The Ingredients for Happiness

by Lucy Knott

  She shifted so she was fully facing him now and in a sitting position, her legs crossed on the bed. ‘Dan. That is where you are wrong. If something is bothering you, I am here for you. I can help you and we can figure it out together, you can’t keep it bottled up because I will worry, and it will affect us in the long run if you don’t let me in.’

  Dan was still sitting up, his muscled torso evident in the morning sunrise. He truly was beautiful. Amanda loved him. They needed to get through this blip because he was her best friend, she couldn’t be without him. Dan turned to prop himself up on his elbow.

  ‘Trust me, baby girl,’ he whispered into the darkness, making Amanda’s chest deflate. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t feel shut out from him. But was what he was asking such a bad thing? After all she was asking the same of him; to trust her? She trusted him, of course she did. Didn’t she? Was she letting her own fears creep into her subconscious? Was she forcing Dan to speak up based on her own needs rather than putting Dan first and giving him the space he clearly wanted? Her mind seemed to answer for her as she got up and walked towards the door. Dan didn’t speak and didn’t get up after her.

  It bugged her, Amanda couldn’t deny it. She wished her grandpa was here to offer her advice. He and Nanna had been together for over sixty years and they were very much in love till the day he passed away. What had been their secret? Amanda racked her brain with memories of her grandpa, of his words of wisdom, as she made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Before she knew what she was doing she had pulled out the eggs, flour, butter and sugar from the fridge and cupboards. Grandpa had never been a fan of her previous boyfriends, but he had loved Dan. Was her experience with Jason interfering with her ability to be patient and understanding with Dan’s feelings or did she have a right to be frustrated that he wasn’t letting her in? She placed the mixing bowl on to the counter with a thud. With Jason she had felt frightened, weak and pathetic. Was this how she made Dan feel? What had she done for Dan not to trust her? He had just moments ago told her that he did. So, why was she having such a hard time believing him? Something felt off. She chopped the butter with vigour and threw it into her bowl. They had only been dating nearly four months; was this a sign that they had been better off as friends?

  Amanda rubbed the butter into the flour, not measuring anything, just trusting her instincts, like Grandpa taught her in the kitchen. ‘They are right, no?’ he would say when her instincts produced the most delicious pizza dough or homemade pasta. She laughed at the memory. She certainly had her grandpa’s love of cooking and fiery passion. Louisa had most definitely got his ability to love without logic or fear. And Sabrina had picked up on his will and determination to see things through no matter how tough. It made her a good leader. Amanda added a splash or five of sambuca to her mixture along with eggs and a touch more flour to soak up the liquid, using her hands to combine her ingredients. Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her waist. She closed her eyes, focusing on her hands, kneading the soft dough into a ball. Dan swayed from side to side, not saying a word, his cheek buried in her hair. Once she had her dough, Dan simply moved with her as she placed it onto a baking sheet and manipulated it into a log. She wiggled out of his grip to put the tray in the oven and washed her hands.

  When she turned around, Dan was holding the tea towel while leaning against the fridge, just standing there ever so casually in his boxer briefs. His eyes looked weary. It was the first Saturday in a long while that he had had the opportunity to stay in bed and rest, yet here he was, standing right by her side at two in the morning, looking like some sort of rugged, tattooed heavenly creature and it terrified her. Dan had never, not once in all the time she had known him, terrified her. She loved him so much. Her heart felt good about this. Her soul screamed that this new relationship was right; them being so intimate with each other was one thousand per cent right, so why was Dan being distant?

  Dan handed her the tea towel and still no words passed his beautiful lips. Then he moved past her and set about retrieving the cafetière, coffee, and sugar, and filling up the kettle. He knew where everything was now. After the three weeks he had spent here in January, he knew her routine, her systems, where she kept everything. It was easy for him. He fit into her place like the missing piece to her puzzle. Dan wasn’t an overthinker like her. To others he might come across as mysterious and sure, he had layers – he knew what he wanted the world to see, what he wanted to share and what he didn’t – but with Amanda he lay it all bare. Well, except for now.

