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Neither of us ate more than a mouthful the entire evening, and now both of our stomachs are groaning. That’s the problem when you are hosting, not that I have ever hosted a single thing. There was always someone who needed talking to or a wine glass that needed topping up. It was hard bloody work.

Carmela apparently anticipated the starvation part. She always knows these things without a single word being exchanged. God, I'm so grateful for her.

Ellise stops as the front door opens.

“Is that—” she tilts her head slightly as the smell hits us. “She isn’t cooking, is she?”

“Carmela? Probably.”

“At midnight?”

“She doesn’t like to see me starve,” I admit.

“I know she loves you, but she waited up to cook you food?” There is a slight sarcastic tone to her voice. “That is pretty adorable and a bit worrying.”

“Okay, okay.” I’m a bit embarrassed to admit how much I rely on it. “She does this a lot.”

“Julian,” she exclaims, the way she does when I catch her off guard.

“Come on,” I mutter. “She will have heard the car.”

She did. Carmela is standing by the stove when we enter the kitchen, her faded blue apron covered in sauce, as it always is.

She turns around, her eyes instantly landing on Ellise. Without hesitation, she opens her arms inviting her into a hug. Even though Ellise has been staying at the townhouse for weeks, Carmela has mostly kept her distance.

It seems that tonight she has decided that it is finally time they officially meet.

“She is exactly as you described her,” Carmela says over Ellise’s shoulder to me.

My chest tightens. Shit.

“I didn’t describe her,” I lie, suddenly aware that an unexpected flush is creeping up my neck.

How embarrassing.

“Yes you did,” Carmela counters pleasantly.

Shut up, Carmela.

I look at her with wide eyes, silently pleading for her to drop it before she makes me sound like a right nutter.

Ellise pulls back and looks at me, highly amused. “You described me.”

“I mentioned certain details about you.”

“He said you were a beautiful musician,” Carmela adds, using the information against me. She gives me a cheeky wink.

“For God’s sake, Carmela,” I blurt.

Carmela lets out a laugh, muttering something in Italian as she walks back to prepare the dish.

Ellise bites down on her lower lip, desperately trying not to laugh at the trap I’ve walked into.

“Sit down,” Carmela says to both of us, shifting into the maternal figure who believes that a hot meal fixes anything. “Both of you. It looks like you haven’t eaten a proper thing all day.”

She always says this. It’s usually an excuse for more food, but tonight, it’s spot on.

“What is this?” Ellise beams, leaning into the middle of the table as Carmela places a dish between us.