A Place in the Sun(65)

His mouth twisted in a sort of frown. “I’m allergic to cats.”

Brilliant, I thought. It was decided: we’d keep the cat.

“Oh.” She frowned. “I should have anticipated that. We’ll keep him out of the common areas and all that. If you feel your allergies kicking in, we’ll move him to Gianluca’s villa for the duration of your stay.”

He seemed fine with that compromise and went on, saying he wasn’t really that allergic, though I’d caught a few sniffles. Good boy, Mopsie.

She continued checking him in. I had work to do, but instead I watched this odd exchange take place, trying to squash the burning feeling in my lungs.

“Well if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room!”

“Great. The place looks fantastic, by the way. Did you design it?” he asked, lifting his bags and flexing the bicep on her side. Bloody hell, what a wanker. I’d seen enough.

“Let’s go Mopsie.” I clicked my tongue and patted my thigh like I was dealing with a dog. Surprisingly, Mopsie listened, following after me as I took the stairs two at a time.





TAYLOR WAS A food critic for a prominent American magazine. He’d told me the name, but I’d promptly forgotten. He seemed eager to explore Vernazza and told me as I finished checking him in that his plan was to spend a few weeks in Vernazza and use it as a home base to explore the surrounding towns and villages.

He was working on a restaurant guide for the Italian Riviera, which sounded so posh and exciting. I told him about Massimo’s restaurant. He seemed keen on profiling something outside the square and a little off the beaten path.

“I’m always on the lookout for hidden gems. Should we go there for lunch?” he asked, his face lighting up with boyish charm.

“I’d love to! Let me go see if Gianluca could join us. He’s just up working on a few last minute repairs upstairs.”

“Oh? Gianluca?”

I nodded. “Yeah he is…well…” It took me a second to realize he wasn’t asking me to define my very confusing relationship; he just wanted a general idea of who Gianluca was in relation to the bed and breakfast. “He’s the man who was here when you walked in. He owns this place actually. I think you’ll really get on with him, and as a local he’ll be able to recommend loads more restaurants than I can.”

He nodded eagerly. “Sounds great.”

It was settled after that. I showed Taylor up to his room to let him get unpacked a bit and then I agreed to meet him downstairs in half an hour for lunch.

Gianluca was in the second-floor bedroom and just before I reached up to knock on the door, I heard him on the phone with someone.

“We don’t need to make a big show of it. I’d rather just go to dinner.”

The person on the other end seemed to disagree.

Gianluca sighed. “Listen, if you’re set on celebrating my birthday, we’ll go out for drinks or something. Nothing major, right?”

Birthday?

He hadn’t said anything to me about it.

He offered a quick goodbye to the person on the other end of the line, who I now suspected was Massimo, and then I knocked gently.

“Come in.”

“Hey.” I poked my head past the door and saw him hunched over a can of paint, mixing it as Mopsie played beside him, clawing at a wooden stirrer of his own. “Taylor wanted to go grab some lunch so I was going to take him up to Massimo’s restaurant. Could you manage to take a short break and come with us? He’s a food critic and I told him you’d know of all the good places to eat in Cinque Terre.”

He frowned and glanced down to Mopsie and then to the open can of paint. “I ought to stay here for now. I just started and this paint will dry out if I leave it like this.”

I almost asked about just putting the lid back on it, but I knew better. The paint was just an excuse.

“Oh. Okay. Right. I’ll tell Taylor we’ll go another time then.”

I made to back out of the room and he shook his head. “It’s okay if you go on with him by yourself, if you want to.”

The fact that we were still on unclear terms made such a simple proposition seem wildly fraught with complications. We’d only made up the night before and I quite liked the peace between us, even if it was a bit fake.

“Yeah, right. Still…” I didn’t finish the second part of my sentence: I’d rather not go without you.



…



I did end up going to Massimo’s restaurant that day, but it was by myself and for an entirely different reason: to plan a birthday surprise for Gianluca. It was his thirtieth, after all; drinks and a quick dinner wouldn’t do. He deserved a proper celebration and Massimo was fully on board with my plan. He promised to phone everyone and arrange the details. All I had to worry about was getting Gianluca to the train station on time.

Easier said than done.

The morning of his birthday surprise, I woke up feeling like I needed another ten hours of sleep. I could barely pry my eyes open and when I did, I spotted Gianluca across the room, pulling on jeans and buttoning them at his waist. What a beautiful, beautiful sight. His tan skin was on full display, and his hair was all mussed up from my hands the night before. Still, the sight couldn’t rouse me from bed. I felt like a ton of bricks were weighing me down. I’d stayed up the night before tossing and turning, worrying over every little detail of his birthday. I wanted it to be special for Gianluca, but now I found myself wishing I’d managed a minute or two of actual rest. I needed it for the day ahead.