An Italian Dream

‘He was worth the wait.’

‘I love him, Edith. He’s everything I’ve been missing my whole life.’

‘And you are everything he needed. I like how you’ve followed your own path and have done something for yourself. Yes, being here has enabled you and Matteo to be together, but this is your project, your passion. You both have purpose and places you’ve created through love and hard work. And you have each other. That makes me very happy.’

* * *

The evening began to wind down. Edith headed to bed and Fern noticed that Ruby and her boyfriend had disappeared too. The lasagne had been demolished, along with at least a dozen bottles of wine. She couldn’t wait to greet her first paying guests; spring would be busy, and her new venture would give her little time to miss Matteo when he headed to Capri to open Il Ritiro d’Arte for three months before he returned to Tuscany for the summer.

For the first time in her life, Fern had independence, money and a job she was proud of and thrived on. And she had love too.

The last of the plates had been brought in and stacked in the dishwasher. She spied Amber outside, wiping down the table. Over the past couple of years, she’d been Fern’s rock; Ruby too. Fern couldn’t have been prouder of them both; steadfast Ruby had graduated and been thrown into the deep end as a nurse in a busy A&E, while Amber had knuckled down and aced her business and marketing degree. Fern was grateful for her expertise when it came to tweeting, stories and Instagram live.

With everything cleared away, Fern stood for a moment in the shadows of the kitchen and gazed to where Chloe, Jacob, Amber, Stella and Matteo were sitting by the flickering fire. Music was playing, another bottle of wine had been opened and Chloe was dishing out playing cards. Fern would join them, but not yet.

She left the kitchen and went outside. After a sunny spring day, the April evening was fresh. Light flooded the terrace and the glow of the moon was enough for Fern to navigate her way past the trees to the fence that separated the garden from the olive grove. By day, the view was a patchwork of green, of vineyards, fields and tree-covered hills, while at night it was hard to tell where the sky started. The darkness was absolute, only broken up by the moon, the stars and the distant glow of a medieval hilltop village. It reminded her of Matteo’s favourite spot at Il Ritiro Toscano, and it had become Fern’s favourite spot in the whole world. The peace was all-encompassing, but she’d not once felt lonely, even surrounded by the endless space.

‘I thought I might find you here.’

Warm hands slid around her waist. Matteo rested his head on her shoulder and she cupped her hands over his. Even in the quiet of the night, she hadn’t heard him pad up behind her. The stillness was what she loved and the way any stress or anxiety evaporated here.

‘You know me too well,’ she said.

‘You should get a telescope, set it up down here for stargazing.’

‘I think guests would like that.’

‘I was thinking more about you.’ He kissed her neck and held her closer.

Fern closed her eyes and leant back into him, relishing his warmth and the comforting firmness of being in his arms. In her mind, she could still see the sky decorated with stars, but images of the last few years flashed by too, much of it filled with hard work and laughter. The people she loved most in the world were all here. Especially the man with his arms wrapped tight around her.

‘It’s been a good evening.’ His deep voice filled the silence.

‘The best.’

‘Do you want time on your own or are you coming back inside?’

Fern breathed in the cool air. This area of the garden was filled with wildflowers, their colour breathing life into the landscape after the long winter, but it was too dark to see them. Now was the time for returning to the warmth, for refilling her glass with wine, for laughter and late-night chats, before heading to bed with the man she loved.

Fern took Matteo’s hand and they walked together back across the long grass to the farmhouse. Firelight flickered through the downstairs windows, reaching out invitingly into the dark, welcoming them back. It was everything she’d dreamed of and more. She squeezed Matteo’s hand tighter, relishing the feeling he evoked. She remembered being at his Tuscan retreat for the first time and the distance between them after their first kiss, when they were unable to act on their passion for each other. Now she was free, living on her own terms, following her heart.

Fern pushed open the door of La Casa dei Sogni and drew Matteo inside. This was her life, filled with happiness and love.