Chapter 12
The Italian restaurant was located halfway down a cobbled lane just off the market square.
Gaby had forgotten just how many of these sweet lanes there were in Hamblehurst. Not that it was the sort of thing a seventeen-year-old would’ve paid much attention to all those years ago, especially not a seventeen-year-old who’d been too head-over-heels in love to notice features such as quaint cobblestones and old-fashioned streetlamps and the sweetly alluring character of the quietly lovely little town.
But Gaby noticed them now as they walked from the café bar to the restaurant Peter had chosen.
Even in the drizzling rain of a cold November evening, Hamblehurst was undeniably pretty.
The wet cobblestones gleamed beneath the golden glow from the streetlamps.
The shops and offices were shuttered for the night but the town centre still bubbled with life thanks to the music and chatter drifting out from the pubs and restaurants they passed.
Peter had produced an umbrella from his bag when they left the bar and Gaby was glad to huddle beneath it as the rain turned from soft drizzle to autumnal downpour.
By the time they reached the restaurant, they were running as they tried to stay dry and laughing as they skipped over puddles together.
Gaby clung to Peter’s arm as he covered them both with the umbrella. Pressed close into his side as they laughed their way through the downpour, she was almost sorry when they ducked beneath the entrance canopy and she no longer had an excuse to stay pinned against him.
Peter shook out the umbrella and held open the door for her. They were greeted inside by a waiter who took their wet coats and showed them to a table.
But they were both still laughing softly as they sat down, still shaking off the raindrops and enjoying the shared moment of their huddled run together beneath Peter’s umbrella.
“I forgot how quickly the autumn weather can turn in England and take you by surprise,” Gaby said.
“Took me by surprise too, to be honest,” Peter said. “If I’d known that downpour was coming, we could’ve waited in the bar until it passed. I hope you’re not too wet.”
“I’m fine. Your umbrella kept the worst of it at bay. And it was sort of fun running through the rain.”
His smile was warm and made his eyes twinkle. “Yeah, it was fun.”
They held each other’s gaze for a beat, enjoying the humour of the soaking they’d endured. Gaby was the first to look away, the blue depths of Peter’s eyes suddenly making her heart stutter.
The waiter reappeared with menus and took their drinks order. Gaby was glad of the interruption because she didn’t like the dangerous place her mind had wandered to while Peter’s gaze was locked on hers.
They discussed the menu and what they might choose. The waiter poured the bottle of wine Peter ordered and they nibbled on olives and bread while they settled on their dinner choices.
“This is a nice restaurant,” Gaby said once they’d ordered.
The interior was modern and comfortable, a mix of earthy colours, dark wood tables and chairs and elegant lighting.
A wood-fired pizza oven added warmth and theatre, and the bar with its mix of mirrors and uplighters looked like the perfect spot to linger with an after-dinner drink.
“It’s a popular place,” Peter said. “You made a good choice ordering the lasagne. It’s homemade and they’re famous for it around town. I would’ve ordered it too, but I can’t resist the chicken parmesan.”
“It sounds like you come here a lot.”
“I get together with some colleagues from school every few weeks for dinner and this is one of our favourite spots. Also, my dad is a big fan of this place, so when we have a special family occasion to celebrate he likes to come here.”
“In that case, I can’t wait to try the food. This bread is delicious.” She’d already devoured a slice of the pillowy ciabatta, tearing off pieces to dip into the silky olive oil and rich balsamic vinegar the waiter had brought.
“They make their own bread here, too,” Peter said, tearing a chunk from his second slice. “My sister says it’s completely lethal and should come with a health warning.”
Gaby laughed and was about to say something else when a man appeared at their table. He wore the smart attire of the restaurant staff and held a sheaf of paperwork beneath his arm.
“Peter, it’s great to see you,” the man said, clapping a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I must’ve missed your name on tonight’s reservations.”
Peter rose from the table with a smile and embraced the man. “Eddie, how are you my friend?”
“You know me, Peter, always busy.”
“Gaby, this is Eddie Carlotti,” Peter said once he’d sat down again. “He owns this place. Eddie, this is an old friend of mine, Gaby Leonard. She’s here visiting family for a few weeks.”
Gaby smiled and shook Eddie’s outstretched hand.
