He reappeared in the department hours later, after Alessandro had dealt with what felt like a million road accidents, intermingled with a significant number of people with flu.
‘Why don’t people stay in bed when they have flu?’ he grumbled as Jake appeared in the doorway of his office. ‘For a start, if they can get out of bed then it isn’t flu and it certainly isn’t an accident or an emergency. Why come to a hospital and spread it around?’
‘Because they’re generous?’ Jake strolled into the office and dropped onto the nearest chair without even bothering to move the pile of files that were covering it. ‘Hell, I’m knackered. I’ve spent the whole day in Theatre saving lives. One drama after another. You don’t know you’re born, working down here.’
Alessandro thought of the two major RTAs, the heart attack and the sickle-cell crisis he’d dealt with since lunchtime. And the only way he’d known it had been lunchtime had been because he’d looked at the clock on the wall. He hadn’t eaten for hours. ‘That’s right. I spend my life sitting on my backside.’
‘Backside?’ Jake grinned. ‘That doesn’t sound like a particularly Spanish word, amigo.’
Feeling tired and bad-tempered, Alessandro scowled at him. ‘Haven’t you got anything better to do with your time than sit in my office, moaning?’
‘Actually, I came down to see if you fancy grabbing a couple of beers after work. I have a feeling that our problems are nothing that alcohol can’t fix.’
Alessandro pulled a face. ‘Not tonight.’
Jake yawned. ‘You working late?’
‘I’m cleaning up the house.’ Alessandro felt the tension rise inside him. ‘Christy and the kids are arriving tomorrow for Christmas. I need to throw out four months’ worth of take-away cartons and fill the fridge with broccoli or she’ll hit the roof. You know Christy and her obsession with nutrition.’
Jake stared, his blue eyes suddenly keen and interested. ‘You guys are back together?’
‘No. We’re not back together.’ Alessandro all but snapped the words out, his anger suddenly so close to the surface that his fingers tightened on the pencil he was holding and broke it in two. ‘We’re spending Christmas in the same house for the sake of the kids.’
‘I see.’ Jake’s eyes rested on the broken pencil, his expression thoughtful. ‘Well, that promises to be a peaceful Christmas, then. Better warn Santa to wear his flak jacket when he flies over your barn. Wouldn’t want him to be caught in flying shrapnel as you two tear bits off each other.’
Alessandro thought about all the occasions he’d seen Christy in the last six weeks. Brief occasions when they’d handed over the children. They’d barely spoken, let alone rowed. ‘It isn’t like that any more.’ Christmas promised to be as icy cold as the weather and Alessandro was suddenly struck by inspiration. ‘Why don’t you join us? You’re their godfather.’
Jake nodded. ‘I might do that if I can drag myself away from the irresistible lure of this place. You know how I am with cold hospital turkey and lumpy gravy. I’ve been trying to break myself of the addiction for years.’ He stretched his legs out in front of him. ‘You know, about this thing that’s going on with you and Christy—’
‘There’s nothing going on. We’re separated and that’s all there is to it. And I don’t want to talk about it.’ Alessandro’s gaze was shuttered and Jake sighed.
‘I just hate to see the two of you like this. You’re my best friends and if anyone was ever meant to be together, it’s you two. You should hang onto what you’ve got. It’s hard enough finding anyone you get on vaguely well with in this world. Christy was crazy about you, right from day one. And you were crazy about her. I remember the day you guys met—’
‘I said, I don’t want to talk about it,’ Alessandro said coldly, his dark eyes stormy and threatening as he rose to his feet and paced over to the window, angry with Jake for stirring up memories that he’d spent ages trying to bury. How could he ever forget the day he’d first met Christy?
He stared out of the window. Outside, snow lay thick on the ground, disguising the usually familiar landscape. In the distance the fells rose. He studied their familiar jagged lines and then turned, his volatile Mediterranean temper bubbling to the surface. ‘She left me.’
‘I know.’ Jake’s voice was soft. ‘I wonder why she felt she had to do that?’
Alessandro’s jaw tensed. ‘If you’re implying that any of this is my fault, you’re wrong.’
‘Christy adores you. She’s crazy about you and always has been. If she left you, she must have been desperate,’ Jake said quietly. ‘She must have felt there was no other way to get through to you.’
‘That’s ridiculous. She could have talked to me.’
Jake’s expression was inscrutable. ‘Could she? Did you make yourself available?’
Alessandro sucked in a frustrated breath. ‘How could we talk when she left me?’ He sounded impossibly Spanish and Jake gave a wry smile.
‘So is that what this is all about?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Pride? She was the one to walk away from you so you’re not going to go after her? Why did she leave you, Al?’ Jake’s voice was calm as he rose to his feet. ‘Try asking yourself that question while you’re binning take-away cartons.’
And with that parting shot he left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.
* * *
Christy had changed her clothes a dozen times and in the end settled on a pencil skirt, a pair of heels and a blue jumper in the softest cashmere, which she’d bought in a small shop on the King’s Road to cheer herself up. It hadn’t worked, but she knew she looked good in it. And she wanted to remind Alessandro what he was missing. Not that she wanted them to get back together again, she told herself hastily, because she didn’t. Oh, no. She wasn’t that stupid.
Obviously