Page 84 of All Mine
She’d started her social media posts, steadily building likes and followers and promoting the opening event on TikTok. The most important thing was that people give the restaurant a try. Because hopefully if they tried it once, they’d be back again in the future.
She’d already visited each of her suppliers and now had to put in final orders for meat, vegetables, pastas and condiments. Plus, she needed to get her membership at the local cash and carry for alcohol and stock the bar.
The vintage tables and chairs she had ordered would be arriving in the next few days and she couldn’t wait to dress them with candles and flowers.
Menus were at the printer’s. Aprons and napkins and tea towels hadn’t yet arrived, and she needed to chase the delivery.
The list went on. And on. And on.
Well, at least she had lots to do to keep her mind off a certain French man who was good with his hands.
Nonna was cooking rum biscuits by the tray load. She was always in a good mood after making a batch, probably because she sampled the rum every time.
‘Right on time,’ Nonna said and pushed the still-hot tray to Isabella.
‘Not for me,’ said Isabella, shaking her head.
‘But they’re so good,’ said Nonna, reaching for one herself. She took a bite and closed her eyes. ‘Bellissima!Why would you deny yourself pleasure like that?’ She set about transferring the biscuits to a cooling tray, helping herself to another sip of rum as she went.
Isabella watched her grandmother thoughtfully as she worked. Perhaps she was right. Why would she want to deny herself pleasure? And she wasn’t thinking about biscuits. Even if she had caught a case of the feels for Etienne, that didn’t change the deal they currently had on the table. They could enjoy no-sex fun until her sex ban was up. Then, if they had sex and it was of his usual one-night variety, it would be the last time she got to enjoy the pleasure that was Etienne Martin. So, shouldn’t she enjoy it as much as she could before then?
She marched back out of the kitchen and up to the window. The Bistro was closed; it was too early for the lunchtime serving. But it was not too early for the type of snack she had in mind.
Her to-do list could wait. She glanced at herself in the mirror, her shining eyes and full lips smiling back at her. She pulled her hair from its messy bun and let the waves fall down her back.
‘See you later, Nonna,’ she called back to the kitchen, pulling on her coat and throwing a scarf around her neck. ‘Errands to run.’ And she meant run too, as she speed walked across the square, one thing and one thing only on her mind.
It wasn’t until she got to the door of The Bistro that she saw the taped-up handwritten note there that stopped her in her tracks.
Closed today. Personal circumstances.
She bit her lip. That put a spoke in her plan. Now what? She put her hands to the glass and peered in. There were no lights on but the tables were already dressed for the next sitting. She scanned the room. The restaurant was empty, apart from one person in the corner. Head in hands, with a bottle of red wine in front of them. Etienne.
The feeling inside her flipped to concern. The slump of his shoulders. The wine at this time of the day. He literally looked like a study in sadness. She didn’t think about what she was going to do, she just did it. She knocked on the door, loudly.
He lifted his head towards her. She watched indecision cross his face before he stood up and came to open the door, holding the wine bottle by its neck.
‘We’re closed,’ he said flatly.
‘I can see that,’ she said, indicating the sign. ‘I wanted to check’– she paused and nodded at him– ‘are you okay?’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ he said, starting to close the door again. She leaned on it, propping it open.
‘You don’t look it,’ she said, eyeing the wine bottle in his hands.
‘It’s for a toast,’ he said, defensively. But the bottle was more than half empty already.
‘Has something happened?’ Isabella asked. ‘The sign says personal circumstances. . .’ She knew she was being pushy now, but somehow suspected he needed to be pushed.
Etienne blinked at her, then took a swig from the bottle. Suddenly he looked exhausted. He pushed a hand through his hair.
‘My parents died,’ he said.
Isabella dived inside the door and grasped his arms with both hands. His eyes widened.
‘I am so sorry,’ she gasped. ‘What? When?’
He stepped away, freeing himself from her.
