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He closed the door behind him and left the staff accommodation, heading round to the front of the hotel.
Outside, the cold of the morning took his breath away. Dawn was still to break and frost glistened under the street lights as Rocco crossed over the road to his car, where he’d parked it before his grandfather’s party.
Sliding behind the wheel he studied his reflection in the rear-view mirror.
He did look a bit tired and was in need of a shave, but he still looked good.
Late-thirties echoed, mockingly.
Had he been letting himself go? He was still muscular, and although his six-pack days were behind him, he was still toned. He prodded his stomach. Toned-ish. He had been working a lot lately, but that was a good thing, bringing in more clients for his architect firm, where he hoped to make partner. But maybe he needed to prioritise his health more. He didn’t have time for a run before work, but he’d fit one in that evening.
Rocco raked his hands through his hair, trying to get a bit more height back into the style.
And that’s when he noticed it. Sitting proudly at the very front and centre of his hairline.
His first grey hair.
Rocco could have sworn it hadn’t been there the previous day.
Even going in all guns blazing with a new fitness regime to pursue, he had no idea what he’d do about his hair. Maybe it was a one-off – an aberration in an otherwise head full of jet-black hair. Probably the multiple shocks of that morning had caused it. Twenty! It made him feel a bit like a creepy old man. A duped, stuffy and judgemental creepy old man.
He searched through the rest of his hair, or what he could see of it in the little mirror. It did just seem to be one. But it was obvious.
Maybe he should embrace it.
Going grey could make him look distinguished.
He should be able to accept ageing was a perfectly natural state…
He quickly pulled it out and felt marginally better.
He’d go home, have a shower and a shave, then change into his suit, which was Hugo Boss and not stuffy! He’d have a coffee and a croissant, or on second thoughts, maybe just a piece of fruit and some natural yoghurt and then he’d head into work and all would be right with his world again.
And going forward he’d be a bit more selective with his conquests. Or at least double-check their ages and single status.
Rocco was readjusting his rear-view mirror when he saw a flash of blond hair and high cheekbones in the reflection.
No! It couldn’t be!
He whipped round to look out of the back window to be sure.
Even two car lengths away and under the dim street lights, there was no mistaking the lean frame and the loose-limbed, laid-back gait of the man crossing the road and going into the bakery.
Jay Costello.
What had started as a bad day for Rocco now nosedived off the edge of awful and plummeted to unfathomable new depths of despair.
With a sinking heart, Rocco drove home, idly wondering if Jay’s bakery order had deviated from two sausage rolls and a Devonshire cream donut in the twelve years since he’d last seen him. And if it hadn’t, how the hell had he stayed so goddamned skinny?
CHAPTER 5
FRANKIE
‘Morning!’ Valentina trilled down the phone as Frankie answered, putting her onto hands-free as she trundled down a country lane in her van, ready to pick up the first of the dogs due for that day’s morning walk.
‘What are you up to?’ Frankie said.
‘I’m currently having a second breakfast.’
