“Sure,” she said softly, only a hint of hesitation in her voice. “Let’s go meet Yaya.”
Gabe winked at her and all her doubts disappeared completely. This was fine! Meeting his family didn’t change anything. He was still Gabe, she was still Isabella, and in two more nights, she’d be gone – never to see him again.
13
“A FRIEND?” YAYA REPEATED, peering closer, her intelligent eyes scanning every single detail of Isabella, from top to bottom, until Isabella felt distinctly like a bug in a microscope. She held her breath, waiting for the executioner’s blade to fall, intensely wary of – and desperately wanting to please – the elegant older woman, for reasons she couldn’t quite comprehend.
“Actually, it’s more like Gabe’s my saviour,” Isabella couldn’t help interjecting. After all, the woman’s English was flawless and she wasn’t the kind of woman who liked to be spoken for.
Yaya’s expression didn’t change, reminding Isabella a thousand times over of Gabe. She could only imagine what it would be like to play poker with this pair!
“My car got stuck under an ice embankment just a short walk from Il Nido,” she elaborated. “I had to shelter there for a few days while the blizzard went on.”
“I see,” Yaya murmured, and then her mouth cracked into a smile that crinkled the papery skin at the corner of her eyes. It was as though the sun was being beamed into the room, through Yaya and right into Isabella’s heart.
The older woman leaned forward then, placing her fine-boned hand on Isabella’s. “Sit beside me for brunch, dear. I want to hear all about you.”
Isabella’s throat was inexplicably dry. Emotions deluged her. Pleasure, but something a lot like pain as well. It was a complicated state – complicated by the fact Isabella knew this was temporary, and also because she’d never known such a warm, instant welcome. It was hard for her to remember not to trust her feelings, harder to still remember all the reasons for not getting attached to these people.
“See? They love you,” Gabe murmured into Isabella’s ear as they walked towards the table, his arm around her waist casual and intimate all at once. She was seated near the middle of the table, Yaya on one side and Gabe the other. Elodie with glossy dark hair and chocolate brown eyes sat opposite, and despite the fact she’d immediately declared, as they’d taken their seats, “Ohmygod, I’m your biggest fan, I just love what you do!”, Isabella had warmed to her immediately, and not just because they had matching Australian accents. It was easy to make conversation with Elodie about their homeland. Sydney and the Gold Coast were alike in a lot of ways, and they’d been to many of the same holiday destinations.
“So what brings you to Italy?” Elodie asked, as staff cleared away the plates and replenished them for the pastry course.
“The food,” she replied immediately, gesturing to the delicious assortment spread down the centre of the table. She realised most of the family had stopped talking and were listening to her. A predictable warmth spread into her face and she knew her cheeks would have turned pink. “I’m researching a recipe book,” she elaborated.
“Oh, wonderful,” Elodie clapped her hands together.
“Ellie’s got us all hooked on you,” another one of the women – Maddie? – explained. Her accent was British, and she was just as welcoming as everyone else had been. She was married to Nico, Isabella remembered, surprising herself with how well she was doing on the name front.
“She gave us each a copy of your recipe book last Christmas,” Alessia – Italian – nodded. “I have cooked many things from it, grazie.”
Elodie brushed aside the praise. “Do you all like to cook?”
“We like to eat,” Lauren said with a laugh. Yaya matched it, and their eyes met, a look of accord passing between the younger woman and older.
“My boys all cook,” Yaya said, her voice softer than everyone else’s, so Isabella had to lean a little closer.
“Yes,” Isabella nodded. “Gabe surprised me with some meals at Il Nido.”
“You cooked for her?” Raf let out a whistle. “Must be serious.”
Isabella looked at Gabe on autopilot, but the expression on his face was like the cracking of a whip. He stared at his cousin and Raf quickly moved the conversation along, perhaps sensing he’d said something wrong.
But what?
That it was serious between the two of them? Why should that bother Gabe? They both knew the truth – there was nothing between them except a brief fling. Did he think she’d start getting ideas just because of a throwaway comment?
To dispel any doubts on that score, she put her hand beneath the table and squeezed his thigh, drawing his attention to her. She smiled, hoping he could see in her eyes that she was fine – that this was fine.
Only Gabe was different somehow. He looked – like he had on the first night they’d met. Her own smile slipped and then he found his, as though seeking to reassure her now.
The day passed in a whirlwind. She’d come to Villa Fortune at Gabe’s urging and yet she’d barely seen him! Sometime after lunch, Bronte – Luca’s fiancé – whisked Isabella into the kitchen.
“You look like you could use a break,” she said with an exaggerated grimace. “As the newest member to this clan, I get it. They’re great but kind of overwhelming.”
Isabella laughed. “Yep.” Then, she sobered, flicking the switch on the kettle out of habit. “In all sincerity, I really like it. It’s what I’ve always imagined family to be.”
“Oh? Why? What’s your family like?”
Bronte grabbed two teacups from the cupboard, then lifted a tin of bags. “English Breakfast okay?”
“Great, thanks.” Isabella watched as Bronte placed the bags into the mugs, then both stood by as the kettle boiled. Finally, Isabella answered Bronte’s question.
“I don’t really – have a family.” Her voice throbbed a little with the admission. It was Christmas eve and the house was full
