Page 11 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

Faith. And that was a mouthful, seeing what followed after that.

*

‘Good to see you, doll!’ Paul exclaimed when he hugged Renata. ‘Your boobs look amazing in this dress!’

She knew all about Paul, although Marco still wasn’t convinced about his sexual indifference toward his wife. He’d studied my buddy warily, as if ready to attack him if Paul dared lay a finger on her. Thank God Marco had gone back to work. Paul couldn’t resist complimenting a pretty woman and Renata was stunning. Small-boned and big-busted, she represented the epitome of Italian beauty.

‘And your ass looks sublime in those pants!’ she answered.

That was Renata for you. Looks of a princess, mouth of a stevedore. They got on like a Tuscan villa on fire.

Paul’s eyebrows rose in sheer delight as his eyes swerved to mine, then to her again. ‘Me too, honey! I’ve got news!’

‘Let me guess. You’ve found a new lover?’ I ventured.

Ever since he and Carl had split up centuries ago, Paul had become the ruthless love ’em an’ leave ’em type. But one day, I hoped, as the Tuscans say, his hard head would find an even harder rock to break it open and change his attitude completely. I wanted to see Paul in love with some fantastic guy who loved him to the moon and back. I wanted him to feel the same happiness every day that I did with Julian. No one should ever feel lonely.

Maybe I could shop around and shortlist for him, see if there’s anyone in Castellino. I mentally went through a list of the men I was sure were gay and a few were worth investigating. But who was I kidding? Relationships were a minefield to me and I’d hardly made it across myself. But it was my duty to see him through an eventual liaison.

God knew how he was all secure and confident when it was about other people, but when he was involved, he became extremely insecure and standoffish. It was as if he was afraid to get hurt again. But this time I’d hold his hand. (I suppressed a thought of the blind leading the blind.)

‘No, no new lover at the moment,’ he assured me. ‘But I’ve decided to start my own business. Something new.’

I studied him. A new business? Didn’t he know how risky that was? Look at me. He was much safer falling in love at this rate.

‘Are you sure, Paul? You’re a brilliant costume designer.’

‘I know. But I’m sick of the States. I want an Italian life like you. Hell, I already have the important friends and the Italian villa I never live in. Now I just want my freedom.’

Freedom to worry twice as much? I wondered. ‘What about your tenants?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ll give them six months’ notice. And live here in the meantime, of course, if that’s alright with Julian?’

‘Of course it is,’ I assured. ‘He loves you more than I do, if that’s even possible.’

Paul had been in my life since forever and was my first lifeline during the break-up of my marriage to Ira. When Julian had come onto the scene, after sniffing him out, Paul had not only given me the thumbs up, but he’d also practically pushed me into the poor guy’s arms.

‘So what kind of business are you thinking?’ Renata wanted to know.

He waved his hand gracefully over the piles of samples of tablecloths we’d been looking at for the wedding dinner. ‘Duh?’

We both looked at the fabrics, then back at him, unsure.

He fake huffed. ‘I’m going to be a wedding planner, of course! All I need is a name for the company.’

Now that was a good idea. An amazing one, in fact.

‘Then I’m thrilled to be your guinea pig.’

‘Hey,’ he said, eyes bright. ‘Maybe A Taste of Tuscany could be rented out as one of my venues.’

‘Sure. What the hell. Maybe that’s the answer to my financial woes.’

‘Still no bookings?’ Paul asked.

‘Nope. But I’m working on it.’

‘But what’s the problem?’

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