diverted but his body was suddenly closer. Touching hers. With no conscious thought on her part, Abbie found her hand stealing into Rafael’s. Their fingers laced together and the grip was tight enough to know that she wasn’t the only one being swamped by emotion.

They had vowed to love each other. In sickness and in health. Did it matter if it was Ella’s health rather than either of theirs?

Of course it didn’t.

Had they broken their vows? They were still married, weren’t they?

Abbie was fighting tears as she watched the tender first kiss of the newlyweds in front of them.

Yes. She and Rafael had broken their vows because they hadn’t cherished each other. And the fault was on both sides.

But how could they have given each other what they’d needed when they hadn’t really known each other? They had both wanted the best for Ella. Rafael must be feeling so guilty now, thinking that he had been ready to give up, and here she was, defying the odds.

Abbie squeezed his hand more tightly and was grateful for the answering pressure. And then they both turned their heads as the clapping around them started and Abbie could have drowned in the depths she saw in Rafael’s eyes. She couldn’t pull her hand free to join in the congratulatory clapping. She couldn’t look away from Rafael’s gaze either.

This moment took her straight back to their own wedding. To the way Rafael had looked at her in the heartbeat after the celebrant had told him he could kiss his bride.

It was the most natural thing in the world for him to tilt his head towards her now and for Abbie to raise her face.

A soft kiss. Nothing like the explosive release of need that had happened in the changing room. This was tender. Too brief but long enough.

A cherishing kind of kiss...

‘You’re crying, cara.’ Rafael studied her face as he raised his head again. He used the pad of his thumb to brush away a tear.

‘It’s a wedding.’ Abbie sniffed and dipped her head, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose to force back any more tears. She looked up and tried to smile. ‘You’re allowed to cry.’

‘Si...’ Rafael was smiling back at her. ‘You’re lucky we didn’t get married in Italy. The whole village might have been crying.’

Abbie snorted softly but the sound was poignant. The registry office had only been supposed to be a first wedding—getting the formal paperwork out of the way—because Abbie hadn’t wanted to be a pregnant bride. Rafael had promised he would take her to Italy as soon as the baby could travel and they could do it all again in a village church on his beloved Amalfi Coast. She would have a beautiful dress and their families would be able to share the celebration not only of their union but the start of their family.

Was it another dream that was nothing but dust now? She had to clear her throat. ‘Happy crying, I hope.’

‘Of course. What else?’ But Rafael’s gaze had moved. Somebody was turning from a chair in the next row to greet him and conversations were starting again around them as the newlyweds moved on to sign the register. They would disappear for photographs soon and Abbie knew that the gathering would become a glittering social occasion as the wider circle of guests arrived. There were rumours that royalty was expected, even, as some of the Hunter brothers’ clients had been invited to share this celebration.

Suddenly Abbie didn’t want to be part of it.

She wanted to be alone somewhere.

With her own husband.

Maybe he felt the same way. Maybe that was why Rafael kept hold of Abbie’s hand when they were free to move around and mingle.

Abbie wasn’t complaining.

It felt better than good. It felt right.

* * *

There was no shortage of people they knew to talk to and groups formed as champagne and canapés were served by an army of waiting staff. Friends and family of the bride and groom drifted into one group and the medical personnel from the Hunter Clinic, the Lighthouse Children’s Hospital and Princess Catherine’s made up another.

‘Abbie...what a gorgeous dress.’ The office manager from the clinic, Gwen, was balancing a glass in one hand and what looked like a tiny square of rye bread topped with caviar in the other.

Rafael nodded his approval of the compliment. The new rose-pink dress was gorgeous but, in his opinion, it only worked because it made Abbie’s skin and hair look irresistibly beautiful. An elegant version of the picnic frock she had worn to the park the other day when she’d taken his breath away.

‘Thanks, Gwen. I love your hat, too.’ Abbie was eyeing the froth of flowers and feathers on Gwen’s head. ‘Though it’s more of a fascinator, isn’t it?’

‘A hybrid.’ Gwen smiled. ‘I believe it’s called a “hatinator.” Whatever next?’ She looked at the canapé her hand. ‘This is my second one of these. They’re simply delicious.’ She glanced from Abbie to Rafael. ‘You’re not eating?’

