‘Thank you, Abi. I love her,’ Tony said.
I gave him a quick smile, my heart racing. ‘And now we can watch her in the film,’ I said, nodding at the screen, as the theme tune started.
‘No rush. I’ve already seen it,’ Tony said, staring at me longingly.
*
The credits were rolling when Tony nudged me awake. We’d snuggled together, eating cheese, prosciutto and olives, and I’d finished off the wine before falling asleep on his shoulder. I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. I’d been dreaming about it. That one moment had given me more feels than the whole of our first night together, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. We’d been lost in each other, for just a second, and it had felt, kind of… real. I sleepily slid into the passenger seat and shuddered. The night air had gone cold.
‘Here you go.’ Tony put the picnic blanket over me and tucked it into the seatbelt as I bundled myself down and closed my eyes. Then he packed up the car, put on an Il Volo CD, and drove us home.
Fifteen
Monday 19thAugust
I woke up the next morning and Tony was gone. I felt half-disappointed, half-relieved that he hadn’t stuck around – but mostly glad that there was no morning-after awkwardness to face. He probably thought it was what I wanted after I’d kicked him out so early last time but I always worried that this is what would happen. That I’d start to like someone then be abandoned again. Much better to have no feelings either way and then nobody could get hurt. But I had to admit I’d enjoyed spending another night in Tony’s arms. He was completely impractical as a romantic interest – he lived in LA, for a start – but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. I could lean into this holiday as more of a holistic breakfrom my way of life, and then get back on it in London.
Tony was still very much ticking the transitory box, so a holiday romance could work quite nicely. A classic try-before-you-buy situation. Even though I wouldn’t be buying again. Being left alone to piece my broken heart back together was not something I wanted to repeat. No, the only person I could truly rely on not to let me down was myself. I put my bikini on, with my beach kimono, and ran the straighteners through my hair. May as well make a bit of effort in case I bumped into Tony on the stairs, or at breakfast, or by the pool. I’d definitely bump into him somewhere. I mean we’d slept together; he’d painted me like a goddess and now there had been another kiss and an overnighter. But would he be happy with something very,verycasual if I decided to adapt my modus operandi for a couple of weeks?
I glided downstairs for breakfast, doing my best catwalk strut across the dining room. Today was not a day for pancakes, which was lucky as Paolo wasn’t at his regular station, beaming up at me as I walked in. Instead, Mia was running around with coffees and scrambled eggs, seeing to everyone on her own.
‘Buongiorno, Abi,’ she called. ‘Coffee for you?’
‘Yes, double espresso please, I’m shattered this morning.’ I jumped, as the aggressive rev of a motorbike sounded outside, and I spotted Paolo climbing behind Tony on to his Vespa. Not quite a motorbike, but bad enough. The sight of them balancing so precariously as Tony kicked off, made me feel faint. They looked so vulnerable and exposed, despite their matching blue helmets, puffing off in a cloud of diesel, tyres sinking into the dirt.
‘How did you sleep?’ Mia asked, handing me an espresso and a jug of frothy milk.
‘Good thanks, yes. We got back late after the film in Siena.’
‘Ah, of course. That’s why Tony was all smiles this morning.’ Mia nodded to herself.
‘Where are they off to so early?’ I asked, heaping pineapple and melon onto my plate.
‘Florence.’ Bianco and Toppa tumbled out from under the buffet table and Mia picked them up, one in each hand. I felt sick at the thought of Tony driving all the way to Florence on that rickety-looking moped, but that was the way they rolled out here. ‘The paperwork for Giorgia’s estate has finally come through, so they are signing today and hopefully that’ll be everything done. It’s been a lot of work to get it all organised.’
‘Did she leave the vineyard to both of them?’ I asked. Curious as to whether Tony would be staying for the foreseeable.
Mia nodded. ‘Yes, but Paolo and I will run it and live here. It will always belong to the family, but Tony is so busy, he wants to stay as a silent partner. Well, as silent as Italian brothers can be.’ She looked tired as she put her hands on her hips. ‘We’ve still got to sort through Giorgia’s house and pack everything up. Paolo couldn’t face doing it without Tony.’
‘Is it in San Gimignano?’
‘No, not that far. Look out on the horizon over there…’ Mia pointed to the back of the vineyard, where a small, white building stood, surrounded by olive trees. ‘You can see it at the bottom of the field. When Franco died, Giorgia insisted on moving out of the farmhouse, but wanted to stay on the land, so Paolo built her a house. She wanted to stay close, of course – family was everything to her – she was so proud of her boys.’ I thought of my own parents in their mid-terraced house back in Finsbury Park. They’d be sitting down to have breakfast about now, like they did every morning. Mum might have cooked something special – scrambled eggs with a smidge of chorizo, granary toast with butter and two packet cappuccinos.
They invited me and Chris for Sunday lunch every single week without fail, but there was always some reason one or the other of us couldn’t make it, so it was rare all four of us would get together, maybe once every couple of months or so – but it was far from an Italian family love-in. I couldn’t imagine them living at the bottom of my garden, or in Ned’s flat downstairs.
‘Can I get another coffee, please?’ Ian called over, and Mia handed me the puppies to run back to the kitchen. I put my feet up and they snuggled into my lap. They were both cute in their own way, but Nero had my heart and I spotted him across the room snoozing in Paolo’s slipper. I was strangely glad Tony wasn’t around, so I could process my feelings without him sitting next to me. Spending a second night together had been amazing. This time, we knew each other a little more. I’d known what to expect. We both had. It wasn’t the same as the opening night performance of a one-night stand. I stared into space, remembering that second kiss as we’d arrived back at the vineyard, when he’d thanked me again for the tickets. He’d known all along they weren’t freebies. Then inviting him in for a nightcap and going against my own rules. I could have held back and gone to bed alone, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to be with him. Just for one more night.
I finished my breakfast and put the puppies back in their crate, gently lifting Nero from his tiny slipper bed to join his brothers and carry on their sleep-a-thon together. Mia was running another art class, so I decided to try and move my picture of Tony on from a base layer of colourful shapes and basic pencil details, into an actual painting. With the added bonus that I could stand and stare at his face all day, while he was away in Florence. He’d left just as I was starting to consider the idea of an official date – not that he’d mentioned going on one. Maybe it wasn’t my choice to make.
‘Today, you can continue with your work from Sunday, or choose a still-life object to paint,’ Mia said, once we were all gathered together. I stood back and looked at my work-in-progress. It wasn’t that bad, now I looked at it again; it had a real spirit about it. But I wasn’t sure I could carry on drawing entirely from memory. It was way too tricky a task without Tony stood in front of me. Mia walked over to take a look.
‘Ah, yes, Abi! I loved this work from you!’
‘I want to keep going on it, but I think I need my model,’ I replied, glumly.
‘Wait. I have a photo here somewhere,’ she said, pulling out her phone. ‘Hmmm… YES, here he is.’ Mia showed me her screen, full of photos from the last session, including a clear shot of Tony stood posing for me. ‘I wanted to capture the concentration on everyone’s faces for Instagram.’
‘That one is perfect! Can I forward it to my phone?’