  The kettle boiled. Amanda leant against the counter watching as Dan spooned the right amount of coffee into the cafetière, added the water, mixed it around with a spoon, placed the lid on and waited a few moments before pushing it down. He was a good student, remembering exactly what her nanna had told him. It wasn’t exactly rocket science, but her nanna and grandpa knew a thing or two about Italian coffee and Dan liked his coffee and loved his food. He pulled two cups from the cupboard and took them to the table. Then went back for the cafetière. The kitchen light bounced off his olive skin, the veins in his biceps visible when his arms tensed.

  This was the unfiltered, un-photoshopped, raw version that the media didn’t get to see. It was intimate. It was special. A smile curved at her lips as Dan took a seat at her small kitchen table. He placed half a teaspoon of sugar in her coffee and stirred. Then with all the grace of a god, he looked up at her, flicked his messy, yet stylish, locks back and offered her a slight smile. It wasn’t cocky. It was simply sweet and reassuring. The timer beeped on the oven, reminding her that she was baking. Dan stood up. A faint chuckle left her lips. It wasn’t often that Dan left her to it in the kitchen. In Italy he had loved watching her and her zias cooking together and was always ready to lend a hand. When they returned to England in January, it had been their first taste at living together and Amanda quickly found out that cooking would no longer be a solitary thing for her. And she wasn’t complaining. As much as she loved pottering around the kitchen by herself, she loved having Dan pottering with her more. They would talk about anything and everything as they busied themselves with chopping and mixing. Dan would suggest ingredients and, in typical Grandpa fashion, Amanda would tell him why they would or wouldn’t work. It was currently a tie between who was right regarding what worked and what didn’t. The foodie in Dan had some good ideas. Amanda would tell him this. Sometimes.

  Amanda saw to taking the cantuccini from the oven while Dan grabbed a chopping board. Amanda placed the log on to the board. After a few moments she carefully sliced it. Dan picked up the slices and spread the biscotti evenly on the baking sheet before Amanda put it back in the oven for twenty minutes. Then she wandered over to the table to sip her morning coffee. Dan walked behind her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. The feel of his calloused fingertips resting on her collarbone had goose bumps running wild all over her skin. He lowered a kiss on the top of her head. Was Amanda right to let her guard down, to smile and gloss over what had just happened some thirty minutes ago? Was it a sign that whatever problems they faced, patience was key, and they would get through it? Because this – right now in the kitchen – she wanted to keep this, and she wanted to keep it with Dan.

  Amanda swiveled around on her chair into a kneeling position, better to reach Dan. She looked up, meeting his all-encompassing deep brown eyes. She was about to break the silence when Dan spoke.

  ‘Honey, I haven’t forgotten our conversation from earlier,’ he said, his fingertips brushing over her lips; she hadn’t either. But she was grateful for this moment when she let her soul guide her and not her wandering mind. ‘We can talk more later. Okay? Just give me some time.’ His rough and raspy voice sent a warmth through her body as her hands explored his. Patience, she could give Dan patience, couldn’t she? She could and she would trust him because he needed her to. She just had to trust that whatever Dan was struggling to tell her was not that he thought they were better off as friends.

  ‘Late
r. Yes,’ Amanda mumbled through a kiss that was growing steamier by the minute. Suddenly the timer on the oven sent a loud continuous beep through the kitchen. Twenty minutes! Had they been making out for twenty minutes? She carefully pulled away from Dan, her lips tingling, her neck stiff from tilting to reach him and her knees creaking from having been knelt on the wooden chair lost in a kiss for twenty minutes.

  ‘Shoot, the cantuccini.’ Amanda pulled away from Dan and stepped towards the oven. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into him.

  ‘Later,’ he said, his big brown eyes wide, a flicker of innocence behind them now. He looked cute. Her rugged, muscly, tattooed boyfriend actually looked cute. Amanda let out a hearty laugh.

  ‘No, not later. They’ll burn,’ she said. Dan threw her a charming side smile and a disarming wink, before seeing to a fresh cafetière of coffee.

