Chapter 47
HARPER
Ileave the bedroom and am greeted by the rich smell of garlic and herbs.
“Something smells good,” I say, stepping into the living area.
Alex is standing in my tiny kitchen, wearing my apron.
He turns with a teaspoon of whatever sauce he’s created ready for me to taste.
I open my mouth, and he feeds it to me. My heart somersaults at his closeness.
“Wow! That’s a lot better than passable,” I say as the rich flavours explode on my tongue.
He grins, looking relaxed and carefree, and warmth unfurls through me.
I don’t remember a time when anyone outside my family has stopped to take care of me.
“I wasn’t altogether honest,” he says. “Edoardo would disown my siblings and me if we couldn’t at least produce a half-palatable Italian dish. When he found out I was learning to cook, he stepped in.”
“Fair enough. You were obviously a quick study.”
His face twists. “It took a few attempts. Elaine, our cook, was less than impressed when she saw what I’d done to her kitchen and pans.”
I grimace and laugh.
How’s he doing this? Making me laugh, distracting me?
I hand him the plates, then take some knives and forks from the drawer and carry them to my tiny table, careful not to brush against him.
“I don’t have any wine.”
“Not a problem, I’m good with water.”
I pour us both a glass, adding some leftover lemon and ice from the freezer.
He retrieves the plates and dishes up.
“This looks amazing,” I say, keeping my voice light and chipper.
“Tuck in,” he says, picking up his knife and fork.
We eat in silence.
When we’ve finished, I sit back, resting a hand on my full stomach.
“Thank you. You really didn’t need to do all this,” I say, before adding quickly, “not that I don’t appreciate it.”
He leans back in his chair.
“When you wouldn’t let me call Mother, I was worried you might not have anyone…” He trails off. “Is there someone else I could call? A friend, boyfriend?”
I shake my head. He must think I’m such a sad case.
“You’re right, I don’t,” I admit. “Not outside the office anyway, and I’m not great at sharing my…”
He holds up a hand. “You don’t need to explain. The guy opposite, the one who popped his head out when I arrived?”
Dan won’t be happy he was spotted.
“He’s one of my neighbours. He and his friend live together. They look out for me. They know I’m a woman on my own, and they both have daughters my age,” I add quickly, not wanting Dan and Mitch to sound like creeps.
“I’m glad. This isn’t a bad neighbourhood, but having someone to watch out for you in a big city is good.”
The conversation falls quiet.
I bite my lip, my vision blurring.
Shit. The loneliness I’ve tried to ignore for the past few months presses in on me. I’ve never been away from my family for this long. I miss them and all their quirks.
“Hey,” he says, resting a hand over mine and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I never realised how hard it would be leaving everyone behind.”
“Brooke, I know it’s a crazy time, but honestly, if you need to go home to your family you just need to say. I’m flying out to London Fashion Week with Enzo and Mother. We can get you on the flight.”
My heart skips a beat.
If only.
I turn my hand over under his and squeeze back.
This should be awkward. My boss is holding my hand, stirring memories of being held against him earlier and the way he comforted me.
“I know I keep saying it but thank you. You don’t know what it means to have you say that, but Mum says Kat will be fine. I’ll arrange a trip back in a couple of weeks when things have calmed down,” I lie.
He nods, withdrawing his hand.
“That was your mum on the phone?”
“Kat’s still in surgery. She’s going to call when she’s out.”
“Well, let’s get this cleared up, and then we can find something to do until they call.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
“Do you have any board games?” he asks, and I’m glad he’s turned away.
“Er, no. I have a pack of cards. Do you play poker?”
“You play poker?”
I chuckle. “My older brother and his friends played while I was growing up. Little sister, watching and learning in the background.”
Alex inclines his head. “Did you do that a lot? Watch and listen?”
“Taught me everything I know,” I say.
“What’s the age gap?”
I think back to the details The Seamstress gave me, but I decide to tell the truth.
“Seven between me and the next youngest, and thirteen between me and the eldest. I was the bonus baby my parents weren’t expecting.”
He doesn’t press me for more details. Instead, we continue to clean up the dinner in silence.
Once everything has been put away, we move to the sofa.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say.
“Are you trying to get rid of me, or are you afraid to play me at poker?”
His eyes sparkle, but I can’t miss the question in them.
“I just don’t want you to feel you have to babysit me. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Let me make one thing clear. I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. I’m thirty-nine years old, and I’m way past people-pleasing, although I’m not sure that was ever in my MO. Therefore, if you want me to leave, you have to tell me. If not…it’s poker.”
“Poker it is…”