Chapter 13 #2
Tad hesitated, then pushed himself upright. ‘Painkillers. Sorry – I was miles away.’
Amy trailed him as he headed into the professional part of the kitchens and rifled around in a drawer. He handed her a blister pack of ibuprofen.
‘Any use?’
‘Perfect. Thanks.’
‘Fancy a bite to eat?’ he added, reaching to pass her a glass for water. ‘I’m thinking taleggio with some thin slices of pear and grissini? I’ve got some fresh lemonade, too. Made with local lemons – of course.’ He grinned and so did she.
‘What do you think? Does it sound edible?’ he added.
‘Sounds delicious. Yes please.’ Amy swallowed a couple of pills. ‘Unless I’m taking up too much of your time.’
Tad fixed her gaze for a beat of time Amy thought longer than necessary – or perhaps that was what she wished – before he said, ‘You are welcome to take up as much of my time as you want.’
‘I bet you say that to all your guests,’ she said, aware she was fishing but unable to stop herself.
‘In this context,’ he said, ‘I definitely wouldn’t say that to all the guests.’
His gaze intensified, and Amy willed him to come closer to her. Instead, the moment passed, his expression lightened, and he grinned. ‘I’ve only got enough lemonade for two, so…’
Amy frowned. This was becoming impossible to navigate – as soon as she thought he meant more than he was actually saying, he retreated again. This time using humour as a shield. Two could play at that game.
‘Did you squeeze the lemons yourself?’ she asked, her face as ramrod as she could manage as she watched his eyebrows lift, then the edges of his eyes crinkle as he smiled.
‘What do you think?’ he said with a laugh, pulling a small bottle of cloudy lemonade from the fridge.
They shared the food sitting outside the kitchen door, on a couple of fold-out deck chairs Tad said he’d found in one of the storage cupboards not long after he’d arrived.
‘Got to have somewhere outside to escape the heat of the kitchen every now and again,’ he said.
The tiny courtyard area was shielded from the main garden by a beautifully planted trellis of flowering shrubs, secluded and hidden from anyone’s view. The perfect spot for Tad to grab a moment to himself. Amy bit at the side of her lip. It was the perfect place to kiss someone, too.
‘How do you say your name again? Your proper name?’
Amy had completed a handful of Duolingo Italian lessons on her phone, could say Ciao, per favore and grazie but had mastered little else.
Now she knew Tad had more of a connection to this place than she’d been expecting, it seemed natural to call him by the name his mother had given him. But she wanted to do it right.
‘Taddeo,’ he said, smothering the word with a thick layer of Italian accent. ‘But nobody calls me that. Not even Mamma, not any longer.’
‘Taddeo,’ Amy said, rolling the word across her tongue as she tried to replicate his accent.
‘That’s it.’
‘Are you fluent in Italian, then?’ Amy asked.
‘Mi piacerebbe esserlo. Conosco le basi, tutto qui.’ He grinned.
‘Pardon?’ Amy frowned in confusion.
‘I said I’d like to be. I know the basics, but that’s all. At least, I think that’s what I said.’
Amy began to laugh. ‘It sounded convincing to me.’
‘Grazie mille,’ he said.
‘Fluent in Italian and Scottish,’ she said, ‘Quite the package, aren’t you?’
She meant it as a joke, a silly comment about his Scottish accent being its own language. Instead of taking her joke and running with it, Tad stilled, staring at her.
‘I’m far more than the sum of my heritage, if that’s what you mean?’ He sounded annoyed.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Amy said, swallowing. ‘I was trying to make a bad joke about your Scottish accent. Sorry.’
‘So, it’s nothing to do with me being half Italian?’
Amy frowned. ‘No. Why would it be?’
Tad’s frown deepened to match hers. ‘But I thought, Billie said…’ He paused, his frown dissipating as he shook his head and stared at her. ‘Doesn’t matter – I expect I misinterpreted her. And yes, I think a proper Scottish accent should be something to be enjoyed as much as anything Mediterranean.’
‘I love both,’ she said, without thinking and meaning every word. ‘But what people say is of far more interest than the accent they say it with, don’t you think?’
‘Aye, I do.’
Amy’s cheeks flared with heat, his focus on her intense and overwhelming. She wanted to make the most of this moment but didn’t know how.
‘I suppose we’d better take the plates back in,’ she said, making a grab for her plate and standing awkwardly. ‘Oh, ouch.’ The pain from her ribs stabbed at her, reminding her the injury wasn’t to be ignored as Tad stood and took the plate from her, and she rubbed at her side.
‘Still painful?’ he asked.
‘Mmm.’ She tried to smile through the pain, tipping her face to his as she edged forwards and held his gaze.
‘Amy, I…’
‘I can think of something that might make the pain go away,’ she said, shocked at the blatant nature of her own words, watching as he worked through what she’d said, holding his gaze as she pressed a hand against his chest and felt the warmth of his skin through his thin top.
His breath quickened as he circled the back of her waist with his free hand and gently pulled her even closer.
