led her into the restaurant. It was a while before they were alone again. The waiter brought drinks and discussed the menu and the day’s specials and then reappeared with warmed olives and freshly baked bread and a tiny dish of extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar, before discreetly moving away to leave them in their intimate corner.
Luca raised his glass to Bronte. ‘Here’s to new beginnings.’
Bronte’s hand shook as she touched her glass against his. ‘To… to new beginnings.’
The silence fell like a thick suffocating blanket.
Bronte could barely breathe as each second passed. The restaurant noise of dishes and cutlery and glassware faded and her ears filled with a roaring sound of impending doom. Outside, a loud crack of thunder sounded, making her flinch and almost spill her glass of wine.
‘Hey.’ Luca took her free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Are you OK? Is the storm bothering you? Are you frightened of them?’
Bronte shook her head. ‘No, not really.’
He studied her for a moment. ‘You seem really on edge, cara. You don’t need to be. Just relax. We’re just two friends having dinner, remember? I’m not going to put the hard word on you at the end of the evening. We can take things as they go. No pressure, OK?’
Bronte felt sick with nerves. There was no easy way to say what she had to say. She had only made things worse by leaving it this late. She should have told him as soon as he saw the photos of Ella. Why had she made it so hard for herself by dragging it out so torturously? She took a large sip of wine to garner her flagging courage. The crisp dry wine moistened her dry throat but the shot of alcohol did nothing to settle her frazzled and frayed nerves. ‘Luca,’ she began, ‘I have something to tell you.’
‘Don’t say you don’t want to see me again,’ he said before she could continue. ‘We both know that is not the case. I know I stuffed things up before but I want to make it up to you. I think we have something special, Bronte. I think it could work if we just give it a try.’
Bronte toyed with the stem of her wine glass. ‘Are you saying you… you have feelings for me?’
His small smile was enigmatic. ‘You wouldn’t be sitting here with me now if I didn’t feel something. As to exactly what it is, well, isn’t it a bit early to be talking about that?’
She ran her finger around the base of her glass this time, her eyes falling away from his. ‘I’m not sure how to tell you this, Luca. I never thought I would be in this situation.’ Her heart felt as if it was weighted. It ached with a bittersweet pain that made her want to break down and cry for how unfair life was. She had longed for him to give her some clue of his feelings in the past and yet, now he had, she was about to destroy them, she was sure.
She looked up and met his gaze across the table. ‘When you left me in London I was devastated. I know you never promised me anything. I know I was much more in love with you than you were ever going to be with me. You never said what you felt. I know a lot of men are like that. Most of my friends experienced the same frustration of never knowing what the man they were dating felt about them. To be frank, sometimes I thought you didn’t even like me, that you were just there for the sex. You seemed to give me so many mixed signals. We were all set for a date and then you would suddenly cancel half an hour before. And then you were grumpy and difficult one day and yet charming and attentive the next. I never knew where I stood with you, but I tried to be patient because I loved you so much.’
Luca reached for her hand again, lacing his fingers with hers. ‘Back then, I wasn’t in the position to offer you the sort of commitment you wanted, Bronte. I know that’s not much of an explanation but I’d rather not go into the reasons why I acted the way I did. It’s not relevant to here and now. All that matters is we are together again and both committed to working at what we had before. We’ve been given a second chance. Let’s not blow it. Let’s work on getting to know who we each are now, not who we were back then.’
Bronte looked down at their joined hands and let a few more seconds thrum pass. It was like waiting for a bomb to go off, watching the timer countdown second by agonising second and being able to do nothing to stop it. She knew once she said the words nothing would ever be the same. She slowly raised her eyes to his, her aching throat going up and down over a convulsive swallow.
‘Bronte!’ A female voice spoke from behind her in the restaurant.
Bronte pulled her hand out of Luca’s and turned in her seat as one of the young mothers from the studio approached the table, her husband in tow. It took Bronte a moment to gather herself and she worried that her smile might not have seemed wholly genuine. ‘Hi, Judy… hi, Dan.’
Judy waggled her brows expressively as she glanced at Luca before returning her gaze to Bronte’s. ‘So… who’s your date?’
‘Um… sorry,’ Bronte said. ‘Judy, Dan, this is Luca Sabbatini. Luca, Judy and Dan’s daughter Matilda does ballet at the studio.’
Luca rose and politely shook the couple’s hands. ‘I’m delighted to meet you both,’ he said, smiling that killer smile.
Bronte saw the way Judy’s knees practically buckled. ‘Lovely to meet you, Luca,’ Judy said. ‘Wow, Bronte’s been keeping you a big secret. How long have you known her?’
‘We met a couple of years ago in London,’ Luca said.
‘You’re here for work, aren’t you?’ Judy’s husband Dan asked. ‘I’m an architect. The firm I work for are bidding for the contract for your hotel development.’
‘Give me your business card,’ Luca said, reaching into his jacket pocket for one of his own and handing it to Dan. ‘I would be happy to look over your proposal with you. I have a temporary office in the city. My secretary will tee up a time for you to come in and have a chat.’
‘That’s very good of you, Luca,’ Dan said, beaming.
‘Does your daughter enjoy her ballet dancing?’ Luca asked after a tiny silence.
‘Oh, yes,’ Judy gushed. ‘She’s mad about it, has been since she was Ruby’s age. That’s our other daughter, the baby. Well, not so much a baby now but we always call her that. They seem to grow up so fast. She’s the same age as Ella. That’s how Bronte and I met. It was in hospital having our babies, wasn’t it, Bronte?’
Bronte nodded, barely able to get her voice to work. ‘Um… yes.’
Judy prattled on, ‘Ella and Ruby have the same birthday. They were born at exactly the same hour. Isn’t that the most amazing coincidence?’
There was a split second as Bronte watched helplessly as the pin was finally pulled out of the grenade.
Judy said, ‘They were both born on the fourth of July last year, Independence Day. And at fourteen months old they are both headstrong and independent, aren’t they, Bronte?’
CHAPTER SIX
‘Y-YES,’ Bronte said lamely. ‘They are…’
Judy smiled up at her husband. ‘I guess we should get going to our table. It’s our anniversary.’ She turned back to Bronte and Luca, who hadn’t said a word, nor moved a muscle. ‘Lovely to meet you, Luca. I hope
