Page 57 of 2 Books in One Bundle

She went on with her checks and Connie just lay there inertly. When the nurse had finished, she looked down at Connie.

‘Your husband’sverykeen to come in and see you—do you think you’re up to it?’

Connie’s stomach hollowed.

‘No,’ she said.

She shut her eyes, the lids suddenly as heavy as lead, and sleep took her. A blessed relief.

Dante was pacing. Pacing up and down the wide, carpeted corridor outside Connie’s room. He’d had her moved to the private wing of the hospital, into a room of her own.

Further down the corridor, in a wide area that was provided with comfortable chairs, Rafaello was seated, reading one of the newspapers provided. He was still as calm as Dante was agitatedly restless.

‘The doctors say she is fine, Dante,’ he said, and not for the first time. ‘She was concussed, but the scans are clear. She needs rest, and observation, and some pain meds.’

Dante ignored him. He went back to pacing. Up, and then down. Up and then down.

Connie, so close, just the other side of a door, might as well have been on the far side of the moon.

Connie was sitting up. She felt frail, but that was all. She was on painkillers, still wired up so the medics could check her blood oxygen and whatever else they wanted to keep an eye on, but other than that she was OK.

Or so they kept telling her.

It was a lie, of course.

How could she be OK?

How can I be OK ever again?

The nurse finished her latest round of checks and readings, then smiled brightly at Connie.

‘If I don’t let that husband of yours in soon,’ she said, ‘he’s likely to tear the door off its hinges! Can I let him in, finally?’

Connie shut her eyes, the way she had last time, but this time blessed sleep did not come to her rescue.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ said the nurse. And there was more than a touch of humour in her voice as she said, heading towards the door, ‘I can tell you now: if I had a husband who looked like that I’d have him right in here holding my hand!’

She gave an extravagant sigh and went out.

Connie heard her saying, ‘You can go in now, Mr Cavelli. But not for very long. Your wife is still very tired.’

Connie heard the deep sound of Dante’s voice answering the nurse, and then he was thrusting open the door and striding in. But she was busy—very busy—keeping her eyes tight shut.

She felt his shadow fall over her, felt his presence. Heard him speak her name. His voice was low, strained, hesitant. Not the harsh anger that she had been expecting.

‘How...how are you feeling?’

She wanted to keep her eyes closed. Wanted sleep to claim her, or oblivion in any form, but knew she could not avoid him for ever.

She opened her eyes and he was there, in her vision instantly. Standing by her bed, so tall and so dark against the light.

‘We...we have to talk,’ she heard him say.

His voice was still quiet and a little hoarse. His face worked, and she saw emotion flashing across it. Incomprehension.

‘Connie—whydid you leave me? Leave me when you did?’

Her eyes slid away from him. It was impossible to tell him the truth.

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