‘Yeah, I basically have permanent calluses on my palms from rowing,’ Luca replies. ‘It’s worth it, though.’
Instead of taking her out on one of the tiny streamlined machines like the one Luca was rowing when they first met, they are in an old-fashioned wooden rowing boat painted bright red.
‘Better for beginners,’ he had said when they’d met at the riverside. ‘And for snacks too,’ he’d added, lifting up a bulging Giuglia’s bag and placing it down inside the hull.
‘Thank fuck for that,’ she’d said. ‘I’d been dreading getting into one of those tiny contraptions. And snacks are always a good choice.’
She has surprised herself by how much she has enjoyed the feeling of pulling the oars through the water, the satisfying tug as the paddle catches. And how much she has enjoyed Luca’s company, even if the awkward kiss that they still haven’t talked about hangs in the air between them. They’ve chatted as they’ve made their way along the river, Luca sharing more stories about his mum and Phoebe opening up about her father’s struggles in a way she never did with Max. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed about her dad’s depression, just that she didn’t want Max to see him any differently and she innately sensed that he would. But Luca listens without judgement. She talks about her work, too, and how it’s consumed her life for the past few years.
‘I get that,’ he says, nodding. ‘When I was getting the deli ready, it was all I could think about. And now it’s open, it’s not much better either. It’s not just a job to me, it never will be.’
‘Exactly,’ Phoebe replies. ‘My job isn’t just a job either.’ It’s something Max never understood. How, even on the tough days, she would never be able to stop herself from caring deeply.
‘I think it’s all about balance, isn’t it?’ says Luca. ‘Our jobs will always be important to us and there’s nothing wrong with that. But other things have to be too. Things like this.’
He looks across at her, a dark curl falling in front of his face and his caramel eyes meeting hers. Does he mean the river, or something else?
A dragonfly comes to rest on the end of one of the oars and they both watch it for a moment before it darts off again. In the field beside them, a sheep lets out a loud bleat, but otherwise it’s quiet.
‘Oh, I nearly forgot about the snacks,’ he says, twisting behind him, making the boat rock and Phoebe grab hold of the sides. He reaches inside the bag for a paper parcel that he opens to reveal crisp, golden scrolls of pastry lined up in rows, each bursting with a different-coloured filling.
She draws in a little breath.
‘Your mum’s cannoli.’
‘I’d recommend the pistachio. That was always her favourite.’
He passes her one and she puts it in her mouth, the pastry snapping and crumbling and her tongue tingling with the sweet, creamy taste of pistachio and a bright burst of lemon.
Luca takes one too, his eyes closing. Phoebe watches a look of contentment spread across his face and something tugs inside her. ‘They taste of my childhood,’ he says and it feels like a precious kind of secret, getting to know this about him.
It makes her find the courage to at least try to clear the air, as she meant to yesterday.
‘Look, Luca. About the other night. I’m really sorry for what happened. It had been a long day and I’d had too much to drink. It’s something I’m working on.’ She hasn’t had a drink in over a week and while there were moments when she wasat her parents’ place and worrying about her nan that she had craved the numbing warmth of a large gin and tonic, she hasn’t missed the hangovers that she realises now had become a normal part of her existence. She thought everyone woke up each morning feeling like death. ‘Anyway, I’m really sorry I launched on you like that when you clearly didn’t want me to.’
Luca brushes the pastry crumbs from his fingertips and tilts his head, looking at her closely. There’s a patch of icing sugar caught on his bottom lip.
‘You think I didn’t want to kiss you?’
The boat bobs slightly on the flowing river, a family of moorhens paddling serenely by. Phoebe focuses on watching them instead of the fact that her cheeks are probably co-ordinating perfectly with her hair right now.
‘Well, you did step away from me. What else was I supposed to think?’
She might not have the most extensive experience with men, but someone physically recoiling from you feels like a pretty clear message.
‘I wanted to kiss you, Phoebe. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time you stepped into the deli.’
She looks up at him now, meeting his eye again. He holds her gaze without looking away.
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah, oh. You were so annoyed at me that day. And you had every right to be,’ he adds quickly. ‘But, God, I couldn’t believe how someone could look so annoyed but also so …vibrantat the same time.’
‘It’s the hair, isn’t it?’ she says, gesturing to her bright redponytail that perfectly matches the red lipstick she is wearing because there might be some people who wouldn’t think to wear bright red lipstick when rowing down a river, but Phoebe is not one of those people.
‘It’s not just the hair,’ he replies in a gruff voice. ‘You’re fucking luminous, Phoebe. Everything about you. Yeah, the outfits and the hair too. But it’s also justyou. That day you came into the deli like a whirlwind? Yeah, you were mad at me. But after you’d gone, I found myself feeling more alive than I’d been since Mum died. And the craziest thing is you don’t even realise it – the fact you have this light inside of you that makes people want to be around you and open up to you. No wonder you’re so great at your job. I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone else and I’ve only known you, what, a couple of weeks? So, yeah, I wanted to kiss you.’
For once, she has absolutely no idea what to say.
