“Pizza?”
It wasn’t true to say the day had been all bad. Luca had insisted on coming home with her and making her dinner. Pizza. Her favourite comfort food.
“I can’t believe you made that out of what I had in the fridge.”
“I didn’t. I went to the shop for ingredients.” He sliced the pizza. “You were engrossed in that report and didn’t notice.”
“You went to the shop? The local shop?”
“They have excellent mozzarella and surprisingly good tomatoes.”
“Was it Richard or his daughter Alice serving?”
“Both of them.”
Her heart sank. “And no doubt they asked what you were cooking, because they always do. When I was growing up they always knew what Dad and I were having for dinner. It was unsettling.”
“They did ask.”
Of course they did.“And you told them to mind their own business? You said you were making yourself a lonely mozzarella and tomato salad for one, which you were planning to eat while staring out of the window of your equally lonely apartment?”
“No. I told them that I was making you a pizza in your house. We agreed that the contents of your fridge isn’t reliable.” He put a slice of pizza on her plate. “Nice people. Excellent quality produce. They welcomed me to the village and suggested I call into the bakery tomorrow and pick up something for breakfast. They also told me to buy a couple of coffees because you never have milk in the fridge. Apparently the bakery is owned by a family member. I forget the name.”
“Lucy,” Evie said faintly. “She’s Alice’s cousin.”
“That’s it. Lucy.” He sat down opposite her. “They said cinnamon swirls are your favourite. I said they sounded perfect because we’d be using up a lot of calories tonight that would need replenishing.”
“You saidwhat? Are you serious? I’m going to have to move.” She put her hands over her face and then let them drop. “You do realise you’re going to have to wear a disguise and leave before dawn, don’t you?”
“I won’t be wearing a disguise. And I plan on occupying your bed right until the last possible moment. And then I’llbuy cinnamon swirls and probably go out into the street and perhaps sing and dance, so that no one misses the fact that I’m leaving your cottage wearing the same clothes I arrived in tonight.”
“Are you trying to make some sort of point?”
“Yes. I’m showing you that I’m comfortable with the whole world knowing I’m making you pizza and then hanging around to make you breakfast.”
Something shifted inside her. She felt a swell of emotion. Part of her was appalled but another part of her, the larger part, was touched. He was showing her that he was relaxed about the whole thing.
“You’re going to regret this.”
“No, I won’t.” He sounded sure. “You don’t have to creep around looking over your shoulder for my benefit, and if someone knocks on your door I will not be hiding in the cupboard or climbing out of your window naked.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. To cover her emotion, she kept it light.
“I’ve seen you naked. The locals are missing out. Wait—” She stared at him suspiciously as something dawned on her. “You’re saying all this to distract me, aren’t you?”
“Yes. You’re upset and I thought you needed to focus on something other than your crappy day.”
“So none of the above is true?”
“Oh, it’s all true.” He helped himself to pizza. “I’m distracting you by telling you the truth. Are you going to eat this? Because I don’t want to have to tell Alice that you didn’t like her tomatoes.”
She reached for the slice he’d given her. “Fine, but you are responsible for what happens next. Don’t come complaining to me when the whole village wants regular updates on our relationship journey.”
“I won’t be complaining. I thought I might start a blog. It might save time.” He took a bite of pizza. “I’m still waiting for you to tell me why you feel officially terrible.”
“Because I was angry with Abby. When she said she’d been sending reports to her mother, I was furious. It felt like such a betrayal.” Evie rubbed her forehead. “I felt exposed and defensive, and I assumed—”
“You assumed she’d said bad things about you.”