“Great to meet you, Gaby. Listen, don’t let this guy leave you with the bill once you finish your meal. He’s sneaky that way.”
“Ignore him,” Peter said, shaking his head. “He’s just trying to wind me up because I beat him at squash the last time we played.”
“You only won because you were cheating, Peter.”
“If that’s the lie you need to tell yourself to feel better about losing, then so be it.”
Gaby laughed as the two men grinned at each other.
“Are my people looking after you alright?” Eddie asked.
“Of course they are,” Peter said. “In fact, I think that’s our starters coming out now.”
The waiter emerged from the kitchen, plates in hand, and crossed the restaurant towards them.
“In that case, I’ll leave you to enjoy your food,” Eddie said. “Let me know if you need anything at all.”
“Thanks Eddie.”
Eddie smiled at them both and walked off to the bar area. The waiter set down their first course, stuffed mushrooms for Gaby and bruschetta for Peter.
“You’re well-connected, Peter,” Gaby said with a laugh. “When you said how much you liked this place, you didn’t mention you also know the owner.”
“That would’ve sounded like arrogant bragging.”
She couldn’t help smiling at his half-embarrassed, self-deprecating expression. “No, it wouldn’t. It’s a nice thing to live in a small town where people know each other.”
Peter seemed to consider what she’d said. “I didn’t know if Eddie would be here tonight. It might’ve seemed weird to mention it and then, if he wasn’t here, I’d end up looking like a name-dropping tosser.”
Gaby laughed, amused that he’d imagine she’d ever think of him that way. “He seems like a nice guy.”
“He’s a great guy. Terrible squash player, but a great guy.”
Gaby laughed again and sampled her food. The stuffed mushrooms were delicious. “It must be nice to be friends with the owner of one of your favourite local restaurants.”
“I knew Eddie from playing squash before he took over this place. He was the manager of a chain restaurant at the retail park before he decided to go into business for himself. His great-grandparents used to run their own restaurant. They were second-generation Italian immigrants who moved to London, and Eddie said he was always fascinated by their story and the business they’d set up.
He’s been running this place for about five years and has made a great success of it. ”
“It’s not hard to understand why it’s successful. It’s a gorgeous place and the food is wonderful.”
Peter smiled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“Hamblehurst seems to have a lot of independent businesses on the high street and around the town centre. It’s nice.”
“We’re very lucky. Which is why I like coming out to places like this. If we want to keep our independent restaurants, we have to come and eat here and help them stay in business. It’s not exactly a hardship.”
He wiggled his eyebrows as he devoured another forkful of bruschetta, making Gaby laugh again.
“These stuffed mushrooms really are excellent,” she said. “I could eat a whole plateful.”
“I’m glad you like the food. I don’t mind admitting I was nervous about taking you to dinner.”
Gaby paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Why?”
He gave her an uncertain look and Gaby’s heart started racing again, wondering what he might say and whether he was nervous for the same reason she was—because an intimate dinner like this might lead to something more.
Something more such as… their gazes locking for much too long across the table… or her hand reaching for his because she wanted desperately to remember what it felt like to lace her fingers between his.
“You’ve been all around the world, Gaby,” Peter said. “With all the amazing places you’ve lived and the fantastic hotels where you’ve worked, I know you must have enjoyed lots of spectacular food over the years. I didn’t want our little market town restaurants to be a disappointment in comparison.”
His words were such a contrast to the mad thoughts that were racing through her head that it took her a second to respond.
And to stop feeling foolish for having those thoughts in the first place.
How many times did she have to remind herself that this time with Peter was nothing more than a chance to catch up with a long-lost friend from her past?
While she was letting herself get carried away with ideas that he might still be attracted to her, he was actually worried that the small restaurant he’d taken her to wouldn’t be up to scratch.
“Peter, you must think I’m a terrible snob if you thought I’d come here looking to find fault,” she said, maybe more sharply than she planned to because the irritation with herself seeped into her words.
“Oh no, that’s not what I mean at all. I don’t think you’re a snob, Gaby. I could never think that.” Peter looked distraught.
Terrific, and now she’d gone and ruined a perfectly lovely moment. She felt awful.
“Sorry, that came out wrong,” she said and offered a smile to convey her apology. “I just mean that you don’t have to worry that I’m comparing this meal or this restaurant to anything, because I’m not.”