Page 20 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

I groaned inwardly. I really didn’t want to talk about her right now, but he wasn’t letting go.

‘Most important, what do you think?’ I asked back, trying to hide my uneasiness and trying to avoid obvious truths like, She bosses you around a lot.

Julian wrapped an arm around my neck and gave me a peck on the lips. ‘She’s great, isn’t she?’ he prompted.

Oh, why were men so oblivious to reality?

‘Almost reminds me of you in Boston, honey. Remember when your chef, Juan, didn’t show because he was home with that prostitute? Remember how you kicked ass?’

How could I forget? Julian had come to take me out to lunch. Lunch that our guests wouldn’t be having as our chef had been a no-show. And so Julian had driven me to Juan’s house, only to find he was with a prostitute spread unconscious on the floor.

‘Me? You’re the one who saved the girl’s life.’

‘Ah, but you got your staff organized in a jiffy. I’d never seen such fast workers my whole life. You were amazing, Erica.’

Were being the operative word. Now, I couldn’t even find guests if I paid them to stay. So much for owning my own business. Maybe I was over, slowly reverting to the simple role of housewife, something I was personally never cut out to be. And we weren’t even married yet.

I thought it would be enough, to have my own business and be free to be with my loved ones. Be my own boss, live the simple life. But things weren’t as peachy as I’d hoped. Julian was slowly becoming a ghost and as if that wasn’t enough, whenever a smart businesswoman like Sienna appeared on my horizon, it was like seeing my ghost – the Ghost of Business Past. The woman he’d met only two years ago, who had already disappeared under layers of Tuscan pancetta and potatoes.

I missed that dynamic woman, even if I’d been suffering like a dog because of the divorce. And I missed… OK, here’s the naked truth: I missed the effort Julian used to make to come and see me when we were still dating, the way he used to drop everything for me. It made me feel special. He’d show up in any given one of my darkest moments with a box of pastries or flowers to take me out. It had always warmed my heart. And thrilled me.

But now, because I was always around, the steady rock to come back to, it wasn’t the same anymore. It was safe to say that the thrill was on the wane.

Damn this routine. A routine, however, that only I was living, because he was a free spirit, coming and going as he pleased. And then it hit me. Julian was now like I used to be, traveling around the globe for business. I finally understood how Ira must have felt, resenting my success and the fact that I managed to get away from home regularly.

And the scary part was that ultimately (besides the fact that Ira was a lying, cheating scumbag, of course), my absences due to work were what had driven us apart. We’d gone from being doting parents to ships passing in the night, and every trip I made pushed us further and further apart. Which was why now I was on red alert.

Here in Tuscany, Julian and I were supposed to live together in perfect harmony and have it all. Together, as a couple, although lately we weren’t acting like one much. And now that Sienna was in our home, it was obvious how basic my role was in his life. Anyone else could have done the chores I did daily. All that was necessary was a cook and a house cleaner. Because that was all I was doing these days.

It was almost as if I wasn’t even there, and all his attention was on Sienna and the career boost he was about to receive. The businesswoman I’d hoped to continue being after moving to Italy hadn’t yet materialized. Of course I didn’t want the office hours or the meetings or the suits, but was it asking too much to have a score of paying guests who would add to our income?

It was a good thing I had a plan. And it was partly hatched by watching the way Sienna worked. She mainly used her contacts. The people she knew. So I’d decided to email all my contacts from the Farthington Hotel which used to be my kingdom. I would shoot a blanket email to each and every one of the guests I’d become chummy with and who I knew for a fact had planned at some point or other to travel to Europe. I would tell them about my new life and include a link to our website and see what happened. If Sienna could do it, so could I!

‘Good news, my man,’ Sienna greeted us (well, him) early one morning as I was packing the kids’paninifor a picnic.

Julian was leaning back against the counter as always, barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt, sipping his espresso and immersed in the paper that our foreman, Aldo, brought him every day as I silently went about my business. The fact that Sienna hardly acknowledged my presence was nothing, despite the fact that I fed her at least six times a day, but again, I was only the help around here. She was the one making him a success. I was only taking care of his basic animalistic needs (such as meals, laundry – and, in case you were wondering, not much else, lately), while she, on the other hand, had his undivided attention. Because I may have only fed him, while she was going to turn him into a star once again.

‘Yeah? What’s that?’ he asked, an anticipatory grin illuminating his face.

When was the last time he smiled at me like that? I couldn’t help but think, trying hard not to squish Warren’s muffin as I closed the ziplock and shoved it into his bag on the table.

‘Can I have blueberry, please, Mommy?’ Maddy asked as she came in, pulling on her sandals, her back folded forward under the weight of an enormous rucksack.

‘Sweetie, this is too heavy for you,’ I said, lifting it off her. ‘I’ll get you a wheelie bag today. You don’t want to ruin your posture.’

‘Chill,Marcy,’ Warren said as he came in and poured himself some cereal.

I suppressed a gasp. He was right. I had just sounded like Marcy. Julian eyed me and screwed his mouth to keep it shut in front of Sienna. Family squabbles weren’t classy, apparently.

But Sienna paused to observe them with an amused grin, too classy to show they’d interrupted her precious work discourse.

‘Morning, you guys,’ Julian greeted, pulling Maddy into his arms and ruffling Warren’s hair.

So, apparently I was the only one not getting any attention except for a ‘Thanks, love,’ when I’d poured him his coffee half an hour earlier.

‘I’ve scheduled a meeting with some TV people. BBC, to be precise. They want to meet you,’ she said.

‘For what, exactly?’ I asked. The news? An interview? His own show?

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