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Chapter Forty
End of January already. First month of the new year, and so far, it had been a busy one.
My Christmas and New Year celebrations were fine. Very low-key, which was exactly what I needed. It was great to just sit back and relax with the family, forget about work and eat loads (and boy did I eat—I must have put on about four pounds stuffing my face this past fortnight).
I’d tried to message Charlie to arrange to talk and let him know for sure that there was no future for us, but he didn’t reply.
Sadly, I hadn’t seen much of Lorenzo. Not because we hadn’t wanted to or because anything bad had happened. Far from it.
We’d spent the whole of his day off just before Christmas together and it was magical. I remembered it like it was yesterday.
I’d woken up to the smell of French toast, my absolute favourite, and when I’d opened my eyes, Lorenzo was bringing a plate over to the bed. As always it was presented as if he was serving a customer at the restaurant. I’d told him so many times that it was only for me and it didn’t matter, but he always insisted on making it look pretty. He’d sprinkled icing sugar all over, then garnished it with strawberries and a drizzle of maple syrup—yum.
He’d put the plate down on the side table and then leant forward to kiss me.
‘I haven’t brushed my teeth yet, Lorenzo,’ I’d said, cringing.
‘I don’t care,’ he’d said, pushing his lips firmly against mine. He’d then reached for his phone.
‘Lorenzo!’ I’d said, shielding my face behind the pillow, before he’d snatched it away playfully.
‘Why do you always want to take photos of me when I wake up?’ I’d asked, pulling the covers over my head. ‘My hair’s fucked, I haven’t got any make-up on…I look a mess!’
‘You are beautiful,’ he’d said, throwing the duvet back. ‘You do not need make-up. You are a natural beauty. I just love to take your picture when you are natural. It is sexy.’
‘Sexy?’ I’d protested. ‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ I know you’re supposed to accept compliments graciously, but I wasn’t feeling at all photogenic.
‘Yes!’ he’d insisted, planting kisses across my face. ‘A woman will not let just anyone see her without make-up, so there is something intimate about it. Like this, I see the real Sophia,’ he’d added, stroking my bare cheek. And then he’d said it. The sentence I’d never forget: ‘The Sophia that I love.Ti amo, Sophia. I love you very much.’
As those words tumbled from his lips, I remember my stomach flipped and then did a million somersaults. He’d said helovedme. And I felt it. In his actions, the way he looked at me and in his touch. My whole body was floating. He loved me and the feeling was most definitely mutual.
At that moment, I took his face into my hands and kissed him gently.
‘I love you too, Lorenzo,’ I’d said, pulling back slowly to admire him. ‘With all of my heart. I’ve never felt this way before.’
I remember laying my head on his chest and inhaling his woody scent. He always smeltsodamn good. Then he wrapped his arms around me and I swear I didn’t move for hours. Everything just felt so perfect, so right…
Since then, he’d been ridiculously busy at the restaurant with all the Christmas parties and had been working fourteen, sometimes fifteen hours a day, six days a week, so it was difficult to meet, even after work.
We were desperate to see each other, though, so I visited the restaurant on Christmas Eve and we managed to steal ten minutes together during his break. But he was so tired, he could barely string a sentence together. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin wasn’t its normal glowing, golden colour, and he was slower on his feet. But to me, he still looked gorgeous.
Lorenzo was really pushing hard. He wanted to learn as much as possible, and although I personally thought he should take some time off to sleep, he didn’t want to let the head chef and the team down (apparently two of his colleagues had wrapped up their knives and left during service on Christmas Day, as they couldn’t hack the pressure anymore). Long hours, he explained, were part and parcel of the job he loved, so he was adamant that he must continue.
I missed Lorenzo so much, but with just one day off a week, he needed that time to rest. Otherwise he’d make himself ill. Even though he said he’d be fine and asked me to come round, I knew if I did, he’d want to cook for me, we’d spend hours talking and would end up having sex, because we wouldn’t be able to resist. So as much as I wanted to see Lorenzo, I wanted him to stay healthy even more.
That’s why we reluctantly agreed that even though it would be hard, we’d wait until after the New Year to see each other again. Then all of the festivities would be out of the way, things would be calmer for him at work and we could spend quality time together.
We messaged everyday, spoke on the phone or video-called a few times a week, and exchanged photos, which made it a little more bearable. I still thought about him literally every second, though, especially now that what was supposed to be a two-week break had become almost five…
As he’d worked all over Christmas, after New Year, he had taken a fortnight break to go back to Italy to spend time with his family. Then, when he returned, I was busy getting ready to go to France as the anniversary of Albert’s passing was fast approaching.
Marie had told me there was no need for me to come over, but I wanted to be there to support her, Henri and Geraldine, and I’d only got back last night.
I was going to head straight to Lorenzo’s, but he was finishing late, and as much as I couldn’t wait to see him, after almost six hours of travelling, I was shattered. I was just feeling so tired all the time these days. Even doing the smallest thing felt like moving a mountain. The journey to and from France had clearly had more of an effect on me than I’d thought.
It took all the strength I had to get out of bed, throw on a loose-fitting dress swipe on some concealer, tinted moisturiser, mascara and lip gloss, then jump in the taxi to meet Fran. I felt rough. Nauseous, sore and weird. Just awful.
We met at the Sea Containers restaurant at the Mondrian Hotel on the South Bank, which was still a favourite spot of mine (despite the disappointing date with Charlie upstairs at their Rumpus Room rooftop bar last summer).
