Page 59 of In Italy for Love

Alessandro Mattelig, you would break my heart if I gave you the chance.

24

Alcohol and insomnia did not mix. Alex knew this, but it still hit him hard when he spent a couple of hours exhausted and slowly sobering up, but unable to sleep. He dozed off in the early hours of the morning – he tried to convince himself he always would eventually – but woke again a little before six with the wordsten daysringing in his head. How many had it been now since her appointment? Five of those days were already gone.

He got up and dressed and set the fire in the kitchen stove before heading out to his disorganised shed to put the final touches to his latest project. Attila followed him out, watching disdainfully as he gave it one last check and grease before rolling it into the courtyard and leaning it against the persimmon tree.

‘I thought you’d like this, because it will get the dog out of the house,’ he mumbled to the cat who responded with a flick of his tail and a doubtful look. ‘But don’t you think it’s going to be strange to go back to just the two of us?’

He realised with a grim frown that it had never just been the two of them. With Attila, they’d always beenthree. Laura had just been absent.

When he went back inside, he heard muffled footsteps upstairs and his heart beat uncomfortably, anticipating showing her his solution to the one pressing problem he could solve – and seeing her face after last night. The platonic housemate plan was in tatters after everything they’d shared. He’d lost his bearings and he wasn’t sure what she would think of him this morning.

He poked his head out of the kitchen as she emerged at the bottom of the stairs and his loopy heartbeat became an ache. Her untidy ponytail and the thick socks she wore over her normal ones at home made an intimate picture. The baggy woollen cardigan she’d barely taken off since she bought it completed a picture he wanted to keep for longer than the next week or so. But when he lifted his gaze to her face, her eyes were set in dark circles as though she hadn’t slept well either.

‘Hey,’ she said, padding down the hallway.

They drank their coffee in silence, until he accepted the fact that he was going to have to say something.

‘I’m sorry – about last night.’

She gave a half-hearted laugh. ‘What about specifically? Getting drunk? Or not sleeping with me? It’s okay, Alex,’ she reassured him. ‘I’m leaving soon and you’re… whatever you are. Still grieving. I’m not angry at you. It’s just difficult to judge how close we should get, when we don’t want to hurt each other at the end. Living in the same house…’

He glided his fingertips over the back of her hand. ‘Exactly,’ he said, when she trailed off. He wasn’t sure what she’d meant by ‘still grieving’ as he’d always be grieving in some way – but those ways changed, sometimes without him even realising it. He liked touching her hand. That was a new stage of grieving that made his stomach flip when he acknowledged it.

She set her espresso cup on to the saucer and stood. ‘I should go and see if Berengario is… Oh, he’s not working on the farm this week. I should?—’

‘About that,’ he said, unexpectedly nervous, ‘let me show you something.’

Taking her hand to lead her to the door, he noticed what he’d done and panicked, but made the possibly poor decision to keep holding on.

‘Do I need to close my eyes or something?’ she asked as she slipped into her shoes and grabbed Arco’s harness and lead from the hook.

He smiled at that dry tone he knew well. ‘No, you’ll see it as soon as I open the door.’ He hesitated one final time. ‘If you don’t want to use it, that’s fine?—’

‘Just show me, Mr Mattelig.’

He did as she asked, watching her carefully. When she caught sight of the white-framed bicycle with its two wicker baskets and gleaming – if he said so himself – chain and gear cassette, she grinned and he finally released his breath.

‘That is just perfect, Alex.’

‘It’s an old bike I’ve been meaning to repair for a long time,’ he explained, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. ‘The rear basket should be big enough for Arco. I asked Marisa and she said dogs prefer baskets like this to be quite small so they feel secure, but he might take a little while to get used to it so…’

Her fingertips brushed over the wire cage he’d fashioned to attach to the basket with two old belts.

‘I cannot wait to try this out.’

‘Want to do a circle around the courtyard? I need to see if the saddle is the right height anyway.’

She hopped up onto the seat with a bit of a wobble, but after her first loop over the flagstones, she was pedalling confidently – but perhaps not quite comfortably.

‘Stop!’ He said, waving her over. ‘Let me raise the seat. I knew you were tall, but I underestimated how long your legs are.’ Her legs looked even longer when she was up on a bike. Herheight was something that she wore so well, as much as part of her as her strong chin. She had such a lovely fig?—

‘Are you checking me out?’

He snapped his gaze up to hers. ‘Sorry.’ He gave himself a shake and took the bike from her to loosen the stem and lift the seat – to accommodate her lovely, long legs. Clearing his throat, he said, ‘I’ll ride with you the first time, in case Arco panics.’ The look she gave him – soft and a little wobbly – made him want to give her bicycles every day.

When they were ready to go, he produced an extra helmet and held the bike steady for her to lift Arco into the basket. It took her a few attempts with the rather reluctant Lagotto, who barked and wriggled and eventually drew the neighbours to their windows in curiosity. Alex waved at each figure that appeared when the shutters were flung open.

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