23
THE NEXT MORNING, I throw open the curtains, make myself a cup of tea, and settle in to read Leo’s proposal.
It was an awkward return home from the wedding, with Leo and me sheepishly heading straight for bed.
“Is a drunken wedding kiss even really a kiss?” he’d said, looking at my anxious face as we stood on the landing outside our rooms.
“After that much Limoncello?” I added gratefully.
“On a dance floor,” he’d added.
“In the rain,” I replied, feeling my heart aching.
“We didn’t stand a chance,” he said, a timid smile on his face.
I lie back on the bed, thinking about that kiss. How soft his lips were, how alive with desireIwas. I sigh. And then I flick open the proposal.
The essence of his pitch is a laid-back but chic pasta bar. The kitchen at the rear, opened out with a large surface for rolling out fresh pasta in front of the guests. The bar is shortened, the beer taps removed, the old-fashioned overhang pulled down. The old oak bar top is replaced by cool black-and-white marble, giving it a vintage touch.Outside the tables are small, with chairs facing outward in that classic European sidewalk style.
It’s slick. Modern Italian, but with a great old-school feel.
But it isn’t just the ideas for renovation that are both surprising and impressive; it’s the menu, which is not only simple and delicious. It’s quietly designed to make real money.
Pasta. One hundred percent fresh. With several different fillings and sauces to choose from. That is the entire menu, along with sourdough ciabatta and some hand-selected antipasti meats and three desserts. The key to the menu is that pasta is cheap to make, and constantly changing the menu means that although there are only six dishes to choose from, they are always seasonal, and therefore always cost-effective. The meat is slow-cooked, cheaper cuts. No super-pricey aged sirloin. It’s smart.
I imagine my dad balking at it.Where’s the bistecca? Where’s the osso bucco?
But Leo is right. Dining in London is changing, and people don’t want these heavy, homely, traditional meaty meals like they used to. Pasta can be vegan. Pasta can be light. Pasta isalwaysdelicious. The new furnishings will create more atmospheric sound, introducing a vibrant, lively feel so that going out for a meal feels like going fucking out.
This is a restaurant you can go to for a good time and an inexpensive meal that is so delicious, you’d be happy to queue for a table.
Which brings me to his final idea: no bookings. A risky business that shows an almost arrogant self-belief while remaining accessible for all.
I groan. It’s good. It’s not perfect. I’m not sure about the blandness of the interiors. I think we need something else warm on the menu: a daily special of Tuscan bean stew or even a soup.Not everyone likes pasta. The fools.
I put down the proposal and gaze at Leo from the window as he manages a few laps with great vigor and then runs quickly out of steam. This is good, I think. Hang on to these imperfections, Olive. You can make them bigger, make them an issue. You’re an Olympic champion in finding theick. This is your moment. But as I watch him lift himself up and sit on the edge of the pool, the water cascading off his bare torso, I have to retreat back to bed to recover from the flawlessness of him.
I’m feeling more confused than ever when my phone buzzes.
It’s Ginny.
“Dude, I’m really in trouble,” I open.
“Sexy trouble?” says Ginny, sounding unhelpfully excited.
“Leo gave me a proposal for what he’d do to the restaurant. And it is really, really good, Ginny. And smart.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“I was kind of hoping it would be terrible,” I say. “It would make everything easier. You know, I could sell up and then when he forgave me, maybe we could even date?” My voice is pitiful.
“You want your cake,” she says. “Fair enough. Cake isgood.”
“I can’t have the cake,” I say. “No matter how I slice it, I can’t have the damn cake. I can’t keep the restaurant and start a business with Leoandstart a relationship too. It can’t be done.”
Ginny laughs, lowering her voice. “Olive, you really like him, right?”
“I really do.”
