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Now I needed a photo of the chef.Gotta play it cool, so I’d suggest a photo of him with Erica.
‘Now we need a photo of ourwonderfulhosts. Erica, would you mind posing with Lorenzo for a picture?’ I asked.
Is the Pope a Catholic? Of course she bloody wouldn’t.
She blushed and then also tried to act casual. She wasn’t fooling me, though. ‘Oh, okay, yes,’ she said, feigning nonchalance.
She snuggled up to Lorenzo, who pulled various faces and struck different poses in front of the camera as I snapped away.Ah, I see. This is a man who clearly knows how good-looking he is, has practised in front of the mirror for hours and likes having his photo taken. Note to self.
Right. I needed a picture with him too. On my own would be too suspect, though. One with the girls would be a good idea.
‘Fran and Grace,’ I said, calling out to them. ‘Let’s have a picture with Lorenzo too.’
Didn’t need to ask them twice.
I handed the phone to Dan to do the photo-taking honours, then positioned myself on Lorenzo’s right-hand side at the end, and Fran made a beeline for his left whilst Grace stood next to Fran. We also seized the opportunity to wrap our arms around his waist as Dan snapped away.
Pictures mission accomplished.
‘Do you want to have a look at my handiwork?’ said Dan, referring to the photos he’d taken. As he repositioned his hand around the phone, he clicked on the lock screen button on the side by mistake. When he tried to touch it again, my screensaver wallpaper flashed up.
‘Wowzers! Is that you?’ he said, eyes widening. ‘That’s a bit of a racy dress! You lookhot! Look at those abs!’
Everyone looked over curiously, desperate to know what Dan was gawping at.
Ah, yes. My screensaver was a photo of me in the daring black mesh dress, posing with my dad at my birthday dinner.
‘Let’s have a look!’ said Fran.
Dan held the phone up so everyone could see.
‘Che bella donna!’ said a startled Erica. God bless her.
He then held it up in Lorenzo’s direction.
‘Look at that, mate,’ said Dan. ‘I would!’ he added cheekily as if I wasn’t even in the room.
‘Damn right!’ added Fran.
‘Nathan!’ exclaimed Grace. ‘You cheeky little thing!’
I glanced slyly over at Lorenzo to gauge his reaction and was pleased to see his eyes were wide once again and he was smiling and nodding vigorously in approval. Nice one, Dan.
‘That was at my birthday celebration a few days ago,’ I explained.
‘Well, you look gorgeous, my darling. Is that your dad with you?’ asked Fran.
‘It is indeed,’ I confirmed.
‘Oh, he looks lovely too,’ Fran added. ‘There’s no doubt about it: you are hot stuff. This lady won’t be single for long, that’s for sure. The men are going to be hunting you down. Look at that body. Wow! I’ll have to set you up with some of my friends when we’re back in England.’
I felt myself blushing.
Lorenzo looked over at me and smiled. He was thawing, I could feel it…
We made more delicious dishes, all whilst sipping on prosecco. A Tuscan beans and pulses soup (orzuppa—yep, the Italian vocab was building nicely…) and guinea fowl with mushrooms. Then for me, the pièce de résistance (yes, I know that’s French rather than Italian) was that we were making one of my absolute favourite things: cake. I’m convinced it’s all my mum ate when she was pregnant with me, causing me to develop some kind of sponge addiction.
Not only had we made a crushed Florentine cake, which I could already tell was going to taste delicious, but also tonight, a major miracle had happened as there waszerocriticism from Lorenzo during the lesson. In fact, I think I even got amolto bene.
