The Summer of Everything, page 18
Riley’s smile was tight. ‘I know the reason, Belle. I’m not one of them. I’m not fluent in their language or from a big family, I’m not Catholic, and I can’t cook. And I realise this confuses him too because we love each other. We talk about family and children and me staying here long-term. But none of it matters if they won’t accept me.’
‘Then Leo should fight for you.’
Riley’s expression grew sad. ‘It’s easy to say that, but more complicated than you think. He’s being pulled in two different directions. He doesn’t want to disappoint them, and he doesn’t want to lose me, so what can he do? I’m constantly hovering at the fringe. He says one day soon he’ll tell them about me. When the time is right. When they’re ready to hear it.’
‘And when will that be?’
‘He doesn’t know.’ She shook her head and sighed deeply. ‘Anyway, he’s going to the Alps and I’m staying. For two whole weeks, if you can stand to have me that long.’
‘Are you kidding? Two weeks won’t be long enough.’
Riley reached across to squeeze Belle’s hand. ‘I’ve missed you, kid.’
‘Don’t get me started,’ Belle said with a frown.
Riley managed a small laugh. ‘I think the time apart will be good for me and Leo. He needs to miss me, to know what life might be like if he doesn’t sort this out soon.’
‘That’s probably all he needs.’
Belle then confessed to Riley her intimacy with Andre the night before, but Riley didn’t seem surprised. ‘I’m wondering what took you both so long.’
Belle nudged her with her elbow. ‘I really like him.’
‘I know you do.’ Riley smiled. ‘Are you guys together? I mean, properly.’
‘I think so. We first kissed a few weeks ago. But he hasn’t told anyone yet, and I’m not sure he wants to.’
Riley nodded with a thoughtful expression. ‘Give him time. Andre will do the right thing; I know it. And then, you’re going to slot right into his family. Uncle Benito already loves you like a daughter, and you can cook and speak the language. It’s nothing like me and Leo.’
‘Yes, I suppose.’ Uncle Benito might adore her, and she may have been considered part of the family, but deep down inside, Belle worried her situation was not all that different from Riley’s.
Uncle Benito invited the local priest and some close family friends from the nearby village for Christmas lunch. By midday, the farmhouse was brimming with people, tree lights flickering and the crackle of the fire warming the rooms.
Belle and Uncle Benito’s lunch adorned the dining table, replete with pork and crackling, spiced cherries and gravy, bowls of prawn and pasta salads, and a tray of golden roasted vegetables. There was hot, scented bread with herbed crust, pine nut couscous, and a crab and leek lasagne that Uncle Benito had been unable to resist ‘whipping up’.
They had worked tirelessly in the kitchen, hardly noticing the festivities in other parts of the house. As everyone sat down to eat and dishes of food were passed around the table, glasses of wine steadily poured, Belle caught Uncle Benito’s wink over the heads of the others and they shared a smile, one that was borne from trust and friendship in the kitchen.
Maybe Riley was right. Maybe she was overthinking the whole thing. All Andre needed from her was time and patience to tell people, especially his father, when the time was right. Pressuring him would do more harm than good.
After lunch, amidst the groans from those who had gorged themselves, the table was cleared and reset, ready for dessert. To allow their lunch to settle before the next course, everyone gathered around the Christmas tree, balancing glasses of wine precariously on laps as they sat.
Riley curled up beside Belle on the sofa and passed her a white rectangular box that she’d plucked from the pile of gifts beneath the tree. When Belle opened it, she discovered a crystal photo frame inside with a photograph of the two of them taken outside the gates of Buckingham Palace, during their trip to London in what felt like a lifetime ago.
‘This was the last photo we had taken together,’ Riley said, with an unusual amount of sentiment. ‘And that’s my fault, I know.’
Belle hugged it close to her chest. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you. And for the record, we’re both to blame for that.’ She reached for her gift to Riley—a navy blue Balenciaga bag she’d bought in Milan with Andre, which Riley squealed at when she unwrapped it.
