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Massi admires the watch, and then grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles.
* * *
We arrive at the market quickly at this ungodly hour when the city still sleeps. Kind of, because we spot drunken parties, early morning runners and delivery trucks everywhere. Yet the traffic is at its lightest, so it’s not even five in the morning when Massi drags me through a large warehouse toward a fishmonger who’s been his supplier for years.
By the sight of it, the man is packing up for the day. Already? Massi squeezes my hand before he drops it and walks over to the stall. I watch the interaction, not really hearing what’s said, but the man shakes his head and Massi runs his fingers through his hair, pacing around like a caged animal.
Something is wrong. I walk to join them.
“But you knew I’d come to select the best tuna today. We talked about it several times this week.” Massi’s words are sharp.
“Sorry, man, but I got a large order at four this morning that I couldn’t refuse.” The fishmonger wipes his hands on his apron and moves a crate.
“After all these years you fuck me over.” Several vendors stop what they were doing and turn our way.
“I still have tilapia left.” The man shrugs. “I’m really sorry.”
“I don’t want fucking tilapia.” Massi’s voice carries as he lunges forward.
I step in front of him and place my palm on his chest. He blinks a few times and looks at me, the god of vengeance, as if he’s just remembered I was there. His heart pounds against my palm. From the corner of my eye I see him clenching his fist.
“Massi,” I breathe. He’s looking at me, but he doesn’t seem to see me. “Breathe, baby. Fuck him. Let’s not waste the time. You can come up with a new menu.”
His chests rises and falls rapidly, but his gaze refocuses on me. “I’d have to redo the entire menu and get new wine. It’s too late for that.”
The onlookers slowly return to their previous tasks. I press my palm firmer against his heaving muscles and rub his arm with my other hand.
“If anyone can change and adapt the menu, it’s you. Let’s look around and get steaks…” I scrunch my face, hoping my ideas won’t set him off again. “Lamb?” I try.
He puffs out the air from his cheeks and drops his head. “Okay, let’s look around.”
And so we do. Massi finds veal that seems to satisfy his expectations and calls Lena who is at the vegetable market. They consult and change the menu on the fly. The next call goes to Phillip, who promises to source the wine.
By six thirty in the morning we are at Casa Cassi. The kitchen is silent and the deliveries won’t be here for another hour, but Massi wanted to come straight here.
He unrolls his knife pouch on the shiny surface of the prep table. He runs his fingers over the sharp blades and I feel like I’m interrupting some kind of ritual I shouldn’t witness.
I tiptoe to the front to turn the espresso machine on, letting Massi have his moment.
“Blue,” he rasps.
“Yes, baby, I was just going to make coffee. Do you want some?” I wish I could take away the tension gripping his shoulders.
He walks to me and gathers me in an embrace, kissing the crown of my head. “Thank you. I lost it there and you helped me. Thank you.” With his finger, he nudges my chin up and kisses me. “Let me make you breakfast.”
“Are you sure? You should focus on work today, baby. Don’t worry about me.”
“I still have time before Lena and the deliveries arrive. Let me feed you. Watching you eat is the best motivation for me.” He plants a kiss on my forehead. I didn’t know it was possible, but I’ve just fallen deeper.
He pivots and grabs a pan before he heads to the cold room. “You’re still in charge of coffees, Blue,” he calls over his shoulder and I laugh, shaking my head.
We eat poached eggs with salmon and drink our coffees, discussing the new menu. “I’ll type it up and have Mila do a rush print of everything. By the end of the lunch hour we’ll be all ready, as if nothing happened.”
“Thank you.” He squeezes my hand. “What would I do without you?”
* * *
Massi
