11
She couldn’t resist or suppress the wash of emotion at Cillian’s words, or the sight of his familiar features on the small screen. He had his hair long and floppy; he wouldn’t let anyone cut it at the moment. Honey blond, like his father, with green eyes. But he had Toni’s smile, her chin.
‘Maybe you’ll get something from the Italian tooth fairy while you’re here.’
His face lit up and she wondered for a moment if she shouldn’t have got his hopes up. Cillian had had plenty of disappointments in his life already.
‘Maybe she brings ice cream!’ Daphne added, giving Cilli a squeeze.
Toni tried not to wince. ‘I’m not sure ice cream and the tooth fairy go together, but there might be a separate fairy for ice cream. Be gentle when you wobble it,’ she warned him with a pang. ‘But you have to keep brushing your other teeth, even if that one hurts.’
‘I know, Mum.’
After staring at the screen for a minute, he disappeared without saying anything further. The few minutes had beenbetter than nothing, but her arms felt emptier than ever when she ended the call.
A rustle behind her heralded Gabri’s return to the terrace through the netting curtains. Barefoot, his shirt unbuttoned and his hair curling wildly after his shower, he made a strange – and startlingly handsome – waiter as he set the table with salad and refilled her wine glass before returning for the dinner plates.
She wished she could switch it off, this reaction to him in her skin. He’d been honest to the point of blunt that he had no interest in a relationship – not that she was interested in anything either. They only had a week anyway.
A week of this stifled awareness, confusing, heart-pounding attraction.
‘That’s a very big sigh,’ he commented as he set two plates on the table.
‘Oh, I—’ She gulped.
‘Everything okay at home?’
That was a plausible cover story. ‘Yes, it’s just the— This smells amazing!’ She inhaled deeply as he set a sprig of basil on top. ‘I recognise the garlic, but what else is in this?’
‘Have a taste,’ he invited instead of answering, swirling his own forkful of the wide ribbons of pasta.
‘You’re going to make me guess?’
‘No,’ he said with an easy-going smile. Gone was the haunted ex-husband from earlier. He’d had time in his kitchen – away from her – and he was back in his safe space. ‘Just try it first.’
The garlic was sharp, not cooked through the way she usually prepared it, but mellowed by the creamy sauce and the savoury meatiness of diced mushrooms. The whole dish was a comfort zone, blended and balanced flavours bringing the moment to life.
‘It tastes so good, it makes you glad to be alive,’ she commented with a laugh. ‘Your simple existence, hmm?’
‘One day on the island and you understand already.’
‘You told me a lot about your sanctuary online, although you never mentioned it only had one bedroom. The prickly pear is a surprise too.’
‘That one didn’t come up in conversation.’
‘Are you going to tell me the secret?’ she prompted, gesturing to her bowl with her fork.
‘What secret? This is the simplest dish I could possibly make. I’ll get some fish and make the local stew another time, but I thought we were hungry tonight, so this is quick. It’s garlic butter sauce. That’s all. Garlic and butter. Plus the mushrooms and parmesan, and I add sage from the garden and some pepper, but nothing else.’
‘Why is it so good? Don’t tell me it’s because of the place – the moment.’ She was worried it might be, the gentle sunshine and the sea, the wide view of a bigger life – and the compelling company.
‘Simple flavoursaregood – like simple people. And the ingredients are as fresh as you can get. I dug up this garlic yesterday.’ He took a sip of his wine and flashed her a smile, as if to say,What you see is what you get. She knew that was wrong.
‘Well, it’s delicious. Thank you.’
He muttered something in response that might have been in Italian, but she understood he was waving off her thanks. ‘It won’t be the tooth fairy, by the way,’ he said abruptly.
‘Hmm?’
