When he arrives, his appearance makes me laugh. ‘Was there an explosion in a flour factory?’
‘When I arrived this morning some of the bags were damaged. Now they’re leaking.’
‘I may be able to explain that,’ I say, thinking of Eva’s sexual antics.
‘We’re running out of ingredients in the emoji kitchen but I can’t make the pizzas fast enough because of the oven. It’s the worst combination. You have exactly five minutes as I’m on a break and Kai’s monitoring my time. What do you need?’
‘The ruler’s back then? Glad to see you’ve got the measure of your new boss. I need to talk, but now you’re here, I don’t want to waste those precious five minutes.’ I softly push against his chest and he sits on the edge of the bed, looking surprised by this turn of events. ‘I’ve reassessed my views on family in the last few days. Every family is different, with lots of moving parts. Sometimes it’s just an idea you have in your head of how you’d like things to be, based on storybooks and fairy tales …’
He shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t think of a single fairy tale with a functional family in it.’
‘Four minutes,’ I say, looking at my watch.
‘Maybe I can text Kai and tell him I’m taking an extended break,’ he replies, fiddling with the strap of my dress before running his hand along my upper arm.
‘I want to get to know your family. Assuming they stay in London. Maria, and …’
‘Lia. I did try to explain, she’s not my biological daughter …’
‘I know. Your dad walked me through it all earlier today over a fish finger sandwich. But you became her father and she’s lucky to have you. Can I meet her? If Maria doesn’t mind?’
‘They’d both love that. Maria was upset she’d inadvertently contributed to our split. She might come here later actually so you could ask her yourself. Kai has some jobs going and she hasn’t decided whether to stay in London or pick up her life in Italy.’
‘He’ll have a chef’s job to add to that list by morning. We’re getting you out of here, Joe. You’re better than smiley face pizzas and rubbish ovens. I’m setting up a meeting with Vince about funding your restaurant. You’ll need to take your business plan and wow him. He’s going back home soon as you probably know, but he’d like to stay part of your life. As would I.’
‘But I thought …’
‘Can we talk about your dad and your ex-girlfriend later? I have something else in mind for the remaining two minutes.’ His eyes travel down my body and flicker with desire. I unbutton the chef’s coat and free his body from the white T-shirt.
‘I’m sweaty. I need a shower.’
‘One minute. There are free aubergines in the drawer.’
He draws me into the deepest kiss of my life, and when we are done I smile at the emoji character above us, face set in a wide grin, with hearts popping out of its eye sockets. In about thirty seconds, I’m anticipating that will be me.
Chapter 38
Three days later, I find myself a walking basket of anxiety as I prepare to welcome Joe’s ex and her daughter into my home. In a moment of madness, I suggested they all come for Christmas dinner. Having gone off turkey after my date with Tony earlier in the year, I proposed an Italian theme, which I instantly regretted as one guest is a professional chef, and the other a native of the city that invented pizza.
Joe is on starters, I’m handling the main course, and Maria is bringing dessert. Following Joe’s lead, I’ve fairy lit the hell out of my home. Eva took all the greenery with her, leaving only one bare tree in a pot. But I did my best with what I had, buying some gin baubles from the market and filling them with limoncello, with lemonade for Lia. The table is looking lovely although it will be a squash. I’m hoping the Italian menu will make them feel at home– lasagne with garlic bread, and a cheeseboard for after dessert. I’ve sourced all manner of exotic cheeses from the Italian deli in the market and topped them up with a few surprises from the supermarket. I have way too many, but that’s lucky as I forgot to buy any for the béchamel sauce.
I pick up a colourful block of black ash cheddar, grate it and stir it into the pan with the flour, milk and butter. The sauce only looks a bit darker than normal but as it oozes around the lasagne sheets a few moments later, I realise it’s developing. When I stand back to look at it in the light I notice it’s turning blue.
I decide it will bake out. Popping into the bedroom, I change into my Christmas jumper with a pug on the front. Doodle comes to sniff it. I’ve thoroughly spoilt him with bones, toys and a new bed, even though he’s taken to joining me on mine when Joe’s not staying.
When I return to the kitchen the lasagne remains vibrant. I grab some Parmesan and finely grate it on the top.
Still blue.
Joe arrives, with his family, arms filled with Tupperware and carrier bags. The dog goes nuts and I attempt to bring him to heel.
‘Doodle, please calm down like we agreed while I show Joe and Maria into the kitchen with their goodies.’ I’ve been reorganising my life based on the advice I’ve doled out to people. I don’t say no to Doodle anymore. I suggest alternative, positive things for him to do. It makes pretty much no difference and I’m thinking we need to go to puppy class.
I’m nervous. I met Maria and her daughter yesterday morning, when we carved up shopping lists and tasks, but I hardly know them and it’s a big responsibility to host their Christmas Day. Maria kisses me warmly on the cheek, and Lia shyly holds up a Barbie doll. ‘Oh, she’s lovely. And wearing pink, like I do,’ I tell her.
Joe translates, but she seems to understand quite a lot of English. Giggling, she points to the pug on my front and tells me it is red.
‘Red is for Christmas,’ I reply. ‘Pink is for life.’ I don’t expect her to understand, but she will one day. Taking her hand, I lead her into the living room where she gasps at all the lights. I briefed Joe about the treasure hunt I’ve set up around the room and together we start her off on it. ‘Doodle! Come!’ I say, determined the dog doesn’t sniff out the chocolate before she does.
