Page 61 of My Lemon Grove Summer
I suddenly feel quite hot.
‘Of course, absolutely,’ and my tongue twists like it did the first day I saw him.
He slips off the table and goes inside, returning with a tape measure.
‘Ready?’ he asks, looking at me with his dark eyes.
I glance down at the sketch pad and think of how beautiful that dress will be, and try not to think about how it will feel to have his hands working their magic over my body. I look at my glass, then take a huge swig of limoncello.
‘Ready!’ I croak, feeling very hot indeed.
‘Arms out,’ he says firmly, a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose.
I can feel his hands brushing against my skin, and his warm breath there too. My nerve endings are like an electric fence running round my body, on high alert when he’s close and sending shocks through it every time he touches me.
He works slowly, running the tape measure along my arms. Then he turns and writes in the sketch pad, checking his measurements against the pencil drawings there.
I try to focus on looking out to sea, where the setting sun is creating a glittering pathway across the water, like it’s guiding me to a golden city, a place I long to be, a place I’d like to think is home. I look down briefly at Luca’s head and try to think of something to distract myself. Like Etna, there is a fire building, waiting to erupt right in the heart of me.
It’s like a strange torture that is both unbearable and delicious, and I want it to stop yet at the same time I never want it to end. What I want is for his hands to actually touch my skin instead of skimming it. It is taking all my mental willpower to not cave and crumble. The part of my body I thought had switched off and gone to sleep now that I have taken myself well and truly off the shelf and am happy and settled with Lennie is suddenly very much awake and demanding attention.
‘How do you think Lennie will feel when he sees you in the dress?’ Luca asks.
I look at him and then up at the ceiling, and I think about Lennie.
‘He will . . . he’ll feel like me. Like the stars have aligned. This is what was meant to happen all along. It’s our moment.’
‘You’ve certainly taken your time.’ His hand runs from my waist down my thigh to my calf, and my stomach turns to molten lava.
‘We wanted to be sure. I’ve spent my life making wrong decisions, following my gut instincts, acting in the moment and getting it wrong. Lennie isn’t one of those impulsive decisions. We’ve always got on. Always been best friends. We made a pact . . .’
‘A pact?’
I bite my tongue, wishing I hadn’t said anything.
‘What sort of a pact?’ Luca raises an eyebrow. I take a big breath.
‘When we were teenagers, at college, we agreed that if we hadn’t met Mr or Ms Right by the time we were forty, then we’d marry each other and live contentedly together.’
He says nothing for a moment, then, ‘You didn’t find true love, so you settled for second best?’
‘Lennie isn’t second best!’ I say defensively.
‘No. But if you don’t fancy each other . . .’ He looks at me quizzically.
‘A relationship is all about what you put into it. There’s more to it than fireworks and excitement.’ I’m aware that I sound like a schoolmarm.
‘You don’t believe in love at first sight then?’ He’s still doing the eyebrow thing and looking over the top of his glasses at me.
‘I just don’t think life is as simple as that: that you meet someone and fall in love and live happily ever after. Not at our age. It’s about finding companionship, shared goals.’
‘So, Mr Right didn’t come along in time, so you went for plan B.’
‘Something like that. It’s a good plan. One that will work. You know, you’re told in school, and in magazines and social media, that when you do this or that in life, you’ll move on to the next stage. Pass exams, get a career, have a house and partner. I just want all those things that we’re promised when we become grown-ups.’
‘And what if . . . what if you did discover there was such a thing as love at first sight? Then what would you do?’
I am not in love with Luca, I tell myself. It’s just a crush, an attraction.
