Chapter 28
‘The food really was fantastic,’ Phoebe says once she and Luca are alone in the deli. She’s pretty certain she’s going to be dreaming about this food for weeks. The wine might also have something to do with her inhibitions dropping in front of her new neighbour.
‘Really?’ Luca asks, his face lighting up as he turns from the counter, where he’d been vigorously stirring a glass bowl of a creamy-looking liquid that fills the shop with the scent of lemon and vanilla.
All throughout her conversation with Kate, Phoebe had been aware of Luca’s presence in the kitchen or pottering about in the shop rearranging things on the shelves, even if she really didn’t want to care. Now that his attention is focused entirely on her, she feels her neck growing warm. Wine. It must be the wine.
‘Yeah. Really, really good.’
‘Did you like the olives?’ he asks excitedly. ‘I spent ages finding a Sicilian supplier who does the absolute best Nocellara ones out there. In my opinion anyway. I don’t understand how anyone could not like olives, but some people … I always think it’s because they haven’t had very good olives. Saying you don’t like olives is like saying you don’t like fruit – there are so many different kinds.’
He trips over his words, as though his mouth can’t keep up with his enthusiasm. His voice is bright with excitement, making him seem suddenly younger, and his hands gesture wildly. It makes her look a little more closely, noticing that his eyes are closer to caramel than hazelnut – if you were going to be precise about it.
‘They were great. What’s this?’ she asks, pointing to one of the final slices of cured ham that remains on the board to distract herself from analysing the exact shade of his eyes. Jesus, maybe she has had one glass too many! ‘I’ve never had anything like it.’
‘I love that one. It’s a Crudo di Cuneo from the foot of the Alps. It’s been cured for ten months, which is what gives it that amazing flavour. Look at that distribution of fat, isn’t it beautiful?’
‘Um, I guess so …’
‘Sorry. I can get a bit carried away when I talk about food.’
‘Don’t apologise. It’s nice to see someone who’s passionate about what they do. What’s that you’re making?’ she asks, gesturing to the bowl.
‘Sweet ricotta filling for tomorrow’s cannoli. They were my favourites growing up. My mum’s ones are the absolute best. I’m doing a batch of chocolate chip, one of pistachio and a lemon and vanilla. I was up late last night trying a few alterations to Mum’s recipe, although I’m not sure I’ve perfected it quite yet. Hey, could you try some of the filling and let me know what you think?’
As he turns away for a spoon, Phoebe reaches for the bottle of wine, only to find it’s empty. Kate has left nearly half a glass on her side of the table. Would it be so bad to finish it off? It would be a shame to let such nice wine go to waste, she tells herself as she quickly pours it into her own glass while Luca’s back is still turned.
‘Here we go.’ He passes over a spoon laden with a scoop of the creamy filling.
‘Wow! That’s good,’ she says as she licks the very last scrape of sauce off the spoon.
‘You think so? I’m not sure …’
‘No, seriously, that’s the best canno … callo … cannoli I’ve ever tasted.’
He laughs, and Phoebe thinks it might be one of the nicest sounds she’s heard in a long time.
‘I’m glad you liked it.’
She suddenly becomes aware of how foggy her brain feels. Maybe she should have stopped after a glass or two of wine. But she needed it after the day she’s had – after the week she’s had. It feels good to have everything softened like this. She feels relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, that she finds herself standing up and taking a step towards Luca.
He gives her a questioning look, raising one of his dark eyebrows. As if he’s asking a question she isn’t entirely sure of the answer to, only that his eyes look like caramel and he smells like vanilla and has a smudge of icing sugar on his nose and she misses the feeling of being held by someone and, well, why shouldn’t she just kiss him if she bloody well wants to?
She wobbles a little on the spot and Luca reaches out and takes hold of her hips, steadying her. The heat of his hands through her jeans gives her the confidence to lean forward, tilting her body towards him, mouth reaching for his. His lips are warm and surprisingly soft and it feels so good … until suddenly he is dropping his hands from her hips and stepping backwards. Phoebe stumbles, her arm catching against the table. The empty bottle of wine rolls onto the floor with a loud smash, followed by the wooden board, scattering the last remnants of the delicious food everywhere.
He stares at her and at the mess and she steadies herself against the table edge, her head spinning and embarrassment pooling in the pit of her stomach.
‘Oh shit.’
‘Don’t move, let me clear this up.’ Luca darts quickly into the kitchen, but Phoebe feels too mortified to wait until he returns. All she can think about is the feeling of him stepping away from her. She throws some money for the meal on the table and picks her way through the broken glass, letting the door swing shut behind her as she races, stumbling, upstairs to her empty flat.