"I lost track of my brother."
Francesca hadn't needed to admit that; it was obvious.
She glared disapprovingly at a young man who had hurriedly moved to allow her to sit down in a crowded cafe in the city, but as infuriating as she found it, she still took the seat.
She picked at the cuff of one of her sleeves, waiting for Jonas to get back with the drinks and food she had insisted she didn't need.
He pushed an ice cold cup of water across the table at her and sat down opposite her with nothing more than a coffee.
"You said you were getting food," she snapped.
"No, I suggested you needed to eat and you told me not to patronise you. Which is, incidentally, why you're wearing a top that is uncomfortably warm in this weather, and why you're pretending you don't need to take a break
