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“It’s okay,” I giggled. “I was having a hard time sleeping.”
He nodded. “The trouble with your friend?” he asked, motioning toward the table where Jessie and I had been sitting when the argument erupted.
I sighed heavily and nodded. “Yes,” I said. “I am very sorry for causing such a disturbance. I am even more sorry that you must think so terribly of me now.”
“Nah!” he said, raising a hand to quiet me. “I am not thinking terribly of you at all! I must get started preparing breakfast, but I will be alone in the kitchen for a while. Would you like to join?”
“I would!” I said, just before remembering my clothes. “Can I go get a little more presentable first?”
“Yes, of course!” he said. “I will be in the kitchen waiting for you!”
I leapt from the chair and ran a beeline for my cabin door. I tossed the cardigan to the bed, pulling the nightgown over my head in a frenzy. I put on my favorite bra and underwear, jeans, and a sweatshirt.
I looked at myself in the mirror and huffed. There was no point in applying make-up. He’d already seen me without. I did, however, throw my hair into a quick messy bun.
I slipped into my favorite canvas slip-ons and made my way back up the stairs and to the kitchen, where Matteo was already rolling out biscuit dough.
“Tell me about this friend,” he said, shooting me an easy smile as I scooted into a bar stool he’d pulled into the prep area for me.
“You don’t want to hear it,” I said, laughing. “To be honest, I don’t even know if I can call her a friend at this point.”
“Aha!” he exclaimed, his face animated as if he’d just found an important piece to a million piece jigsaw puzzle. “Then tell me about this non-friend.”
He winked at me, and I knew he truly wanted to listen. All my anxiety about telling someone about the Jessie drama dissolved, and I caught myself opening up.
I told him about our childhood together, how all our other friends had outgrown her. About my guilt for outgrowing her, too. I told him about the trips nobody liked going on anymore.
And I told him about the game.
“So I am your... target?” he asked, an amused smirk crawling across his face.
“Yes,” I said, bashfully. “But I’m not actually playing. I told Jessie I didn’t even like the game, but she says I can’t quit. So I’m just pretending to play. I am ready to pay for everyone’s trip at the end. I’m really not trying to do anything with you.”
“It is fine,” he said. “I understand—and your secret is safe with me. You tell them any number you want to tell them. I will not say otherwise.”
I giggled. “Very kind of you,” I teased.
“Prego!” he said. “It will not be the first foolish thing I’ve played along with in my life. I used to run a restaurant with two friends—an Irishman and a Puerto Rican. All those tempers in one kitchen? We had some earth-bending fights of our own, you best believe!”
“That’s amazing,” I said. “Are you still friends with them now?”
“The Puerto Rican, yes,” Matteo nodded. “The Irishman? No. Some friends you can find middle ground with—some people you can find middle ground with—some you cannot.”
I nodded.
“Your friend Jessie does not seem like someone who is anxious to find much middle ground,” he advised me. “You will need to find a way to communicate to her how important it is that you are allowed to be your own person, or she will lose you. You cannot make her happy if it means giving up who you are.”
“Oh,” I said. “You’ve mistaken. I wouldn’t do that. I haven’t given myself up for anyone.”
He raised an eyebrow and looked at me quizzically.
“Well, then, Heather,” he said. “Who are you?”
“I am the daughter of a fashion icon,” I said. “I am the heiress to her line. I am a good friend. I like to exercise. I like being around my family and friends as long as everyone’s getting along.”
“Those are things about you,” he said. “They are not who you are.”
He smiled, gesturing toward himself. “I am Matteo. I learned to cook from my grandfather in Italy. I moved to America when I was sixteen and began work in upscale restaurants washing dishes and mopping floors until they let me sharpen the knives. Then they let me use the knives. Then soon I was cooking on the line, and then soon I was running the kitchen. I am passionate about my food. I am passionate about traveling and adventure, too, so that’s why I took this job! I do not like to dance, but I do love to hear music. If I could be any animal, I’d be a bird because they communicate only in song!”
