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‘How about an antipasti platter to share. I’ll put together my favourite selections. Then the ravioli al ragù di cinghiale?’ He bent closer to Jay. ‘That’s wild boar.’

‘Sounds amazing,’ Jay said.

Matteo winked at Frankie, he knew she loved that dish.

‘And Chris has insisted you have the tagliata, it’s so tender.’

‘We don’t want to disappoint Chris,’ Frankie said. She was very fond of Matteo’s cheery sous chef.

Matteo gave a nod of assent. ‘And wine. The Brunello. All on the house.’

‘Oh, Mr Bartoli, no, I couldn’t⁠—’

Matteo waved away Jay’s protestations. ‘I insist. Consider it a welcome home present.’

As soon as her nonno left, Frankie leant forward. ‘I thought you’d have already eaten, or at least ordered as I’m so late. And sorry about that as I got a bit held up.’

‘I was happy to wait. I had my book.’

Frankie glanced down at Jay’s reading material which lay open, spine up on the table. ‘War and Peace. It’s a mighty tome; how long were you willing to wait for me?’ She gave a little laugh.

He met her eyes.

She held his gaze for a moment, feeling a tight sensation in her chest then Frankie picked up the novel and turned it over. ‘You’re only on page seventeen.’

Jay looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Yeah, it’s one of those books I’ve always meant to read but never quite got round to. Confession; I also wanted to look intelligent and deep. But now I realise I’m edging into pretentious. I guess I wanted to impress you.’

Frankie was genuinely taken aback. ‘Impress me. Why?’

‘Because you’re so well-read and know everything about literature.’

‘Hardly!’ she scoffed.

‘Come on, you won prizes…’

‘A prize. Singular. And that was a very long time ago. If it’s a game of which of us is more impressive, I think we already have a winner.’ Frankie cleared her throat. Keen to shift the conversation away from her university days, she picked up his book again.

‘It’s pretty hefty so you can always repurpose it as a doorstop if you give up on it. Although it is a wonderful novel.’ Frankie caught sight of the price sticker. ‘And you got it in the local bookshop.’

‘Yes, it’s a great place.’

‘Get anything else?’

‘Christopher Brookmyre’s new one. A collection of poems, a Stephen King I haven’t read and the first in the Karen Pirie detective series by Val McDermid.’

‘Nice haul. And, honestly, bringing the poetry would have been way more pretentious.’

‘It was a close call.’ Jay smiled and Frankie felt that thump in her chest again.

Matteo reappeared with the bottle of Brunello, and there was a flurry of activity as plates of food were laid down and wine was poured.

Once they were on their own again, Jay raised his glass to Frankie. ‘To you, Frankie. Your grandfather’s right. You look beautiful.’

Frankie ducked her head down and took a large swallow of her drink, hoping Dutch courage would quell the jitters she felt. ‘It’s all thanks to Valentina. She did my hair. And she came round with a bunch of clothes for me to try on as I’ve only got work clothes that smell of dog and anything else half decent is in the wash!’

‘You were always so bad at taking a compliment!’ Jay said as he put his glass down, but instead of it sitting on the table, he accidentally rested it on the edge of his fork and it tipped toward him. He tried grabbing it but instead managed to knock it even more, and with great velocity, the wine vacated the glass in an elegant arc over the table, also splattering into the tea-light holder, extinguishing the flame.

‘Shit!’ Jay hissed and, giggling like naughty children, they both grabbed their napkins and dabbed at the pooling wine. Luckily the table cover was a dark red so the stain wasn’t too noticeable. Jay relit the little candle with a lighter from his pocket.