After the Storm (All I've Ever Needed)(20)

She heard Stephano’s muffled gasp as he caught a view of her from the back. She smiled to herself as she reached into her small cloakroom for the soft black wrap which complimented her shoes and bag. Earlier she’d tried red accessories and found the ensemble too bold, too in-your-face sexy. Black added sophistication and subtly muted the vibrant color of the dress.

With a twist of her wrists she settled the wrap over her shoulders and turned to face Stephano. He was looking around her tidy living room, but she sensed that he’d looked away a split second before she’d turned.

“Nice place,” he complimented.

“Thank you.” She was proud of her house. Decorating was her only hobby apart from reading and she had done most of the work herself.

He placed his hand at the back of her waist as she preceded him through her front door and towards his car.

“I need to buy myself somewhere soon,” he said, envy tingeing his voice. “I can’t keep living with my parents. It’s becoming embarrassing.”

“Wouldn’t you miss living at home and having your mother pamper you?” she teased as she adjusted the seat belt across her chest.

“I did miss home when I shared a flat with three other students during my first year at King’s College. They were dirty and noisy and life was an endless party. I don’t know how they got any work done. I spent most of the time back at home, so I didn’t renew my contract for a second year.” Stephano laughed. “But maybe I should have used the opportunity to make a run for it. My mother behaves as though I’m divorcing her every time I mention buying my own home.”

“I wanted to stay at home when I went to university, but my mother insisted that I needed to be more independent.” She said the words lightly; he could have no idea of how traumatic leaving home had been.

“My mother probably wouldn’t blink an eye if I told her I was getting married tomorrow and moving my wife into the house.”

Natalie laughed at the image.

“I’m sure she would put her foot down if you tried!”

“You don’t know my mother.” Stephano continued solemnly, “Take my advice: never have an Italian mama.”

“Okay,” she agreed equally seriously and then they both burst out laughing at the absurdity.

“Would she be okay if she knew that we were…” Natalie let the sentence tapered off. They were what? Friends? Lovers?

“She would be fine.” Stephano sounded confident.

“Are you sure?” She didn’t want him to think that she was accusing his mother of being prejudiced, but Natalie needed to know why he was so certain his mother would be fine with the two of them having a relationship.

“Her best friend Shirley’s Jamaican. And you met my mother on my birthday, cara. Did she treat you any differently to the guys?”

“No,” she conceded. If anything his mother had gone out of her way to ensure that she was well looked after.

Natalie had almost not gone to the birthday celebration.

He had announced the first Monday in December, “Guys, my ma’s inviting you all for dinner at the restaurant for my birthday on Friday 16th so don’t make any plans.”

Assumed she wasn’t invited, Natalie had come to work early that morning and logged off her PC an hour earlier than usual at five, not wanting to be there when the last of the group left at six to join the others at the pub and then to the restaurant. The humiliation would have been too much to bear. She had grabbed her bag and was reaching for her jacket when Stephano asked, with something sounding very much like hurt in his voice, “Natalie, aren’t you coming to the restaurant? My mother’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“Me?” she’d asked incredulously.

“Yes, I’ve told her all about you and she wants to meet the brave young woman who works in an office with nine men.”

“I didn’t know that I was invited,” she had admitted honestly.

“Of course you’re invited!” Stephano threw up his hands in typical Italian fashion of disbelief. “You were here when I issued the invitation!”

“Yes, but you said, ‘guys’.”

“You’re one of us, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she’d conceded. It was a mark of respect and most times she liked the fact that they afforded her mutual respect. But sometimes she wondered if the guys would have found it as easy to think of her as one of them had she been a petite, blue-eyed blonde.

“Well, alright then. Give me another half an hour. I just need to reply to this email and I’ll be ready.” Stephano had picked up his mobile and said, “I’ll just tell the guys to finish their drinks and we’ll leave at half five, instead of six.”