He dipped his lips to hers. A feather-light brush, then another touch was followed by something with far more intent.
His kiss lingered, Amy losing herself in the sheer sensation of having his lips against hers, their exploration of one another turning what already felt great into something volcanic.
She dragged her lips far enough away to be able to tell him it was working, that her ribs didn’t hurt any longer, but he wasn’t listening, and they were kissing again and his hand strayed lower, below the waistband of her jeans as he pulled her against his hips and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hoping this moment would last for at least a week, maybe two.
She whispered his name against his lips, kept the rest of the sentence to herself as she acknowledged that she wanted this man, wanted him more than she had anyone else for a very long time – possibly ever.
It was madness, and was only going to end abruptly, but right now Amy couldn’t care less.
Right now, all she wanted was right now.
But then, as suddenly as it started, Tad was pulling away, stepping back. Piling up plates and glasses. The shake of his head was gentle, but it was there.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, Amy. I apologise.’
‘Why?’ she said.
‘I don’t want to cause any problems,’ he said.
‘Problems with what?’ she asked, the frown clouding his expression deep enough to stop her from asking why kissing him could be so problematic?
Was he worried about what Billie would think?
Did he think Billie would be pissed off if she felt she wasn’t monopolising his attention?
Was it something to do with Casa del Cibo?
‘I think it’s better if we…’ Tad swallowed, his gaze dipping away from hers. ‘I think it’s better if we stop. Don’t you?’
Amy couldn’t work out what was causing him to hold back, but he was already on his way back into the kitchen. She sighed and made to leave, but Tad doubled back. ‘I’m so sorry – please feel free to stay here as long as you want. Enjoy the sunshine. Help yourself to anything from the kitchen.’
Amy shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. What’s wrong, Taddeo?’
He frowned. ‘I’d rather you stick with “Tad”, if that’s OK with you.’
It was as though he’d slapped her, and Amy struggled to stay calm as she thanked him for lunch and headed for a quiet spot in Casa’s larger garden. Somewhere to hide, to recalibrate. Somewhere hopefully even Billie wouldn’t be able to find her, for a while at least.
When a text buzzed into her phone a while later, from Billie and telling Amy they’d found the most fantastic pizza place and Malcolm had eaten his bodyweight in calzone, Amy struggled to raise a smile.
Even at the part when Billie said it was the first time in a long while that she’d gone completely unrecognised.
It should be amusing that they’d chosen somewhere run by someone who couldn’t care less what Billie Forsythe-Rogers thought of their cuisine. Although it was formidable, her reputation didn’t encompass the entire globe. She wasn’t Taylor Swift.
With a sigh, Amy stood. She supposed she should snap out of it and get her notebook, try to do some work.
Admit that she was even more confused about the world of love than ever before.
She wandered back through the gardens, hand trailing through long, ornamental grasses in one border before she reached the huge patio and the massive, open bifold doors leading into the breakfast room and on through to the rest of the building.
Voices echoed through from the cool serenity of the wide reception area, the doors to the main entrance thrown wide and pieces of luggage littering the rich tones of the floor tiles. The new guests had arrived.
A middle-aged couple dragging wheeled hand luggage bustled through the doorway, claiming larger suitcases already in the lobby before heading for the staircase.
The man, confident in his stride and with their room key already dangling from one hand, nodded and smiled in greeting as he marched past. His wife, shoving dark glasses up into a wild tangle of grey curls, grinned as she floated past, her cases tick-ticking against the tiled floor and her pleasant floral perfume reaching Amy’s nostrils and lingering after they’d both disappeared around the curve of the stairs in search of their room.
More voices wafted in from outside. Amy recognised one of them as Tad’s, while the other was unfamiliar.
Female. Amy couldn’t hear what she was saying but laughter lifted the woman’s voice.
The enthusiasm and happiness of the latest arrivals had Amy grinning too.
Tad must have chosen to greet them on the steps outside, with room keys at the ready.
Amy moved closer. She saw Tad, animated in his greeting of this guest. Amy crossed the reception area to see who he was talking to.
As the woman came into view – slender, blonde hair in a pixie cut, and much younger than the other two arrivals – Amy frowned.
As she watched, the woman wrapped her arms around Tad’s neck, leaning into him.
For his part, Tad folded his arms around her, they meshed together as though they were one.
Amy stilled, watched as the woman leant in, whispering something in Tad’s ear.
He laughed, threw his head back and hooted with genuine joy, before wrapping her up again in a ferocious hug.
Amy felt sick. How hadn’t she even considered that Tad might already have a girlfriend? How had she been so na?ve? Not na?ve, stupid would be a more accurate word. She’d been so busy analysing how she was beginning to feel about him, she hadn’t stopped to consider what now seemed pitifully obvious.
Tad was already involved with someone. With this woman.
No wonder he’d pushed her away.
Before either of them noticed her, or she had to witness them kissing, Amy scuttled back the way she’d come, headed for her room and locked herself inside.