‘What? What?’ I focus through the haze to see my mother staring down at me.
‘I brought you a cappuccino. You look like you need it.’
I catch a waft of it on the air and it wakes up my sluggish senses. I grumble a thank you and push myself up to sitting, reaching for the cup. I breathe the scent in and feel my mother’s eyes on me.
‘What is it?’
‘Dani called me,’ she says softly. ‘She’s worried about you.’
‘I think she’s more worried about Faye.’
‘She’s worried about the two of you.’
I take a sip of the coffee, appreciating its familiar taste, the hit of caffeine.
‘She also suggested we talk. About the past, not just Faye.’
I look at my mother and my conversations with Faye come back to me—her gentle encouragement to do just this, her crystal blue eyes warm with her compassion, her understanding... My throat closes over. I miss her. I miss her so goddamned much.
‘Let me shower.’ It’s gruff, my voice unrecognisable even to me. ‘Then we’ll talk.’
‘Bene.’
And maybe, just maybe, I can make sense of the way I feel because one thing’s for sure: I can’t go on like this. I can’t.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT’S BEEN TWO weeks since I returned from Tuscany. Two weeks, and I’m walking through life like a zombie. If I don’t pull myself together soon, I’m going to have bigger things to worry about than a broken heart. The career I worked so hard for will be on the line.
Last week I slept through my alarm and missed the start of a crucial debrief. Yesterday I managed to present the sales and marketing strategy for the coming year wearing my blouse inside out, and today the CEO pulled me aside with a very concerned frown and asked if I was okay, suggested I should maybe take another holiday, in the hope I’d come back like me again.
I cringe even now as I sit on my sofa and stuff another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth, trying to forget. But even dreamy cookies and cream has lost its ability to make everything feel okay.
This whole situation is ridiculous. I knew him for one week. One week. And now my entire life has been turned on its head. Even my house is starting to look as though it’s been taken over by a bunch of youths who don’t know how to clean up after themselves.
This isn’t me. It’s not.
I stare at the half-empty pizza box and the greasy slices I couldn’t bring myself to finish and realise the truth. It is me. And I did fall in love. I do have a broken heart.
But...
I had an incredible week. My eyes were opened wide to the passion that’s possible with the right man. And Rafael was almost that man. Almost.
And if I had my time over, I’d do it all again. Even with the pain of now.
I slap the lid back on the ice-cream carton and head to the kitchen. No more feeling sorry for myself. I need to get back in control of my life, my heart, the whole damn lot.
The doorbell goes, as though rejoicing with me, and I check the time. It’s nine in the evening. Who could possibly want to call by at such a late hour? Dad wouldn’t. My friends would text first. Cold caller? Th
is late?
It rings again and I’m already walking towards it, ice-cream pot still in hand as I pull the door open with the other. I blink. Blink again. It can’t be... It can’t...
‘Rafael?’
He’s as grey as the rainy backdrop of Chelsea behind him, water beading in his hair, on his lashes, but it’s him—definitely him.
‘Faye.’ His eyes flicker as he sucks in a breath and wets his lips. ‘Can I come in, please?’