She nodded, not trusting her voice to come out without a break in it. He wasn’t just doing this for his nephew; he was doing it for Jamie as well. Somehow she found that particularly touching.
‘I will need to give Marietta the keys to your flat,’ he said, passing her a piece of paper and a pen. ‘Jot down what you think you will need for the next six weeks and she and Salvatore will sort it out this evening.’
Keira gripped the pen and tried to think about what she would need in order to play the role of reconciled wife but it was difficult to concentrate with him sitting so close. The air circulating between them held a faint trace of his lemon-scented aftershave, which made her feel as if he were touching her in a vicarious way. She was breathing him in, breath by ragged breath, and it disturbed her deeply.
‘I think we should have dinner together tonight,’ he said once she’d passed him the list and her keys. ‘It will give credence to our announcement to the press.’
Keira looked down at her paint-splattered clothes. ‘I need to get changed…’
‘There are still some of your clothes at my house.’
Her eyes came up to meet his. ‘You mean you haven’t thrown them all out?’
He gave her one of his unreadable looks. ‘Marietta insisted they were to stay in the wardrobe until the divorce was finalised. I think she has always hoped you would come back.’
She looked down at her hands again. ‘Did you tell her you wouldn’t have me back?’ she asked.
It seemed a long time before he answered. Keira could hear the clock on the wall behind her counting out the seconds; they seemed to be out of time with her thumping heart.
‘I told her what we had was well and truly over,’ he said. ‘I did not discuss the details with her or with anyone, although she could hardly have avoided hearing about it in the press. The journalists are still having a field day with it, no doubt because of your father’s bid for the Senate.’
Keira knew she should be feeling grateful that he hadn’t revealed the sordid details of her betrayal with all and sundry. He had had every right to do so—what she had done had been unforgivable. She could only assume that he had remained silent out of a sense of male pride. He would deem it below him to reveal the particulars of his private life, although she couldn’t help wondering why he had all those magazines in the waiting room. Perhaps, like the wedding photo on his desk, he wanted to remind himself of how he had been let down by someone he had once trusted and loved.
He passed the phone to her. ‘I think you should call your brother at school,’ he said. ‘It would be better for him to hear it from you rather than read it in the papers tomorrow.’
Keira stared at the phone in her hands. Could she lie convincingly to her younger brother? Although eight years separated them, she and Jamie had always been exceptionally close.
She pressed the numbers and waited for him to pick up his mobile.
‘Hello?’
‘Jamie, it’s me, Keira.’
‘Hi, Keira, how are you doing? How are the paintings going for the exhibition?’
‘Not so bad,’ she said, trying to lift her tone. ‘How are you?’
There was a tiny pause.
‘OK, I guess…’
‘Jamie,’ she began, ‘I have something to tell you.’
‘You’re not going to marry Garth Merrick, are you?’ he asked, the edge of panic unmistakable in his tone.
Keira had to turn away from the quirked-brow look Patrizio sent her as her brother’s voice carried across the room. ‘No, of course not. We’re just…friends.’
‘What is it, then?’
She took a calming breath. ‘Patrizio and I have decided to get back togeth
er,’ she said, mentally crossing her fingers that he would buy it.
‘The divorce is off?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The divorce is off.’
‘Wow, Keira, that’s great!’ he said excitedly. ‘What brought this about?’