That night, with Matthew deeply asleep beside her, Sarah thought of the new matching red lace set in her drawer. She had tucked it underneath some other items, securely stashing it out of view. She didn’t know when, or indeedif, she would ever wear it for Matthew, but she hoped that one day it would make a stunning, earth-shattering debut.
They had been so busy with the opening of La Viola to guests that time spent together, just the two of them, had reduced significantly. She wondered if this awareness – the separation she started to feel – was what coaxed her to make the day’s purchase. Was it her skin craving the feeling of his warmth and touch? Was she, even subconsciously, looking for an excuse to be intimate with him again? Whatever it was, she knew their current work–life balance had changed things for them. Their rhythm had waned and their attentions had been redirected. She popped the thought aside, promising herself to keep an eye on things as the weeks progressed.
She turned to face Matthew and watched him rest beside her. Margherita’s comments about his longing stares and desire-filled eyes returned to her with a gentle flush of excitement. Though he wasn’t aware of it, her eyes returned the favour.
ventiquattro
Consistently at full capacity, and with weeks of it still to come, Matthew and Sarah were operating like a well-oiled machine. They had their routine down pat, running on adrenaline, and were very much distracted from the happenings of the outside world.
La Viola had become their epicentre, and they were revolving around it like planets in their own orbits. The only trouble was that those orbits were often misaligned, and moments of quality time spent together were growing fewer and farther between.
In the midst of the mayhem, however, there was one date that Sarah didn’t forget – Matthew’s birthday.
She had set her alarm early so that she could bring him breakfast in bed, but somehow, he had beaten her to it. When she woke up, he was already in the garden picking zucchini flowers with the sunrise.
‘Look at you, Birthday Boy,’ she cooed, walking across the rear courtyard with her arms wide open. ‘Thirty-eight years young.’
Matthew grinned. ‘Thanks, Sarah.’
She enveloped him in one of her all-encompassing hugs and held him tight. ‘I wanted to make you breakfast in bed this morning.’
‘That’s so sweet. I had a restless night, so just gave up and came out here.’ Sarah noted his journal, favourite pen and empty espresso cup on the outdoor setting.
‘Want to talk about it?’ She gestured to the journal.
‘I’ll be right.’
‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Better. Just groggy from broken sleep. Hot. Sweaty. Couldn’t settle.’
Sarah ran her fingers through his hair and brought her hand down to caress his face. ‘Despite the change of age, I’d say you’re still very handsome.’ He smiled. ‘Can I make you some breakfast, then?’
‘Sounds great.’
‘I was thinking along the lines of aciambellone, but now that I see those zucchinis, I’m thinking afrittata. What would you like?’
His eyes narrowed approvingly. ‘I’ll have a birthdayfrittata, please.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’ She caught his chin and dropped a sweet lingering kiss on his lips. ‘Anything for my Birthday Boy.’
Watching her head into the kitchen with an armful of zucchinis and their flowers, Matthew’s heart swelled at her kindness and simplicity. There was no show. No pretence. Just care and commitment. And a kiss. He allowed his top teeth to tug at his lower lip in the precise place hers had been.
Definitely ‘complicated’ territory, he thought, and pushed the warmth he felt in his chest down into his stomach.
Half an hour later, the two were snuggled up at the outdoor setting, eating what Matthew thought to be the greatestfrittata alla zucchinaof his life.
‘This is so delicious, Sarah.’ He sliced another portion with the edge of his fork.
Her reply came in the form of a playful shoulder bump on account of her full mouth.
Matthew smiled and took a moment to glance at her sideways as she reached for her coffee. It had been a few weeks since they had sat down together just the two of them to share a meal. He missed her company; the play, the banter, the discussions and storytelling. It had been all front and business, and the realisation that he missed the moments when it was just the two of them took him aback.
Thankfully, before his mind could get to work analysing this revelation, Sarah set down her plate and dusted off her hands. ‘As soon as breakfast is sorted for the guests, I’ll make you thatciambellone. I’ll make two, in fact.’
‘Why two?’ he asked, popping the last bite into his mouth.
‘For Luca, of course. It’s his birthday, too. Remember?’
