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Marta ignored me and lifted Leo up in the air and then back down again to her face, showering him with a thousand kisses. I’d let her blanking me go. Language barrier and all that.
She handed Leo back to Lorenzo and then took off her coat. Marta shivered, rubbed her hands together and then said something else to Lorenzo.
‘You’re cold?’ I asked.
‘Mamma asked if you could put the heating on, for Leo.’
For God’s sake.
There was nothing wrong with the temperature. Yes, it was the beginning of February and still quite chilly outside, but not in here. I glanced over at the thermostat on the wall and it was twenty-one degrees.Honestly.
Before I’d had a chance to reply, Marta picked up a giant bag filled with food containers and waltzed straight past me into the kitchen.
Although I knew she’d probably find her way in here at some point, I hadn’t realised it would be so soon. It was fine. I’d scrubbed everything.
Except the windowsill, so it would seem…
I walked in to see Marta running her finger along it, holding her finger up and shaking her head.
Jesus.Did she have some sort of cleanliness radar? Trust her to pick up on the one thing I hadn’t done. I should have checked better. I scanned the room, looking for other potential pitfalls.
The kitchen was pretty big. Like most of the rooms here, wood featured heavily, so the cupboards followed the same theme, but they were a lighter shade and more modern: oak with sleek silver handles. Like the bedrooms, Lorenzo had given the kitchen a makeover before Leo and I came to live here. The ceilings still had the original wooden beams, though, so kept some character.
There was a large stove and two ovens, as Lorenzo liked to try out new recipes on his days off, plus a tiled island in the centre, with a couple of stools in front of it. I’d often sit there with Leo on a Sunday and watch Lorenzo cooking up a feast.
Marta started unpacking the bags.
‘What’s with all the food?’ I asked Lorenzo as he stood beside me.
‘Mamma has made somewonderfuldishes for us to enjoy tonight, including some of her amazing homemade pasta.’ He wrapped one arm around me whilst bouncing up Leo in the other.
‘Oh…right.’ My face fell. ‘I thought you were bringing home dinner tonight. From the restaurant?’
‘I had planned to do that, but when I spoke to Mamma, she said she would make it and—well, I could not let you miss the chance to try her homemade pasta. I cannot believe you have been here this long and not tasted it yet. You wait. It is not in this world!’
I loved it when Lorenzo didn’t get English sayings quite right. Especially in his gorgeous accent. Everything he said sounded sexy.
Twenty minutes later I’d put Leo to bed and dinner was ready. We sat down at the table. Marta had certainly cooked up a feast. The first course in Italy, orprimo piatti, was often pasta. It looked so professional too. Each tube was shaped to perfection. I took a large helping along with some of the sauce.Mmm. Lorenzo was right. Mamma’s pasta was indeed out of this world. Perfectly al dente. Tender but still with a slightly firm texture. It was some of the best pasta I’d ever tasted. Truly.
Even though she’d annoyed me earlier by implying Leo’s nappy needed changing (which I’d checked and—surprise, surprise—it hadn’t), I was a believer that credit should be given when credit was due. This dish was amazing. I should tell Marta so too. A compliment was always a good way to endear yourself to someone. Better still, what better way to win over yourItalianmother-in-law than complimenting her inItalian. Great idea!
I’d done a few food lessons on the Duolingo language app. I knew thatmi piacemeantI likeand delicious wasdelizioso.Yep. The Italian was starting to fall into place. I just needed to practise. And now was the perfect time.
‘Mmmm,’ I said, facing Marta. ‘Mi piace pene,’ I closed my eyes, then licked my lips to emphasise my enjoyment. ‘Delizioso!’
There!How’s that for progress?
Marta almost choked on her food and Lorenzo let out a loud snort.
Oh.That wasn’tquitethe reaction I was hoping for. Maybe my accent was too British?
Marta’s face turned to stone, whilst Lorenzo was now bent over in a fit of giggles.
‘What?’ I frowned, now turning to face him. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Sorry… I should not laugh,’ he said, doing exactly that. ‘Is just you say, you said…’ Lorenzo lowered his voice, almost whispering in my ear. ‘You told my mamma that you likepenisand that it is delicious!’
Shit.