  Chapter 22

  Grandpa’s Cannoli

  Ingredients:

  For the shells:

  Flour

  Egg

  Oil

  Marsala (be careful, not too much this time – drowning it does not work for this recipe)

  For the filling:

  Ricotta

  Perugina dark chocolate

  Amaretti biscuits

  Vanilla

  What to do:

  Combine all shell ingredients into a bowl to form dough.

  Chill for a while. (Maybe a good hour? Grandpa could get impatient; it didn’t do the pastry any harm.)

  This is the tricky bit. Copy what Grandpa did, rolling out dough and forming small discs to wrap around Cannoli tubes.

  Fry in sunflower oil or vegetable oil (heck, I’m sure Grandpa used olive oil once, but don’t do that, it takes away the sweetness) until lightly golden brown. (Doesn’t take long.)

  Leave to cool on plate, with kitchen roll to absorb excess oil.

  Combine ricotta, melted chocolate, crushed amaretti and vanilla until they form a nice smooth paste.

  Fill pastry bag and fill shells.

  It couldn’t have been a more perfect spring day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, leaving it a dazzling clear blue. Golden beams of sunshine were lighting up the daffodils and cherry blossoms in her nanna and grandpa’s garden, and the air was warm. Sabrina had on her favourite baby pink and white polka dot skater dress with her hair in a high ponytail and was stood on the doorstep gripping onto Levi’s muscly bicep.

  ‘Baby, I told you. I’ve just got to nip out and do Dan a favour. I will not be late for tonight’s gig, I promise. Stop pouting,’ Levi said nibbling her bottom lip and groaning. He looked extra soft and cuddly this morning in his bright blue hoodie. Sabrina whimpered a little and gave him a flutter of her eyelashes to no avail. Then she stood on her tip-toes to further entice him with a kiss. ‘I know what you’re doing, but I’ve really got to go. I love you,’ he said, kissing her nose and stepping out into the April sunshine. Those words from his lips rendered her speechless; all she could do was smile, wave and watch him walk away as she tried to float back down to earth.

  When Levi was no longer in view, she did a quick sweep of the house; lights switched off, straighteners unplugged, paperwork and bits and pieces she would need later folded neatly in her bag, check, before throwing her trusty pink Chanel bag over her shoulder ready to head into town.

  A short bus ride and a walk through Piccadilly Gardens later and the familiar smell of Kimbo coffee and sweet Italian breakfast pastries made Sabrina’s taste buds come alive with anticipation. Torta per Tutti looked positively Italian with its bold and bright ceramic plant pots underlining the bay window out front, making Sabrina’s shoulders rise with glee. A good, rich Italian coffee and a large slice of pastiera with a side of cannoli was what she needed.

  Upon seeing the sun bounce off the display of Easter eggs decorating the café window, Sabrina’s mind drifted to Louisa and how she would be enjoying this Easter in Italy. Oh, how the girls had adored Easter in Italy when they were kids. The Easter eggs were something else. The shiny plastic silver and gold wrappers – sometimes multi-coloured, pink, purple or yellow, or printed with the likes of The Avengers or Disney princesses – the secret toys inside and the creamy decadent chocolate made her eyes twinkle like a child on Christmas morning, and her mouth water. They had the same effect now. Sabrina lit up seeing the display that Amanda had managed to import with Luca’s help.

  Thinking of Luca and Louisa, Sabrina quickly checked her phone before stepping inside the café and getting lost in the drool-inducing cake counter. She still hadn’t heard from Louisa, which seemed odd considering her little sister always texted without fail on show days. Maybe Louisa was giving her a taste of her own medicine. She really had fluffed up a lot over the last few months. Now though, with the ban lifted on where the boys could and couldn’t venture and their publicist not being quite so hard on her dictation of the boys being something they weren’t, Sabrina hoped balance would be restored in her brain; work was work and home was home. She could now get back to not walking on eggshells whenever she was out in public with Levi and she could get back to being there for her sisters more now that she wasn’t caught up in pushing her family away in order to appease other people.

