Chapter 13
13
As Andrea and I stroll arm in arm through the luxurious resort grounds, making our way to the hotel’s beachfront restaurant, I feel like I’m in a dream. Well, this can’t be my real life, surely? My real life never plays out like this – although, in fairness, it’s not real, is it? This is all for show. What a show, though!
The evening sun casts a golden glow over everything, bathing the bright green plants that seriously pop against all the white-rendered walls here. It’s the kind of sun that makes everyone look like they have a tan, even if they don’t – even if, like me, they’ve spent months and months in Manchester wearing dark clothes and barely seeing the sun.
This evening, despite us not knowing that this is what we were doing, I would say that the two of us have scrubbed up well. Andrea looks effortlessly chic in his cream shirt, the lightweight fabric moving gently in the breeze as he walks. The only difference between now and earlier is that he’s done up a few buttons, but it really makes a difference. Coupled with the smart blue trousers from the resort gift shop – that magically fit him, as though they were tailored just for him (which is wild, considering how muscular his legs are), he looks great.
As for me, well, I’m wearing one of the ‘out of character’ dresses that I picked up just for the trip. It’s a long red cocktail dress – one with a split much higher above the knee than I would usually dare to go (and yes, after what happened earlier, I am being extra cautious in it, lest I suffer another unfortunate wardrobe malfunction). Isn’t it funny how I bought this dress – along with all of my other outfits for the trip – in an attempt to impress Rick? It turns out all I really needed to impress him was a man (which I hate, but also shamelessly kind of love, because it’s working).
As crazy as it sounds, I feel like the backdrop is making us look all the more stylish this evening – who wouldn’t look good, surrounded by such stunning scenery?
As the path we are walking along leads us to the beach, the leaves rustling softly in the gentle breeze make way for wide open space, the roar of the ocean and softly played music. The air is perfumed with a mixture of all things Mediterranean, from the setting to the food – which must mean we’re nearing the restaurant.
I just love that everywhere I look, you see that unmistakable Italian charm. It’s not just the scenery, or the aromas, it’s the atmosphere too. Everyone we pass just seems so chilled out and happy – and another thing I’ve noticed is that Andrea seems to turn the head of almost every woman he passes. I don’t blame them, though.
The day is slowly fading away, making way for the night, so the temperature has dropped to that level where your skin feels warmed just enough to appreciate the cool breeze brushing against it.
‘Is there anything that I need to know?’ Andrea asks, his question pulling me from my thoughts. ‘Or anything I need to do?’
‘Well, you’ve met Rick and James. I’d be wary of Liz, because you could end up being collateral damage if you’re too close to me, but the others are mostly easy to get along with. I think we’re just going to have to go with the flow,’ I reply with a laugh, feeling the weight of this beyond surreal situation lifting from my shoulders, even if it is only for a few minutes. ‘I still can’t believe this is happening – any of it. That we’re here, that you’re you, that we’re pretending to be engaged just to impress my boss.’
‘It’s definitely not how I imagined the two of us meeting for the first time,’ Andrea muses. ‘But it would have been a lot harder to navigate when we were teenagers, if we had stayed in each other’s houses, right? With the misunderstanding…’
‘I suppose there is that,’ I agree, nodding along. ‘Although, thinking about it, having you by my side probably would have made me a lot more popular at school too – especially with the girls.’
Andrea’s grin widens in a way that cannot be described by any word other than ‘delicious’.
‘Perhaps I could rent myself out,’ he jokes playfully. ‘For work, for parties, for any events.’
‘Oh, you would make a fortune ,’ I reply. ‘Just don’t start charging until after tonight, please, because I’m not sure I could afford you.’
Andrea stops in his tracks, taking me by both of my hands, pulling me close.
‘Robin…’
‘Robin?’ a familiar voice calls out, interrupting him before he can say whatever it is he was going to say.
Oh, of course it’s Liz.
Andrea lets go of one of my hands but keeps hold of the other.
‘Hello, Liz,’ I greet her with as much brightness as I can muster.
‘Robin, oh my God, is this your fiancé?’ Liz asks, her disbelief palpable, her eyes darting between Andrea and me as if she might find the answer to her real question somewhere in between us. I’ll bet she’s wondering how someone like me has managed to bag someone like Andrea.
‘ Ciao ,’ Andrea greets her, his smile warm but guarded. ‘You must be the Liz that I’ve heard so many stories about.’
‘All good, I hope,’ Liz replies, her smile widening as she focuses all of her attention on Andrea. There’s a glint in her eye that I can’t quite decipher, but I can’t shake the feeling that she’s up to something. I mean, come on, it’s Liz. She’s always up to something.
