She thought for a moment, her hand paused on the bread loaf. “There’s a restaurant in Perugia that I adore. My parents took me there for my eighteenth birthday and now I go every year. They make the most amazing pasta with a butter truffle sauce. Every time I go I swear I’m going to have something different, but then... I always go back to it.”
“Mmm...sounds delicious.”
“What’s yours?”
“When I was in uni, there was a c
urry takeaway just around the corner from our flat. I’d eat anything from there any day of the week.” He frowned. “I don’t even know if it’s still there.”
“You should go back and find out.” She grinned at him and put down the knife. “And you surprise me. I expected something elaborate and fancy.”
“Not me. If I can’t have that, I’ll take a traditional English breakfast all the way. I get that from my father.”
“You miss him.” She’d been reaching for the olive oil, but she hesitated and met his gaze evenly. “I really am sorry.”
“None of us expected it. He was only in his early sixties, you know? He should have had more time.”
She swallowed thickly. At twenty-eight, she was the oldest. Giulia was only twenty-one. Her father was only fifty-four. What if he didn’t make it? She bit down on her lip and remained silent.
“You said your father’s prognosis is good. You need to hold on to that.”
It surprised her that he’d guessed the path of her thoughts. “I know, but there’s always that other number that sneaks up and reminds you that not everyone is lucky. The business aside, I don’t know what we’d do without him.”
William came around the table where she was working and took her hands. “When is his surgery?”
“Next week. Stephen and I were going to stop for a few days on our way home from Malta, but now...” She tried not to think about him touching her, but her fingers tingled from the contact. Oh, this would not do at all...
A strong finger tilted up her chin. “Now you’re not in Malta. But I’ll do what I can to get you home so you can be there, for him and for your family. Will you let me arrange it?”
That he even offered filled her heart with joy and relief. “Oh, William, that means so much to me. If I can be home when he has his operation...” She took his hand in hers. “When can I tell Mama?”
His eyes clouded a bit. “Not yet. I don’t want to set something in stone until the rest of the week plays out. Can you trust me? And not because you don’t have a choice, but because you know I’ll do my best?”
She wanted to trust him, and that scared her to bits. Look at what had happened the last time she trusted someone. Maybe the problem wasn’t with trusting others, maybe it was trusting herself. Because twice now she’d landed in “relationships” that were nothing but lies.
“You haven’t given me a reason not to. Yet.”
“I’ll endeavor to keep your good opinion of me,” he said formally, and it made her smile again.
“Come on, then. I think this is ready, and you can eat a very Umbrian dish tonight instead of Madame Gosselin’s heavy sauces.”
“Music to my ears,” he said, and went to find bowls and plates.
* * *
Will looked across the table at Gabi and knew he was asking for trouble.
The candlelight lit her face, and when she laughed it was like music. The meal she’d prepared had been fairly simple but amazingly delicious. For dessert, he’d headed to the basement for an appropriate wine. Not a dessert wine, but a red that would complement the cherries and also be drinkable throughout the evening.
Right now Gabi was pushing her remaining cherries around her bowl with a spoon. “Full?” he asked, dipping his own spoon for one more scrumptious bite.
“Very. Madame Gosselin really knows how to bake bread.”
“Once, when we were kids, Charlotte and I snuck into the kitchen at night and toasted a whole loaf. We spread it with Nutella and nearly made ourselves sick. The next morning there were chocolate fingerprints on everything.”
She laughed, a light, lovely sound. How had Stephen thought he could marry her and not fall in love with her? What was wrong with him?
“Your mother had her hands full with twins.”