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…’
‘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