‘I wanted to hold my wife’s hand,’ Rafael said solemnly. ‘But I couldn’t refuse a glass of champagne. What is a man to do?’

He could feel an increase of pressure from the fingers entwined with his. Was Abbie privately expressing her approval of this contact?

He really didn’t want to be here, being sociable, any more. He wanted to be alone somewhere.

With Abbie.

Gwen laughed. ‘Now, there’s an idea. A new kind of diet. You could write a book and become famous.’

‘He’s already famous.’ Another figure joined their conversation. ‘I hear that they want to make a movie about transforming the lives of Afghan children and Hollywood is demanding Mr Rafael de Luca as the star.’

The deadpan manner in which this information was delivered made it sound quite plausible. But this was Edward North who was speaking, a microsurgeon who was known for being slightly eccentric and a bit of a loner. He was awkward enough in social settings for it to be quite surprising to see him attend an event like this at all.

‘Yeah, yeah...’ Rafael’s tone was mocking but he smiled to take any sting from the tone.

As if sensing a sudden tension in the air, Gwen moved away to talk to someone else and he could feel Abbie’s fingers stiff and still in his hand now.

Rafael wasn’t sure who released the contact first. Maybe it just didn’t feel right to be standing here holding hands while they were talking to Edward. Because he’d been the cause of the trouble their marriage was in now?

Or perhaps Abbie had heard that his relationship with this particular colleague had not been the best recently. He had been angry with Edward and they’d barely spoken in the last few months, but he’d been justified, hadn’t he?

Nobody could deny that Edward was a genius. Thanks to the endless nights he spent on his own reading and researching, he’d been the one to find the information on the experimental treatment that he thought Ella might be a candidate for.

He just wished that Edward had had some idea of the chaos his suggestion would have on his marriage. Had he even been aware of his misery in the last few months? Probably not. He wasn’t a father himself. As far as Rafael was aware, he wasn’t in a long-term relationship either.

Maybe, in his own way, the backhanded compliment disguised as the faux breaking news was his way of apologising. Edward was certainly aware of some undercurrents because he cleared his throat and ran a finger under his collar, as if it was uncomfortable, as he turned towards Abbie.

‘How’s Ella?’ he enquired. ‘I heard that she’s back in the Lighthouse but...I haven’t heard any details about the treatment.’

‘It seems to have worked,’ Abbie said quietly. ‘For a while there, it didn’t look like it would but—’

‘Something went wrong?’ Edward was frowning. ‘Not graft versus host disease?’ He shook his head. ‘No, that wouldn’t happen. It’s the patient’s own T cells that are being reengineered, isn’t it? So that they’ll recognise and attach to the CD19 protein that’s on the surface of B cells.’

‘There’s another protein,’ Abbie told him. ‘I’ll have to look up what it is for you but it’s the same one that’s involved with rheumatoid arthritis. Anyway, the levels got very elevated because of the new T cells and Ella became critically ill. She was in the intensive-care unit for weeks.’

Edward looked like he was making a mental note to investigate the unnamed protein himself. ‘What did they use to treat her?’

‘The same drugs they use for rheumatoid. With quite dramatic results. Her fever and temperature dropped rapidly and she was taken off the ventilator much sooner than any of us had hoped for.’

The atmosphere became even more strained. Edward looked vaguely appalled, as if how dangerous the treatment had been hadn’t occurred to him when he’d suggested it.

‘It did work in the end,’ Abbie said. ‘We wouldn’t have even known about it if it hadn’t been for you. And we couldn’t be more grateful.’

We.

They were both looking at him now. It was Rafael’s turn to clear his throat. He tilted his head in acknowledgement of his own gratitude. Of course he was grateful for Ella’s state of health but he still had the damage to his marriage undermining his happiness. Was it any wonder it was hard to make amends with Edward?

‘Thank you,’ he said aloud, finally. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t said so before.’

The apology seemed to be accepted but a new silence fell now and everybody was clearly trying to think of a way to break it. It was Abbie who turned her head and seemed to be looking for someone.

‘They’re taking a long time, aren’t they?’

‘Who?’ Edward looked puzzled.

‘Leo and Lizzie. I know they went for photographs but that was ages ago. They should be back by now. Look at all the new arrivals. The breakfast must be due to start.’

