“No, no. The honour is all mine.”
“What honour is that, my love?”
Another man’s amused voice has me looking to the side, to see a smaller man wearing pressed slacks, a dress shirt, and glasseswalking over. Gianni jumps out of his seat and takes the other man's hand, pulling him in for a kiss on the lips.
“This beauty is Isabelle. She cooks in a restaurant in Italy and I’m going to make her a tasting platter. You should join her,mi amor.”
His partner looks at him with a smirk. “Gianni, you haven’t even introduced us and you want me to be her lunch date?”
Gianni turns to me and I’m so taken by the two of them, their obvious love and warmth, I can feel my grin.
“Isabelle, meet Paul, the love of my life and my favourite person to cook for. Please, let him sit with you so I can spoil you both.”
“How can I say no,” I tease, stretching out a hand to Paul. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Paul takes Gianni’s seat across from me, accepting a sweet kiss from Gianni before he takes off back to the kitchen.
“Sorry if he came on a little strong. He has a way of doing that,” he says, murmuring his thanks to the server when she brings him some water.
“No, it’s fine. Reminded me of my family in Italy. Everyone is your friend, and if they like your food, they’re family.”
Paul chuckles. “Yep, sounds right.”
We settle into an easy conversation, getting to know each other. I learn he and Gianni have been together for six years and married for three. He’s an architect at a local firm but also helps with the business side of the restaurant. Gianni is the second-generation owner of Piatti, his father having opened it over twenty years ago after moving his family to Vancouver from near Rome.
“He works too much, but he loves it. The kitchen is his home,” Paul says, before taking a bite of focaccia.
I nod and swallow my own bite. “I know that feeling well. My boss is the same, and truthfully, I can be as well. My nonnataught me how to cook and she always said there’s no problem that can’t be solved by baking bread.”
Paul laughs just as Gianni comes over with a massive tray filled with small plates. “You two are definitely meant to be friends, he feels the same way.”
“What way is that,mi amor?” Gianni asks, setting down the tray on a stand and unloading the plates that are filled with simmering dishes of pasta, seafood, vegetables, and so much more.
“How many times have I woken up in the middle of the night to find you in the kitchen, working something out in your head by making pasta or sauce?”
“Too many to count. Food doesn’t judge or talk back. It simply allows creativity and love to flourish and turn into something beautiful.”
I bring my hands to my chest. “I love that.”
Gianni gives me a grin. “You and I are going to be good friends, Bella. Can I call you that? It fits, you are so beautiful.” I manage to nod, but then he claps his hands and barrels on. “Excellent. But now, you must eat.”
Two hours later, my stomach is as full as my heart, and I’m exchanging long hugs and plenty of kisses on the cheek from both Gianni and Paul. We’ve made plans to get together on Sunday when the restaurant is closed, and Gianni all but begged me to join him in the kitchen soon.
I drive back to the house with a smile on my face. My solo lunch adventure did not turn out the way I expected. Instead, it was so much better.
It would seem that when I go back to Italy, I won’t just be leaving my mother and her new husband here in Vancouver. I’ll be leaving several new friends as well.
Oh, and the former love of my life.
Can’t forget that…
At the house, I go straight up to my bedroom. I’ve refused to give in to temptation for days now. And I can’t any longer. Whether it was seeing Paul and Gianni so happy with each other, or something else, I don’t know. But I need to know what I missed over the last eight years.
Half an hour later, my heart is aching when I throw the phone down on my bed. I can’t believe what I’ve seen.
Impulsively, I pick my phone back up and open a text thread to Willow to get the information I need. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask questions, simply sends me the address I want.
A few minutes later, I’m putting my shoes back on and heading out.
