Page 14 of One Hot Summer

“Well, anyway, you’re doing great this evening. I was single for years and never managed to stay as calm and collected as you are when I was around someone I fancied.”

Alessandro appeared back at our table.

“More espresso, ladies? I can order some if you like?” he asked.

“Oh, no thanks. I think I’ll go back to the hotel, actually.” I looked at Sarah. “I can phone Zack and say goodnight. Is that okay?”

“Yes, sure, that’s fine.”

“I will make sure Sarah get back safely, do not worry,” Alessandro said.

Seeing as the hotel was approximately twenty metres away, I was sure she would be fine.

“Okay, thank you so much again for the drinks.” Alessandro leaned in and did the European ‘kiss on each cheek’ thing. “I’ll see you back at the hotel,” I said to Sarah, giving her a sly wink before leaving.

I walked into the hotel entrance and was met by Maria. She must have been on the wine. Her cheeks were rosy and she seemed very happy to see me, pulling me in for my second ‘kiss on each cheek’ of the day. She held onto my hands as she was speaking to me, but I had no idea what she was saying. All I could make out was, ‘Bella ragazza inglese!’ which I assumed meant ‘I made you more biscotti’.

“I’m going to bed, Maria. Very sleepy.”

“Ah, si, si, go sleep.” She smiled at me. “I bring more biscotti tomorrow.”

“Oh, we would love more of the chocolate biscotti please. They’re our favourite.”

“Chocolate?” The grip on my hands tightened.

“Yes, the ones you left for us this afternoon. There aren’t many left, I’m afraid. We couldn’t help ourselves.”

Her pink cheeks turned into furious-red cheeks. She still had hold of my hands and the grip was almost unbearable. I feared they would be crushed in her Hulk-like grip. Just at that moment, a sheepish Leonardo appeared, holding a glass of red wine.

“Biscotti al cioccolato?” she said to him, releasing her hold of my poor hands. “Idiota!”

And then, World War Three was declared right in the lobby. Italy against Italy. Traditional biscotti against rebellious chocolate biscotti. Maria was winning the battle, for sure. I felt very awkward, as Maria’s argument was very animated, with a hand gesture in my direction for every angry word. Italians seemed to have their own sign language for getting a point across. Maria didn’t need to bother, though. Her anger was palpable.

Maria finally stormed out of the room and into the kitchen, where more banging and cluttering followed. Leonardo looked at me unphased, and smiled.

“I am sorry, Maria no like chocolate biscotti. I make them for English lady guests. They are popular. But Maria no like it. She, ah, she want to make traditional.”

“I’m so sorry if I’ve got you into trouble!” I was mortified and scared for him.

“It no bother.” He smiled. “I bring you more in the morning.” He winked, and turned to go through a different door, far away from Maria. I pulled my phone out of my bag and typed a message to Sarah.

Don’t rush back. Maria is on the rampage and I got Leonardo in trouble! Whatever you do, don’t bring up the chocolate biscotti with her!!! I’ll explain later. Enjoy the rest of your evening. Have fun! ?? Xxx

Getting back to the safety of the room was a relief. It was peaceful, away from the noise of Maria’s wrath, and it was also cool thanks to the air conditioning. I slipped off my sandals and curled up on the small couch whilst scrolling for Zack’s number in my phone.

“Hey you.” His voice was like music to my ears. “Everything okay?”

“Hey! Yes, it’s all good here. Just thought I’d check in. Are you all right? Are you free for a chat?”

“Yeah, I’ve just got to yours to let Bing in and give him some food.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s great, he’s barely left me alone since I walked in. I’ve just been out for tea with my mum and dad. All they did was talk about you. They can’t wait to meet you. I think they like you already.”

I was looking forward to meeting them. They lived in Spain for most of the year, but had come home for a couple of months to see family and friends, and I suspected to escape the southern Spanish heat. English summers are known for being cold and dreary, after all.

“Unluckily for you, that means you can’t dump me for a hot young blonde.”

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