Belle gifted Uncle Benito a collection of Australian cookbooks and he gifted her a set of professional chef’s knives. To Andre, she passed a small bag with cologne and a cashmere scarf inside. She’d deliberated at length about buying it. Her first instinct was to choose a gift of significance, a watch, or engraved cufflinks, maybe a gold chain—a present that spoke of the way she felt about him, but the perplexing start to their relationship had made her doubt herself. When Andre discreetly slipped a long, thin jewellery box, tied with a gold ribbon, into her hands, she was instantly embarrassed, regretful that she hadn’t trusted her instincts. She tugged the ribbon off and opened the lid. Inside, on a satin bed, lay a white gold necklace with a round diamond pendant.
She sucked in her breath.
‘Do you like it?’ he whispered, watching her reaction intently.
‘It’s beautiful.’ She touched the pendant with her fingertips, floored by it. Never had she received a more beautiful gift.
He covered the box with his hand and pressed it down, out of sight. ‘We’ll put it on you later, okay?’ Clearing his throat, he moved away from her.
She closed the lid and dropped it into her lap, glancing around the room. Her gaze met with Uncle Benito’s, standing by the fireplace staring at her, eyes narrowed, a perplexed look on his face. He’d seen the gift exchange, may have even noticed the white gold necklace and sparkling pendant inside, wondering why his son would give expensive jewellery to his sous chef. She could almost hear his thoughts turning over, clicking into place.
She quickly shifted her eyes away, unsettled by his apparent disapproval, and slipped the jewellery box into her pocket, feeling the weight of its beauty and its sin.
Twenty-Four
The two weeks at the Tuscan farmhouse were over too soon, and everyone was back in Rome the day after Epiphany. Under cold, wintery skies, Rome sluggishly returned to life and Valentina’s reopened for business.
With Avery still in Canada until the end of January and Riley returning to Leo’s apartment after his vacation to the Alps, Belle had the apartment on Corsia Agonale to herself. This meant that when Andre walked her home of an evening, they no longer spent hours talking on the steps outside, rather they spent them in her bed, burrowed beneath the covers.
One night after work, they lay in bed beside each other, their breath steadying and their skin cooling. Andre traced his fingers along her bare shoulder and down to her breast where the white gold necklace and diamond pendant he’d given her for Christmas rested.
‘I love that you wear my necklace,’ he said. ‘I never want you to take it off.’ He kissed her neck, then her lips.
She let him fold her into his arms. Although it was late, they still had one more glorious hour before he reluctantly pulled his clothes on and walked home to the apartment he shared with Uncle Benito. They’d been desperate to steal a weekend away in Positano or Florence, but despite Rome still waking from its new year slumber, Valentina’s had been busy, and Uncle Benito was declining staff leave requests.
‘I’ll always wear it,’ Belle said, touching the necklace, pressing it close to her chest, to her heart. She pushed herself up onto one elbow to glance down at him. ‘Can I talk to you about something?’
‘Sure.’ He propped himself onto one elbow too. Although it was winter, his skin was still golden and smooth, his arms taut, and she loved to lie in them.
‘Your father saw you give this to me.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘The necklace?’
‘Yes. On Christmas Day. I couldn’t tell you while we were in Tuscany because we were never left alone, but yes, he saw. Has he said anything to you?’
Andre shook his head. ‘No. Maybe you’re mistaken.’
‘I don’t think so. He didn’t look happy.’
‘If Benito has something on his mind, he says it. We don’t need to worry.’
‘I think we should tell him.’ she said, the words rushing out.
He glanced at her abruptly.
‘I mean, isn’t it time we stopped sneaking around like teenagers?’ It had been six weeks since their first kiss on the steps outside and at times, it was hard to see their progress, stuck in a timelapse.
He dropped onto his back. ‘Yes, we will tell him. I promise. I’m just waiting for the right moment.’
‘Maybe there will never be a right moment. Maybe you just need to do it.’
‘It’s not that easy, Belle.’
