Andrea gently nodded on the screen. ‘And after almost two months, how much has she done for you?’
‘Everything. And more. Many times over.’
‘And you for her?’
Matthew conceded. ‘Clearly not enough.’
‘Matteo, this year is about both of you. She’s clearly the kind of woman who will just give and give and never ask for anything in return. Like your nonna. These are good women. The best women. But they’re fragile. Care for her. Be gentle. She has given up a year of her life so that you can have the rest of yours. Treat her like your queen.’
Matthew scowled, so very disappointed in himself for having upset Sarah. His eyes returned to the window. Sarah now sat on the ledge, drinking her cup of tea, staring across the valley. ‘She deserves so much better.’
‘Did you want to touch her?’
‘Nonno . . .’
‘Who else can you speak to about these things,eh?’
He groaned. ‘Of course I did. I wanted to do more than touch her. She’s driving me crazy. I’m so attracted to her.’
‘Allora, have sex! Make love. Enjoy your youth. Kiss and be passionate. When you get to my age, nothing works anymore.’
‘I don’t want to complicate—’
‘Zitto!’ Andrea ordered. ‘You’re so worried about not complicating things, that all you’re doing is complicating them further.’
‘My professional life has been spent defending and working through shitstorms of trouble caused by peoplecomplicatingthings. I’m tired of it.’
‘Sarah isn’t a client, Matteo. Youshouldbe complicating things with her.’
‘I can’t handle complicated. It’s too messy. Black and white. Clear-cut. That’s how I operate.’ His brow began to perspire and his skin grew hot.
‘How is that working out for you?’ Andrea asked. ‘Is it working? Because your frustration, visible anxiety, this call, and that gorgeous woman, are saying otherwise.’
Matthew retreated into himself. ‘Thanks for your help, Nonno.’
His grandfather raised his eyebrows, then repeated, ‘Your queen.’
They ended the call.
Matthew picked up his journal from the desk and was about to pen an entry when suddenly an idea came into view. He mulled over it for a moment then grabbed his phone and dialled.
‘Zio. It’s Matthew. I need your help with something . . .’
diciotto
Aweek of planning had passed since Matthew’s call to Andrea, and he was finally able to turn his attention to Sarah. Properly. During this time, Sarah had flitted in and out of the same lull. She continued to brush his concerns aside, blaming her mood swings on the late arrival of her period and their labour for her increasing fatigue. Despite her reassurance that all was fine, Matthew couldn’t help but notice how she carried herself a little tighter, and the odd sigh or whimper which escaped her subconsciously.
It was the clink of fine bone china on glass that startled Sarah from her slumber that Saturday morning. Matthew was setting a hot cuppa on her bedside table.
‘Morning.’ He dropped to his knees so that his height matched hers as she rolled over to face him.
‘Did I oversleep?’ Sarah squinted through the low light. ‘What time is it?’
‘No, no. You’re fine. It’s eight.’
Sarah looked between Matthew and the cup of tea. ‘What’s going on?’
Matthew dropped his chin to rest on the edge of her pillow, just inches from her sleepy face. ‘I have a surprise for you.’