‘Oh...didn’t you hear? There was a helicopter waiting for them. Leo whisked Lizzie off to go and visit her parents in Brighton.’

‘Good grief... Really?’

Edward nodded and then shook his head, looking bemused. ‘I’d heard they were too sick to come to the wedding but it does seem a little over the top, doesn’t it?’

Abbie’s smile was tight. ‘He loves her. And what a lovely thought, to let them see their daughter in her beautiful dress.’

It seemed that Abbie was uncomfortable talking about the generous gesture. Defensive even. Did a man have to do something a little outrageous to prove how much he loved his bride?

Had he not done enough?

But the low-key service in the registry office hadn’t been intended to be the only acknowledgement of their marriage, had it? Rafael had had all sorts of plans for a second wedding and honeymoon in Italy that would have been far more meaningful than a showy helicopter ride. If only Ella hadn’t become sick so quickly...

If only...

Edward was looking around, clearly disinterested in discussing the bride’s dress. Someone nodded at him and he moved away, looking somewhat relieved. Mitchell Cooper, the American plastic surgeon, and Declan Underwood, another plastic surgeon, who seemed to be here without dates but enjoying themselves, came past Rafael and Abbie, heading for the bar, and Mitchell winked.

‘The game is to pick which of the guests has been a former client of the Hunter Clinic,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve spotted at least two.’

‘And I’ve spotted the guests of honour returning,’ Abbie said. ‘I’m going to see if I can find where our table is.’

There was no chance of being alone with Abbie for quite some time, Rafael realised. Watching her disappear into the throng of guests, he had to wonder if she would even want that.

That moment of connection with Abbie during the wedding ceremony that had led to them holding hands was well and truly gone now. The conversation with Edward had been a sobering reminder of how far they still had to go. He followed Mitchell towards the bar. His American colleague was probably searching for a Scotch instead of champagne and Rafael had a sudden desire for something a bit stronger himself.

* * *

The group of men at the bar was drawing the attention of every woman in attendance, including those who’d come with partners. And no wonder. Abbie watched them as they raised what looked like glasses of Scotch to toast each other. The dress suits they were all wearing made most men look more attractive but these were already exceptionally good-looking guys.

And Rafael was the best looking of the bunch, as far as she was concerned. His curly dark hair was a little too long, and his features a little sharper than some, but even from a distance she could feel the pull of his Italian passion, the warmth of the fire she knew ran in his blood.

Perhaps she had been too harsh in her reaction to that ultimatum he’d delivered when he’d been so frustrated at not being listened to. Maybe if she understood more about his heritage and the way his male Italian brain worked, she could learn to sort the wheat from the chaff and they could work through their differences, instead of pushing each other away.

Rafael was trying to understand how her brain worked. That had been obvious from his line of questioning during Annabelle’s surgery. What could she do to let him know that she was just as willing to make an effort?

Ethan had joined the other men at the bar and he downed a shot of spirits as though it was some kind of medicine. There were certainly undercurrents here for people other than Rafael and herself.

With a sigh, Abbie slipped into her allocated seat at one of the small tables. The chairs had been cleared from the chequerboard marble floor now and no doubt there would be dancing later. After the food and the speeches. Watching Ethan accept another drink from the bar staff, she had to hope that it wouldn’t affect his ability to give the speech he was expected to make as best man.

There were choices to be made about the food as the courses came round, which Abbie found very difficult. Not because everything didn’t sound absolutely delicious but her appetite seemed to have deserted her. She had to make an effort, though.

‘I think I’ll have the roast Portland scallops with the fresh pea velouté,’ she decided. ‘Whatever a velouté is.’

‘I believe it’s a French word.’ Edward was sharing the table that had been allocated to the de Lucas. ‘It means velvet. It’s a sauce. Usually a white sauce, but I expect this one might be green.’

Abbie’s lips twitched as she caught the twinkle in Edward’s otherwise deadpan expression. There was more to this man than people appreciated, wasn’t there?

‘I’m going to have the Cornish lobster with hand-cut chips,’ Rafael decided, when it came to the main course. ‘Or perhaps the Aberdeen Angus filet steak with beetroot.’

Except he didn’t seem to have any more of an appetite than Abbie did. There was just as much left on his plate as hers when it came time to be cleared away.