‘Why, because of Mary?’
He sighed. ‘You know it’s complicated.’
‘Oh, I know. Riley’s been hearing the same excuses for months.’
A flash of hurt crossed his face. ‘This is not the same thing.’
‘I’m failing to see the difference.’
‘Okay, yes, it’s taken longer than I thought, but you have to understand Mary and I were almost married. The date was set, the guests invited, the rings bought. And I broke it off. Two weeks before the wedding I ended things. Her parents were so gracious about it, so understanding, even when I caused their daughter pain and cost them a fortune in cancellation fees. They haven’t pushed me because they think all I need is more time, which makes me feel even worse.’
‘Then shouldn’t you tell them the truth?’
‘Yes, but how do you break someone’s heart all over again?’ he asked. He sounded tired—tired of her pushing, tired of the situation, tired of Mary’s family holding a noose of guilt around his neck.
Andre was a decent person, a beautiful soul and he loathed to hurt anyone. It was what Belle loved most about him, but it still begged the question. Where did that leave her? In the shadow of an almost wedding? Unable to move forward because Mary and her parents and Uncle Benito were hoping, praying, that Andre would change his mind?
He exhaled slowly and took her hand, gently running his thumb over her knuckles. ‘I understand this is frustrating for you. I hate it too, talking in whispers and kissing you in secret. Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to tell everyone about us. You don’t know how crazy I am about you. But I also don’t want to upset anyone, least of all my father.’
His eyes were full of conflict, and she bit down on her next complaint, reminded once again that he was caught between what he wanted and what was expected of him.
‘I’m going to speak to him next week,’ he said resolutely, ‘and I’m sure he won’t like what I have to say, but you’re right. We can’t keep living like this. And he will yell and scream, but that’s just too bad.’
‘I thought because I work in the kitchen with him, he’d be okay with the idea.’
Andre’s eyes were full of sympathy. ‘He adores you, Belle. Don’t ever think otherwise. But this is about so much more than that. It’s about culture and family and his friendship with Mary’s parents.’
‘I don’t stand a chance, do I?’
‘You do. And I’m going to make this right. I promise.’
She stared into his eyes and saw it there. Determination. All that she needed to hold on a little longer, to fight another day.
He slid closer to her, bridging the gap, and she tilted her head back, letting his lips graze her collarbone, her neck, then her mouth, hands roaming, until the grievances of earlier were forgotten. Belle closed her eyes as his body sought the places that made her weak, made her lightheaded, made her run her hands hungrily through his thick hair and across the bunched muscles in his back, rolling him on top of her. It was a rhythm they were growing accustomed to, one that had bound them together that snowy Christmas Eve. And when he moved inside her, she felt the honesty of what they had—not a holiday fling or a casual romance, but love. Pure, exquisite, gut-wrenching love. The kind that had been simmering from the moment they met. The kind worth fighting for.
It was a long time before their hands unclenched and their bodies separated, their skin damp. Andre turned to her, dark, bottomless eyes drinking her in. His voice was husky and deep when he spoke. ‘What does it feel like to fall in love?’
The question surprised her. ‘Have you never been in love before?’
‘No.’
She slid closer to him, their faces almost touching, as she whispered, ‘It’s the most terrifying and beautiful thing you will ever feel. You can’t eat or breathe or sleep without that person being near you.’
‘You mean it feels like this?’ He held her gaze and she thought he could see straight into her soul, to a love that was breathtaking and blessed, that had been in some ways a slow burn, others devastatingly fast, but always so natural, so right.
‘Yes, my love. It’s exactly like this.’
Avery returned to Rome at the end of January, as the freezing weather released its grip. The sun began to emerge triumphant, as though it had woken from a deep winter sleep. With her presence in the apartment again, Belle and Andre’s nights under the covers ended. No matter Andre’s good intentions, he still hadn’t had that conversation yet with his father, and their precious time together was played out once more on the steps of the apartment, where they huddled in the cool night and talked of a future that seemed further away to Belle than ever before.