Andrea doesn’t say a word. He smiles, but in a way that is polite and yet noncommittal. It’s somehow reassuring but done so in a way that doesn’t satisfy her curiosity, and I am here for it.
‘Rick said you were coming to dinner,’ Liz continues, her gaze flickering between us once again – oh, boy, she really can’t get her head around it and it is so satisfying. ‘I look forward to finding out more about you.’
As she gives Andrea’s shoulder a squeeze, I could swear I notice her wink at him, but I can’t be sure. She’s such a villain that it’s so easy to see the worst in her sometimes. Regardless, I can’t help but roll my eyes internally at her super thinly veiled attempt to charm him. As if she thinks she can swoop in and steal my ‘fiancé’ – even if he is a fake one, she can’t possibly think she can succeed, can she? I mean, I guess she could, because Andrea is a free agent who can do whatever he wants, and Liz does often get her way. But she can’t pull it off over a single dinner, can she? And you would think that not even Liz would have the audacity to steal someone’s actual fiancé, if she even had the skill. Surely even Liz can’t be that delusional.
The resort’s beachfront restaurant is somehow both laid-back and elegant. As we approach, the soft glow of string lights illuminates the outdoor dining area, framing the space like stars in the night sky. The gentle murmur of waves crashing against the shore is still just about audible over the ambient music, and it creates the perfect mood for a summer holiday dinner.
The host shows us to our table, where some members of our party are already waiting.
At a large round table adorned with a bright white tablecloth, Rick, Julie, Cait, and Henry are already seated. There’s no sign of James yet, though.
As soon as Rick catches sight of Andrea, his face lights up with a level of enthusiasm usually reserved for a dead relative.
As he jumps to his feet, he almost knocks over one of the lit candles on the table. Luckily he manages to steady it, before the whole table goes up in flames – surely starting a fire is way more my style, right?
‘Andrea, the hero of the day!’ Rick exclaims as he falls over himself to greet him. ‘Come here, sit next to me. I saved you and Robin seats right by my side.’
Liz’s expression darkens slightly, and I know it makes me sound like a bitch but I feel a wave of satisfaction crash over me at the sight. It’s a small victory, but in this moment, it feels like everything is falling into place.
‘I’ll sit opposite you,’ Liz informs Rick, trying to act like it’s all good, but he’s far too preoccupied with Andrea to pay her much attention. ‘So that we can chat.’
‘I’m starving now,’ Rick announces eagerly as he pats his own stomach with both hands. ‘Let’s order, asap.’
‘James isn’t here,’ Liz points out, mildly irritated that she isn’t the centre of attention, and neither is James – it’s usually one of them.
‘So, Andrea…’ Rick begins, totally oblivious to Liz’s whiny voice.
Oh my God, he can’t even hear her. This is brilliant.
‘ Rick , I said James isn’t here,’ Liz repeats, her patience wearing thin.
‘Oh, right,’ Rick acknowledges, finally registering Liz’s comment, but not seeming all that bothered. ‘Well, we can always make a start. Andrea, what are you having?’
I smile to myself. Rick is like a kid with a new best friend. He’s like this, though, when he meets someone he likes – apparently he just gets these feelings about people – he goes all in on them.
Andrea takes a moment to look over the menu, his brows furrowing slightly as he wonders what to choose.
‘I want to order what a real Italian would have,’ Rick declares confidently.
‘Well, antipasto to start,’ Andrea starts. ‘It’s a platter of local meats and cheeses. Then, for the second course… ah. Orecchiette with braciole alla Barese .’
‘Wow, it sounds so real in your accent,’ Cait comments, unable to hide that she’s a little starry-eyed by it all.
‘What is it?’ Liz asks, raising an eyebrow.
‘It doesn’t matter what it is,’ Rick replies, dismissing her question with a wave of his hand. ‘We’ll all have it. An Italian recommendation from a real Italian. This is what we need, to get into the mindset of our client. Andrea, will you order it for us, please?’
‘Of course,’ Andrea replies graciously, his demeanour as charming as ever as he flags down a waiter.
‘How do you say “please” in Italian?’ Rick asks curiously once Andrea is done.
I genuinely believe that Rick thinks learning one word per sentence is going to get him somewhere.
‘ Per favore ,’ Andrea responds, slowly and clearly.
‘ Per favore , per favore ,’ Rick repeats to himself, trying to commit the phrase to memory.
‘So, are all Italians foodies?’ Henry chimes in.
It’s like everyone is interested in Andrea. He is impossibly charming, though; it’s hard not to feel taken with him.