The dessert that Abbie chose was to die for. A chocolate fondant with a delectably oozy centre that came with a peach compote and a mascarpone sorbet. The speeches started before she’d taken more than a taste, however, and Abbie stopped and held her breath.

What would Ethan say?

He didn’t seem to be showing any effect from the shots of Scotch he’d been throwing back, but then, his speech was so short it was hard to tell. He said something very complimentary about Lizzie and he wished the couple every happiness and that was it. Except that he finished by thanking his brother, saying that he appreciated the way Leo had always looked out for him.

As dessert plates were cleared away, Leo and Lizzie moved through the tables, stopping to talk to as many people as they could before they started the next part of the evening with their first dance. It was Leo who came to the table where Rafael and Abbie were now sitting alone. Edward had gone to talk to Declan.

‘Thanks for coming.’ Leo smiled. ‘I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.’

‘It’s a beautiful wedding,’ Abbie said. ‘Lizzie looks stunning.’

‘Great speeches, too.’ Rafael grinned. ‘Short. If we were in Italy they’d go on till midnight and nobody would get a chance to dance.’

Abbie hoped the length of the best man’s speech hadn’t been due to the lingering tension between the brothers. ‘It was a nice thing that he said,’ she offered. ‘About you always looking out for him. You must have been an awesome big brother to have.’

Leo’s smile looked wry. ‘Whether he wanted it or not,’ he murmured. ‘It wasn’t always appreciated.’

Abbie raised her eyebrows but Leo didn’t get a chance to answer the silent query. A dramatically glamorous woman, dripping in diamonds, was sailing towards him as gracefully as only an aging prima ballerina could.

‘Leo...darling... You must come with me. Tony and I are dying to talk to you.’ With her arm firmly linked with his, Leo was hustled away.

Abbie had to smile. There would be no prizes for picking her as one of the clinic clients who’d scored an invitation. Everybody knew about Francesca, who had to be in her early seventies now, and had had her first plastic surgeries with Leo and Ethan’s father, James.

And that thought led her back to Leo’s cryptic comment. She turned to Rafael.

‘Whether he wanted it or not? And it wasn’t always appreciated? I wonder what that was about?’

Rafael shrugged. ‘I’ve heard the father was a complete bastard. I suspect being the big brother made life pretty tough for Leo.’

‘He looks happy now.’

‘He just got married to a beautiful woman. Of course he’s happy.’

‘Where’s Ethan?’

‘I saw him heading for the restroom a while back.’

‘So did I.’ Abbie frowned. ‘Was it my imagination or was he limping more than usual?’

Rafael mirrored her frown. ‘Maybe I should go and check that he’s all right.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

They slipped out of the crowd unnoticed because the music had started and Leo was leading Lizzie onto the dance floor.

They found Ethan in a hallway near the restrooms. Leaning against the wall, with his eyes closed, he didn’t see them approach.

‘Are you okay?’ It was Abbie who asked.

Ethan’s eyes snapped open. ‘I’m fine,’ he said.

He didn’t look fine. There were deep lines around his eyes and his skin looked slightly grey. He looked like a man who was dealing with something physically painful.

‘Great speech,’ Rafael said. ‘Well done.’

Ethan gave a noncommittal grunt. ‘I didn’t say much.’

‘Sometimes it doesn’t need much,’ Abbie said. ‘It just needs the right words.’

That brought the ghost of a smile to Ethan’s face. ‘What are you two doing out here, anyway?’ he asked. ‘You should be in there, having a good time.’ His smile twisted a little. ‘Or at least finding the right words.’ He pushed himself off the wall and headed back towards the ballroom. ‘I’m going to find another Scotch.’

Abbie and Rafael looked at each other.

‘Shall we go back?’ Rafael asked. ‘Would you like to dance?’

Abbie shook her head. ‘I think I might have had enough of so many glamorous people. And I’ve certainly had enough champagne.’

Rafael’s face emptied of expression. Was he waiting for her to say that she needed to get back to the hospital? To Ella?

‘You know what I’d really like to do right now?’

‘No. What?’

Abbie reached out and took his hand. Her heart skipped a beat. This was how she could show Rafael how much she wanted to try and fix things.

‘I’d like to go home,’ she whispered. ‘With you.’

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