“Bronte!” Alice stood up as they approached, bustling towards her sister. “I barely saw you last night. Where did you disappear to?”
Bronte floundered.
“That was my fault, I’m sorry. I had something urgent to deal with.” Luca came to her rescue, dropping his hand from her hip and instead lacing their fingers together. “I’m useless without Bronte.”
“Oh.” Alice looked sideways, her smile infectious. “Mum mentioned you. How fascinating.” She held out a hand. “I’m Alice Hill.”
“Soon to be Alice Ashford,” Bronte reminded her.
“Yes, as of tomorrow.” Alice grinned. “And you’re Luca Montebello.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“You’re involved?”
Alice gestured from one to the other.
“Evidently,” Luca drawled, squeezing Bronte’s hand.
“Excellent.” Alice’s happiness was obviously genuine. “I’m thrilled to hear it. Come, come join us.”
It wasn’t as though Bronte had any doubts, but seeing Luca with her family during breakfast was a crash course in charm. He got on like a house on fire with Alice’s fiancé Edward and Bronte’s father Charles, and it was obvious Clara thought he was just about the best thing since sliced bread. It was Alice though who kept shooting Bronte little looks and kicking her under the table, teasing her in the time honoured tradition of older sisters everywhere. At one point, as the plates were being cleared, and Luca was explaining to Charles how to make perfect gnocchi so that Bronte was trying to get the image out of her head of Luca in an apron rolling tiny potato pasta parcels, Alice shifted in her seat, leaning closer to Bronte.
“He’s dreamy.”
Bronte’s heart lurched. She hated lying to her sister. Then again, Luca was dreamy. That was fact, not a lie, so she nodded. “I know.”
“How long has this been –,”
“Not long.” Bronte lifted her coffee cup so she could use it for cover, placing it in front of her face.
“Why haven’t you mentioned anything?” Alice pushed.
“Well, you’ve been so busy with the wedding…”
“Never too busy for news like this!” Alice responded with mock offence. Then, leaning even closer, and lowering her voice to a gentle whisper. “You’re my sister and I’ve been worried about you. I know Ashton did a number on you.”
Alice’s eyes slid across the restaurant and Bronte turned, following her sister’s gaze until it landed squarely on her ex. He was reading the newspaper, The Guardian, Bronte guessed, and his new girlfriend was sitting opposite him, slowly scrolling through the screen of her phone. It was just a small snapshot into their life but it brought a cynical smile to Bronte’s face, because there was nothing particularly exciting about their breakfast. In fact, it looked just as mundane and ordinary as the kinds of breakfasts they used to share, each taking turns with the various sections of the paper.
As Bronte turned back to her sister, her eyes collided with Luca’s. He’d been watching her, his expression – briefly – grim. But then he smiled and turned back to Charles and it was as though the moment had never happened, except for the tell tale way Bronte’s pulse hammered into overdrive.
“Yes, he did,” Bronte agreed slowly.
“I’m so sorry we had to invite him. Awful, hateful man.”
Bronte’s eyes flew wide. “He’s your friend.”
She recoiled. “He’s Edward’s friend, not mine. And I’m sure he’d have cut ties altogether if it weren’t for the awkward thing of mum and Ashton’s mum, and all that history. I’m just glad you have Luca here. What a way to rub his nose in it!”
Bronte’s cheeks glowed bright pink. She took a sip of coffee to save from answering, honing in on Luca’s conversation just as Charles and Edward were extending the invitation to him to join them in a round of golf.
“Oh, that’s kind, dad, but Luca’s got to work, I’m sure.”
Luca threw her a look that only she could have understood was lightly mocking. “That’s fine. I can take a day.”
“A day off?” She responded, surprised by that. Luca worked harder than just about anyone she knew, and given that she worked for the Montebellos, that was saying something.
“I’m partial to golf.”