He chuckles under his breath. His hands begin moving again, filling the room with music. “Any requests?”
My eyes expand to the point of pain. “What?”
“Do you have a favorite song?”
“Me?” The question comes out as a whisper.
He dramatically looks around the room for someone else.
I throw a pillow at his head. It flops on the ground in front of him with an unsatisfying thump.
“Do you know how to play ‘XO’ by John Mayer?”
He strums the beginning chords of the song.
“Impressive. It’s like my own concert, right from the bed.” I sink back into the mattress, smiling over at him as he gets lost in the music.
His eyes shut and his hands move in the most bewitching way. The significance of him playing again isn’t lost on me. Santiago Alatorre reclaimed a part of his soul, and I never want him to lose it again.
“You first steam the milk, and then you pour it into the cup like this.” Matteo shows off his impressive skill of creating a flower out of coffee foam.
“You make it look easy.” I let out a huff.
He laughs. “Now you try.” He passes me a cup.
I attempt to recreate the same flower, but my design ends up looking more like a cactus.
“You’ll get it eventually.” He knocks his shoulder into mine. “It took me months before I mastered different designs.”
I step away and give him room to deposit our two cups of coffee in front of our only customers. He returns to the counter and starts cleaning the mess I made.
“I can do that. It’s my job.” I grab the rag from his hand.
“Oh, nonsense. I was cleaning long before you worked here, and I’ll be doing it after.”
I rear back. My sneakers squeak against the floor in my haste. “What?”
“Chloe”—he shakes his head—“you’re dating Santiago Alatorre. The fact that you’re working in this shop is shocking to begin with. If your dream is to own your own place, I’m sure he will set you up with whatever you want.”
“Umm, but I’m not ready for that. I still have so much to learn from you.”
“A baby bird never learns to fly if it’s too scared to leave the nest.”
Okay, Mr. Miyagi, settle down.
“Well, this baby bird still needs to learn some more from you. How can I start my own place if I still don’t know how to make dainty flowers out of fancy foam?”
“Well, the fall season is coming soon, and everything tends to slow down here.”
I stare around the empty shop, wondering what slow looks like.
Matteo smiles weakly. “And when it’s slow, I tend to work here less. I travel a bit. Visit some old friends across Europe.”
Oh, no. Is he seriously going to lay me off? He can’t do that. I’m not ready to lose this connection with him. Not after everything I’ve been through to get to this point of comfort with him.
He seems to take my silence as approval. “I plan on taking some time off in two weeks and closing the shop for a month.”
I choke on my sudden inhale of breath. “Two weeks? Closing shop?” Who can decide out of the blue to take a month off of work?
People who can pay their bills without skipping dinner for a week, Chloe.
He nods. “Don’t worry. I’ll still be around. And you always have a place to learn more from. But I wanted to tell you, that way you have time to find other arrangements. There’s another shop on the opposite side of the lake with a great…” He continues speaking but none of his words resonate.
Frustration replaces my anxiety. I’ve spent the whole summer building up a relationship with him, hoping for the right moment to admit who I am. I can’t let him disappear into the Italian sunset before I’ve had my chance to talk to him. To confront him and share what he means to me. Maybe if I reveal myself, he will decide to stay and get to know me. For real this time, minus the distractions and false apprenticeship.
Desperation makes me stupid.
I cut him off. “What do you think of having dinner together to celebrate the end of the busy season?”
Matteo smiles. “I’d love that. And we can celebrate you finding your stride, baby bird. You’ve spent a summer under my wing, and it’s time for you to get out in the world.”
I nod, finding it difficult to speak with the lump in my throat.
This baby bird is about to fly out of the nest. Let’s hope I survive the fall because if I don’t, a broken neck would be merciful.