‘I’m going to tell him tomorrow,’ Andre said one evening after work as they sat looking up at the sky.
‘I hate to say it, but I’ve heard that before,’ Belle replied.
Andre frowned. ‘I know I’ve been putting it off. It’s been hard to get him alone. The trattoria takes up so much of his time, and I don’t want to just drop it on him. I want to take the time to tell him properly.’
‘Maybe you’re overthinking it. Maybe it needs to be done like a Band-Aid. Rip it straight off.’
He raised his eyebrow at her. ‘There is no ripping the Band-Aid off when it comes to Benito.’
‘At least let me tell Avery so we don’t have to sit on these steps anymore.’
‘I don’t want to drag her into this and make her lie.’
Belle tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice. ‘I’m just not used to all this tip-toeing around people. If you want something, you should be allowed to go for it.’
He pulled back, eyes narrowing slightly. ‘You of all people should know what expectation feels like. You’ve lived half your adult life hiding your love for cooking because your father wanted you to study law instead. Is that not the same thing?’
Belle bit down on her lip, ashamed by her hypocrisy. Andre was right; she should know better than anyone what pressure and expectation from family felt like. It was exactly the same thing, just dressed in a different coat.
Andre shook his head, clearing the unease between them with a reassuring smile. ‘Anyway, by tomorrow this will all be sorted out. I’m going to stay back in the kitchen and tell him. Because if I don’t, there will never be a right time, so I might as well, as you said, rip the Band-Aid off.’
They were encouraging words, ones that she fell asleep to that night and woke to the next morning. Ones that put hope in her step as she strode across the piazza to Valentina’s. They were words that sounded promising when previously, they had only ever sounded impossible, like a finish line never quite in reach.
The more a life with Andre dangled like the proverbial carrot, the more she knew with certainty that she’d move heaven and earth for it. She’d opened her heart to the possibility of love again, even if that love seemed at once a blessing and a curse.
Lunch service at Valentina’s was busy that day, as the weather warmed, and tourists returned. Belle and Uncle Benito had trialled new dishes the previous week and, as they’d been a resounding success, they’d been added to the menu which was now with the printer for reprinting.
Belle hardly noticed anything but the inside of the kitchen. The service was frenetic and after the last customers left, she stepped out into the dining room for an espresso and a bite to eat with Andre. The break was fleeting though, and she returned to the kitchen thirty minutes later to begin prep for dinner.
Closer to eight pm, in the throes of the dinner shift, Andre burst through the kitchen doors, followed by Natalya, Josh and Chase. ‘The officials are back,’ he said soberly. ‘Quick, out into the alleyway.’
Belle left the gnocchi she’d been plating, washed her hands and headed immediately for the back door with the others.
‘Immigration?’ Uncle Benito harrumphed. ‘They were here just last week. Why are they back so soon? I already paid them.’
‘Come speak to them, Papà,’ Andre said. ‘They have new agents with them.’
Uncle Benito scowled then scrubbed his hands at the sink. As Belle stepped out into the alleyway, she turned and caught the image of him disappearing into the dining room.
Outside, the night had turned cool, nipping at her arms as she wrapped them around herself. Josh pulled up a crate to sit on and Chase lit a cigarette.
‘I hope this will not take long,’ Natalya complained. ‘I just seated four tables and was about to take their orders. The delay is going to set me back all night.’
‘The officials were here last week,’ Belle said. ‘Why are they back so soon?’
‘Who knows,’ Natalya said. ‘There is no agenda with these guys. Not when money is passing hands.’
‘Are we in trouble?’ Belle asked. She’d never felt comfortable with the idea of working illegally, but she’d allowed herself to be lulled into a sense of security because nobody had ever seemed particularly concerned about it. She glanced at the three faces around her. Josh was checking his phone, Chase was dragging back on his cigarette and blowing smoke rings, and Natalya was leaning against the stone wall of Valentina’s, rubbing lip balm over her lips. No one seemed worried, but no one had answered her question either.
