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The lie sat in her throat like a sharp stone, but she nodded jerkily, aware she’d already gone too far to wind it back. Still, she hated being dishonest with her father.
“I mean, it’s new, with Luca. Probably not serious.” A divot formed between her brows as she frowned. “And I’m not looking for anything serious right now. After Ashton, I really just want to have fun for a while.”
“And you’re having fun?”
She thought about that, surprised that it was easy to nod an affirmative.
“Good, darling. That’s all I want.”
She looked up at her dad’s face, surprised.
“What?”
“It’s just – I thought –,”
“Yes?”
“I suppose I thought you might be disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” His forehead crinkled as he mulled over that. “Whatever for?”
“I don’t know. I guess because I’m twenty five and most people my age are getting engaged or married or having babies and I’m so far away from that.”
He guffawed, then apologised when nearby dancers turned to look at them.
“Have you written us into some kind of Victorian novel, little one?”
The childhood nickname warmed her heart.
“Is there some pressing social imperative to get hitched I’m not aware of?”
She rolled her eyes, feeling completely stupid. “I just meant – because I always thought I would get married, and have a family.”
“You’re still a baby,” he chided. “And a marriage is only worth doing if it’s the right chap. Ashton wasn’t right for you, and you weren’t right for him. Now, Luca on the other hand…”
“Dad,” panic flooded her veins. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Okay, okay, I’m just saying, any man who will listen to your father discuss caramelisation techniques for forty minutes is probably a keeper.”
She laughed. “Oh, dear.”
“Yes, well, he seemed interested at the time.”
She smiled affectionately. “I’m sure he was.”
It wasn’t the first lie she’d told that evening.
“Where are you?”
Luca glanced at the frame his phone was picking up – fairy lights strung behind him, a big old oak tree glowing gold from the way it was lit with a floodlight. “At a wedding.”
On the other side of the device, from the salon of Villa Fortune, Yaya leaned forward, peering into the iPad. “Whose wedding?”
He bit back a smile. Yaya never liked to miss a trick – she had to know everything. “Just an acquaintance; nobody you will be excited to hear about.”
She sighed. “I like weddings though.”
“How’s everything going?” Nico came into shot, chewing a piece of pizza.