‘No, Andrea is a chef,’ I interject excitedly, feeling oddly proud, as if he were my actual fiancé.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ James announces, joining the conversation as he plonks himself down into his chair. ‘I went to check out the pool, got talking to these two girls…’
‘Do you work in a restaurant?’ Rick talks over him, his attention now solely focused on Andrea.
Usually Rick has all the time in the world for James’s exploits, but not today, it seems.
James looks slightly wounded, but he attempts to brush it off with a double dose of (entirely forced) nonchalance. He glances around the room, as though he’s looking for someone, although I’m sure he isn’t.
‘No, my parents have a restaurant, though,’ Andrea replies. ‘I come up with recipes, for suppliers, for products, for restaurants – that sort of thing.’
‘Oh, so you will be familiar with Come a Casa?’ Rick enquires curiously.
‘ Sì ,’ Andrea replies. ‘They’re not a company I have worked for, but I know them.’
‘What are you working on at the moment?’ Rick presses on. ‘Anything you can tell us about?’
‘I’m between projects at the moment,’ Andrea explains. ‘I just sold several recipes to a restaurant.’
‘Ooh, can you tell us about them?’ Cait jumps in eagerly.
‘I developed the fillings for their ravioli and tortellini dishes,’ Andrea elaborates. ‘They plan to bring them out in supermarkets, as ready-to-cook, so I make a little extra money for them.’
‘Wow, that’s amazing,’ Rick exclaims, impressed. ‘That’s almost stepping on Come a Casa’s toes.’
Andrea shrugs modestly.
‘I just create the dishes,’ he says humbly.
‘I would love to try your cooking sometime then,’ Rick says enthusiastically.
‘Oh, absolutely,’ I chime in, seizing the opportunity to remind Rick of my connection to Andrea, because that’s what all of this is for, even if it’s all part of the charade and never going to happen.
The waiter arrives with the first course – delicious-looking platters piled high with an array of cold meats, different cheeses, olives, and more.
‘Now then, what are these?’ Rick asks, eyeing a bowl of small, knotted breadstick-looking things with interest.
‘ Taralli ,’ Andrea responds. He lifts one to his nose and inhales. ‘These are with fennel. Try one, they’re delicious.’
Andrea effortlessly pops one into his mouth, and who knew it was possible to make eating look so cool?
‘So, come on then, we’re all dying to know, how did the two of you meet?’ Liz asks us. ‘Like, how did that happen?’
Generously, she could mean that it seems unbelievable that we met because I’m from England and Andrea is from Italy but, knowing Liz, she probably does mean to cause offence.
‘We met when we were kids,’ Andrea begins. ‘In a way.’
I raise a curious eyebrow in his direction. Oh, so we’re telling the truth, eh? I suppose that’s a good idea. Too many lies will be too hard to keep up with.
‘We were pen pals when we were at school,’ I join in. ‘We didn’t meet up properly until we were adults, though, and, well, the rest is history.’
‘It was love at first sight,’ Andrea adds, his eyes softening as he gazes at me – oh, that’s good. ‘I knew right away that she was the woman I wanted to marry.’
As I scan the table, I notice a real rollercoaster of reactions, and it’s hard to tell who is the most annoyed, Liz or James. Rick is, of course, captivated.
‘Wow, that’s like a fairy tale,’ Cait practically sighs.
‘I can’t believe you’ve never mentioned it,’ Julie chimes in – not that she means anything by it.
‘Yeah, neither can I,’ Liz adds, her tone suspicious – she definitely means something by it.
‘Oh, wait, is this why you said you were some kind of Italy expert?’ Cait asks.
Oh my gosh, this one has been handed to me on a platter.
‘Yes,’ I say keenly.
‘I assume this is a long-distance relationship?’ Liz checks.
‘Yep,’ I reply. ‘Always has been.’
‘But we make it work,’ Andrea adds. ‘We’ve always been good at that.’
‘Well, that’s great. Come on, let’s dig in,’ Rick suggests cheerfully. ‘Our mains will be here soon – I’m excited to find out what it is.’
‘I’m sure you’ll like it,’ Andrea assures him. ‘It’s a local dish. If they’ve made the sauce correctly, it will have taken hours.’
‘Good things come to those who wait,’ Julie remarks.
‘Like Robin and Andrea, finally getting together, after all that time,’ Rick adds, raising his glass. ‘In fact, a toast, to their engagement – now that we know about it. To Robin and Andrea.’
‘To Robin and Andrea,’ everyone echoes, some more reluctantly than others.
As I take a sip of my drink, I can’t resist smiling smugly to myself. This may not have been the Andrea I was expecting, but it turns out to be just the Andrea I need.