Isabella looked around the neat but bland room, and shrugged. No magenta in here, thank goodness, but the pale mauve reminded her of an old lady’s room. Still, it was somewhere to put her head down, and give her time to find somewhere to rent. So why the flicker of excitement? Sinking onto the edge of the bed she rubbed her arms through her jacket, and said aloud to prove she wasn’t dreaming it, ‘I’m back in London, in the other country I call home.’ Her mother came from the Lake District and she’d only visited her relatives once last time she lived here. The welcome mat had been in storage that day, something to do with her mother marrying a New Zealander instead of the lord of whatever they’d planned on having as a son-in-law, and Isabella being the offspring of someone less desirable, despite her father’s mega career in the Foreign Service, hadn’t changed their attitude. They should’ve got over it by now, but it seemed some things weren’t meant to be, and she’d quietly headed away, deflated but resolute she wasn’t going to beg for recognition.
‘I’m glad. For both of us.’
Hadn’t heard Raphael returning with another case, had she? Blinking, she looked up into the steady but shocked gaze coming her way. Why shocked? He hadn’t expected to feel glad she was staying with him? No. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t want her here. Or would he these days? ‘I made the right call. Thanks for letting me know about the job.’ She couldn’t wait to start. It would be a bonus working alongside Raphael. Another was the girls were also all working at the same hospital.
‘Aucun problème. Now, there’s a bathroom on the floor below. It’s all yours as I’ve got an en suite bathroom attached to my bedroom. Help yourself to anything you want. The kitchen pantry’s full and the freezer’s holding some of your favourite fish.’
‘A shower’s what I need. And some clean clothes.’ She sniffed her jacket and grimaced. ‘Yuck. Long-haul travel has its own peculiar smell.’
He flinched, looked away. ‘Take as long as you need. We’re only going along the road for a drink and a bite to eat.’
Despite his reaction, that sounded so normal she laughed. This was what she’d come for. Normal. Whatever that was. At the moment everything felt right. Especially being with Raphael, knowing he’d never hurt her, no matter how far either of them pushed the boundaries of their friendship. Yes, packing up and coming here was a good move. Better than good; it was great, and filled with promise.
Believe it.
Yet she didn’t feel quite normal with him. Yet. Still to come?
CHAPTER THREE
‘HERE’S TO LONDON and your new job, and catching up with special friends.’ Raphael held up his glass to tap Isabella’s, just as loud laughter broke out further along the bar. ‘Also to sorting out what’s putting that sad look in your eyes whenever you think I’m not looking.’
Ignoring that last comment, Isabella tapped back. ‘To spending time with you.’ Except he’d already warned her he wouldn’t be on tap all the time. They’d both opted to stick to soft drinks. She was wired. And exhausted. Even a little excited. Throw in worry about a whole heap of things she couldn’t deal with right now, and she had the whole picture really. The trip in from the airport had touched her in an unexpected way. While it had felt like coming home, maybe being with Raphael was the reason. They understood each other so well, despite the awkward subjects they hadn’t shared over the years. Cassie, the love of his life; and her truth about her marriage. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed his sharp remarks, though lately they seemed too sharp.
‘Good luck with that. I struggle to find time to spend with myself.’ His grin was lopsided and a little tight.
‘Sounds like you need to find a life.’ What was wrong? He wasn’t known to forego having fun during his downtime, despite the serious side to the man who cared deeply for people worse off than himself.
‘I bet you’re about to sort me out,’ he grumped. Then his grin became genuine. ‘This could be a win-win for both of us. I could do with a kick up the backside.’
‘Thanks for putting me up at short notice. I’ll get on to other rental agencies ASAP.’
If I can’t stay with you long term.
She choked. Stay with Raphael permanently? Where had that come from? So what was wrong with the idea? How about because they were friends? Sure, friends often shared accommodation, but she and Raphael had never lived in each other’s pockets. Not even that time they’d worked together in Tours.
‘No problem.’ Raphael was suddenly intensely focused on the bar counter, his hands twirling his glass back and forth.
‘I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible.’
I’ve only just got here, and I want to spend time with you. Need to, if I’m being honest, so that I can untangle the mess I’ve made of things by talking it out and then get on with living in London.
So she could get over this sensation of wanting more with him. Raphael usually kept her grounded. Today she was confused. Here was the reliable, helpful, caring Raphael she knew, and yet there was more. A deeper feeling that wanted to push hard at the walls, let him in in a new way. Into her heart. Her glass banged down on the counter. No. No way. She’d only let him down, and hurting him was not happening on her watch. Grabbing her glass again, she gulped down her drink.
Raphael had returned to watching her. ‘Take your time. You’ve only just arrived.’ His hand covered hers.
Whipping her hand away, she looked around the pub, frantically trying to still the wild thudding behind her ribs. ‘Sure,’ she muttered. This was not them. Glancing back at him, her heart did a funny little dance, while her eyes began tearing up. Rafe looked beyond stunning. He always had, yet she’d never really seen him as other women did. He was her friend. Nothing had changed. So why notice the stubble on his chin? Stubble was stubble, right? Or was it? Her palm itched. Reality check. Something had changed. Now she needed to focus on putting things back the way they used to be or move out of his house tomorrow. London Bridge was looking good.
