On a high from making him laugh I grabbed the phone and flipped to a photo of a cake I’d made for a hen party. There was nothing subtle about this one and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
‘That is seriously gross!’ he exclaimed through his laughter. ‘You’ve even put all the veins and stuff on there. Rank. Who was your model?’ I blushed, instantly regretting showing him, although watching him laugh nearly made it worth it.
‘No one you know,’ I muttered, grabbing back my phone and shoving it into the back pocket of my jeans.
‘Well, if it was a live model he must have a lot of stamina to maintain that for long enough for you to sculpt it,’ he said teasingly.
Gah! He was totally getting the wrong end of the stick.
‘Gay porn,’ I reluctantly admitted.
‘Sorry?’ he asked as he started chuckling again.
‘I freeze-framed gay porn.’ At this, he started laughing flat out, and after a few moments I joined him.
‘That is not a statement I ever thought would pass your lips. Why … gay porn? What’s wrong with … the … um … equipment in the regular kind?’ he choked out through his laughter.
‘Well, I found out in my … research that they tend to focus in on the … equipment in gay porn a bit more, as I guess they’re the main event, so …’ I trailed off, still giggling. Gabriella approached our table as we were still getting a hold of ourselves, and she beamed at us.
‘My Frankie,’ she said to Tom. ‘She is funny, no? Beautiful, sweet, funny, kind. You agree?’
‘Definitely yes to all those,’ Tom said, smiling at me, and I felt heat hit my cheeks again.
Gabriella whipped away the menus even though neither of us had even so much as glanced at them, declaring, ‘I will bring you best Italian meal you ever have,’ then bustled off to the kitchen. Tom grinned at me, totally unconcerned that he wasn’t choosing his own food; but then again I was getting the impression that not much fazed Tom.
The food was of course amazing, and I actually had a great time. I had been dreading the night, thinking I would come off as a mute, boring freak (although, since the idea was to be putting Tom off and protecting myself, I had thought that this wouldn’t be altogether a bad thing). But Tom expertly steered the conversation into safe waters and didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. He was funny. He seemed to find me funny. He teased me in a sweet, non-threatening way. And stupid me, I loved every freaking minute.
I was in trouble.
Throughout the evening he had been casually affectionate. It struck me that he was a very touchy-feely guy. He held my hand, he slung his arm over my shoulder when we were walking anywhere, guided me through the restaurant with his hand to the small of my back. All of this was turning my insides to mush and giving me the weirdest sense of contentment. I would challenge any woman who endured three hours of Tom’s casual affection not to feel the same.
He was certainly noticed by the majority of the women in the restaurant, whose eyes had all been drawn to him as soon as we walked in. If he noticed the attention he certainly never let on, and, other than when he was talking to Gio and Gabriella, he was always entirely focused on me.
It was also obvious that he liked Gio and Gabriella, and was not at all put out when they muscled their way onto our table towards the end of our meal and made us all drink Cinzano together. Both Gabriella and Gio were known to partake of their wares of an evening (a trait they shared with my parents, but fortunately, unlike Mamma and Papa, Gio and Gabriella had more self-control), and both had definitely got a buzz on by the time they reached us.
This resulted in even thicker Italian accents, more outrageous stories accompanied by violent waving of arms, lots of back claps for Tom from Gio, and face cupping/bicep squeezing from Gabriella (who was still firmly under his spell).
Tom took this all in good humour, laughing along with them, and by the end of the evening they were both so enamoured of him you’d have thought he had saved their first born from a burning building.
As we were leaving, having gone through the requisite twenty cheek kisses, Gabriella caught my arm.
‘Tuo padre?’ she asked, her brows drawn together in a frown. I shook my head in a negative gesture and she closed her eyes. When she opened them they were warm with concern and had misted over. She cupped my face with her hand and murmured, ‘Va bene, ciao, cara.’ Her eyes flicked to Tom and she smiled. ‘Look after my girl.’
‘Of course,’ he replied. He was watching our exchange a little too intently, and I decided we really needed to get out of there.
‘Ciao,’ I called over my shoulder as I pushed Tom out of the door.
He didn’t question me on the way home. I think he could sense that it made me uncomfortable, and I don’t think he wanted to push things too early. I felt his hand burn into the small of my back on the way to the van, and that beautiful pain slid through me again.
Yes, I was in trouble.
Chapter 22
Of all animals the boy is the most unmanageable– Plato
‘Well, I think you do!’ the little boy shouted at me from the doorway of my flat, accompanying his statement with a surprisingly forceful (considering his size) stamp of his foot. He looked to be about four years old, had bright blue eyes and a gorgeous head of blond hair. I looked up and down the corridor, and again saw no sign of any adults.
I squatted down to his level and smiled. ‘Honey, it’s really sweet that you think I look like Princess Jasmine. I’m honoured. But at the moment I just want to know where your mummy and daddy are.’
