He raised an eyebrow. ‘How forward-thinking of her.’
‘In many ways, she was.’
A deep, unrelenting ache stabbed in her chest. She rubbed at it. Louisa missed Mae terribly. The love she’d shown Louisa. The care and patience. Allowing her to be herself, to find her way in her own time. Even though in later years Louisa seemed to have become somewhat...stuck.
No, not stuck. Settled. And there was nothing wrong with that.
‘Did you enjoy it, the champagne?’ Matteo asked.
‘I remember it was fizzy and I thought it tasted sour, so not really. I only had a few sips.’
Matteo chuckled and the sound rippled right through her in waves of something like pleasure. ‘Do you want to try again?’
Louisa slipped off her now unnecessary glasses and tucked them into her bag again, giving herself some time to answer. She could say no, but wasn’t tonight all about trying something new? Different clothes, different food. Living, when everyone else she’d loved was dead.
‘Why not?’
One of the waitstaff approached as if summoned telepathically. Matteo ordered in Italian, barely even looking at the menu.
‘So, what are we having for dinner?’ she asked.
‘It’s a surprise.’
An uncomfortable sensation skittered through her belly. Something almost like nerves. She always enjoyed certainty. Her life at Mae’s had been ruled by it. Though nothing over the past weeks had been certain, and she’d managed to survive it, so far.
‘Don’t you enjoy surprises?’
Matteo seemed to be able to pick up her emotions. Sense what she needed. She didn’t know how he managed it, but she didn’t want to ruin tonight with her insecurities. Louisa shook her head.
‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’
‘Finishing your illustrations is an achievement you should be proud of. It’s worth celebrating.’
‘Do you celebrate your achievements?’
A slight frown creased his brow. ‘Not really.’
‘I guess you have so many. If you celebrated each one, all that champagne. Would you ever be sober?’
His eyes widened for a moment, then he threw his head back and laughed. She loved the sound. Deep, throaty. The smile meeting his eyes, which crinkled at the corners in amusement.
‘There have been failures along the way. Don’t think I’m perfect.’
In so many ways, to her, he was. The hard, honed businessman melting away. For the briefest of flashes, he became Matty again. The young boy she’d remembered seeming to return, for rare moments at least. She’d take those where she could grasp them, no matter how fleeting.
The waiter arrived once more with a bottle, which he opened with a slow hiss and pop. Poured. Matteo took his glass. Raised it to her.
‘I hope you enjoy this a little better than your last attempt,’ he said. ‘To you, Louisa. Congratulations on finishing your illustrations on time.’
‘I always finish them on time.’ But the toast shouldn’t be to her. It should be to someone else. Someone she felt was in so many ways forgotten in this story. She raised her own glass.
‘To me,’ she said, with tears in her eyes, ‘and to Mae.’
He murmured in acknowledgement and their glasses clinked together. She took a sip of hers. The drink burst across her tongue, somewhat tart and refreshing. She swallowed, trying to look a bit sophisticated, but the bubbles tickled her nose and she coughed.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘It’s quite lovely.’ And dangerous. It fizzed inside her the same way as her insides did when she looked at him. The way he made her feel alive. ‘I think it’s a drink that might get people into trouble.’