‘You cooked any French cuisine lately?’ The question wasn’t light-hearted. Was Rafe feeling her tension?
‘Not really.’ Darren had refused to eat anything he thought remotely French, all because of Raphael. So childish, but to keep the peace she’d thrown out the French recipe books and stuck with the boring basics: roasts, steak, sausages.
‘We’ll have to remedy that. Can’t have you forgetting how to make a good béarnaise sauce.’
When she looked at Raphael she found a smile that held nothing back coming her way. Her stomach squeezed, while her heart filled with relief, returned to normal. See? Everything was fine. Time apart hadn’t affected her perception of their friendship. It was the tiredness tripping her up, making her look at things differently. Today they were a little off centre, but that could be because she was now an ex-married woman he didn’t know as well as he used to when she was single. ‘Last time I saw you was in the bar further down this road. You’d put an offer in on a house and we were celebrating early because I wouldn’t be around when the sale went through.’ They’d also been toasting her moving back to New Zealand with her husband, though thinking back she remembered Raphael hadn’t been too enthused about that. What she hadn’t realised at the time: she was probably as much at fault as Darren. Which went to show she was utterly hopeless at relationships, not having had much experience other than snatching at friendships as and when they presented, because who knew how long she’d be staying around. Better keep that in mind if those odd feelings for Raphael returned.
‘Oui.’
‘You got drunk, and I had to get you home in a cab before you passed out.’
He winced. ‘Sometimes your memory’s too good.’
‘What was that about anyway?’ Rafe didn’t do drunk, or drinking less than sensibly. Or very rarely and then only when something had gone horribly wrong for him.
‘Can’t remember.’ He was loo
king everywhere but at her. ‘Ah, here come the chips I ordered.’
Okay, the avoidance game. She should demand to know what he wasn’t telling her, but she didn’t want to spoil the rest of the evening. Past experience told her she’d eventually win, but she didn’t have it in her tonight to do the hard grind to get there. Then she got a whiff of hot chips and relaxed. ‘Yum. It’s great to be catching up.’
That was the truth, no matter what else she might be feeling. Her legs were aching and her head filling with wool. But then she was starting over on the other side of the world to where she’d been two days ago, and for the first time ever, it was scary. Until now everything had been about making sure she had people with her, by her, there for her. After impulsively accepting the job at the Queen Victoria she’d then sat down and thought it through, and realised how tired of moving from one opportunity to the next she was. The Cambodian experience had shaken her, made her see how strong and enduring families could be for each other. It had made her understand she had to believe in herself before asking anyone else to. She couldn’t keep winging it with any relationships. This move had to have a finality about it, and she’d go it alone so that eventually she might find herself equipped to give as much back as she needed for herself. More, in fact.
‘Want another drink?’ Rafe had the barman’s attention. ‘Izzy?’
Shaking away the questions filtering through the fog in her head, she pushed her drink aside. ‘Can I have a water, please?’ She studied Raphael for a moment. The gangly teen she’d first met had grown into a lean, muscular man with a face that said Trust me. A striking face that other women said made them think bed every time. Her stomach squeezed again, harder this time, showing how concerned she was becoming about him. Something wasn’t adding up. Nothing to do with bed.
‘You seeing anyone at the moment?’ The question was out before she thought it through, but since when did she have to hesitate over asking him anything? He mightn’t always be happy with her nosiness, or even give her an answer, but never had he made her uncomfortable over voicing what she wanted to find out. No idea why it felt so important to know where he was at with women, but it did, and she’d acted on those feelings. Being left in the dark was never an option. Knowing what was going on around her meant always being on top of problems before they erupted. Except when it came to her marriage. Then she’d been scared to face the truth, to accept she’d made a monumental mistake.
‘Moi?’ He tapped his chest, mock shock on his face. ‘This is Raphael Dubois you are asking.’
‘Yes, you, Rafe.’ Good-looking men didn’t hang around being single for ever, especially doctors in a hospital filled with females of all ages. He’d had his share of women. She knew because he’d talked about them sometimes. Never a derogatory word, always admiration, along with the old wariness about relationships and not trusting they’d last for ever.
His shock was replaced with genuine resignation. ‘No. Nobody serious and usually nobody at all.’
She sat up straighter and reached for her glass, took a mouthful. Definitely something out of whack. She’d give him a break from the quiz. ‘Tell me about my new job. Anyone I might know on the ward?’
‘Not that I’m aware of. Your girlfriends work in different areas, none on the maternity ward, but I guess you know that.’
‘The emails have been flying back and forth. Carly’s wedding is so close. Everyone’s excited about that.’ Now she had something genuine to grin about. ‘Which reminds me. Do you want to come with me? The invitation is for Isabella and partner. You’ll have to sit alone during the ceremony since I’m going to be a bridesmaid.’ Once it was definite she’d be here for the wedding, Carly had insisted.
‘No one else to invite?’ He was smiling at her but there was a slight hitch in his voice.
‘I want you to come. Otherwise I’ll go on my own,’ she added for good measure. Could be sounding pushy, because she didn’t want to turn up at her friend’s wedding without someone at her side. The other three girls were all loved up, and she’d only feel lonelier than ever. The odd one out. Unless Raphael was with her.
‘Count me in, unless I’m on call that weekend. What’s the date?’ When she told him he scrolled through his diary. ‘Free all weekend.’