  Francesca greeted her with a smile as warm as the vanilla-scented air while Kate was seeing to other customers. Sabrina waved over at Kate, happy to see the café bustling with people all wearing cheerful expressions, their tables full of one of everything in the counter and coffees to wash the treats down with. Francesca saw to getting Sabrina a coffee so Sabrina snuck into the kitchen to say good morning to Amanda while it brewed.

  ‘Hey Brina,’ Amanda said, her head down and focused on carefully folding cannoli.

  ‘Hey, how’s it going? It smells divine in here,’ Sabrina gushed, her eyes wandering over the production line of produce, mixtures and bakes ready for the oven. She wondered if there was a bowl she could lick. Patience often eluded her and Louisa when it came to waiting for Amanda’s food to come out of the oven.

  Amanda chuckled, drawing Sabrina to turn her attention away from the tray of Italian rocky road that looked majestic, like a unicorn had sprinkled it with every rainbow sprinkle ever made.

  ‘The bowl for that is just by the sink,’ Amanda noted, looking up from her cannoli making to wink at Sabrina. Lauren smiled and nodded in the direction of the bowl. Well, if they both insisted. Sabrina quietly devoured the remnants of sprinkles, amaretti, crushed biscotti and cherries that had been left behind while getting to witness her big sister in her element. Of course, over the years she had watched Amanda in the kitchen at their nonni’s house, parents’ house and her own house when cooking up feasts for everyone, but she had only ever heard tales about the fast-moving, straining and stressful life on the line as a chef. Both Lauren and Amanda worked smoothly and efficiently, fiddling with the intricacies that were cannoli and sfogliatelle. The oven beeped, meaning Amanda had to carefully stop what she was doing without ruining the delicate curl of the cannoli, to see to it that nothing burned. It was non-stop when your counter was nearly sold out at only ten in the morning. Sabrina felt grateful for this moment to sit back and appreciate her sister. And then Amanda spoke, spoiling the moment with her sarcasm.

  ‘Are you going to stand there and stare at me all day? I thought you had rock stars to wrangle and a gig to put on,’ Amanda said through a side smirk.

  Once Sabrina was certain she could not scrape anymore Perugina chocolate from the sides of the bowl, she placed it in the sink and left it to soak in some hot water before addressing her sister by sticking her tongue out.

  ‘I expect to see you all there later,’ Sabrina said with a wave of her hand as she pushed open the kitchen door.

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Amanda shouted through the back swing as Francesca handed Sabrina a coffee. Sabrina gave her a hug and a thank you, collected a box of treats for the crew and boys for tonight’s show and with a belly full of Italian chocolate headed for the venue to man
age San Francisco Beat for the first time under City Heights Records.

  *

  An energy filled the room that only forty-five minutes of Tyler Wall and his guitar could conjure. Mum was wiping away tears, Dad was clapping enthusiastically while shaking his head muttering ‘Fantastic. Absolutely brilliant,’ and Amanda’s throat was horse from singing her heart out down Sabrina’s ear. Sabrina was still swaying to the last strum of Tyler’s guitar that vibrated in the airwaves as he left the stage. It had been a long time since she had had the pleasure of seeing Tyler perform; he blew her away every time. She was pleased that he had been more than happy to open for San Francisco Beat when he was such a big star in his own right, but he had agreed with an enthusiastic yes and that he would love nothing more than to be graced with such an opportunity.

  ‘God, that guy is good,’ Amanda croaked. Sabrina could see her big sister following the movements of Jamie, the sound tech guy, as he replaced Tyler’s stool and mic stand with Dan’s mic. Amanda’s eyes looked lost in a daydream as the room grew quiet, the lights lowered, and San Francisco Beat took the stage. Sabrina recognized her sister’s ‘lost to the world around her’ look; it was the one that only Dan could procure from her. Amanda’s upbeat attitude and happier demeanour had not been lost on Sabrina today. She hoped that her sister and Dan were doing okay now, and it wasn’t just the promise of chocolate later that was giving her sister a dopey romantic expression.

  ‘Things okay with you guys?’ Sabrina nudged Amanda and whispered, as the boys settled into their spots.

  Amanda leaned into her. ‘I hope so,’ she said, as Dan grabbed the microphone, his eyes instantly locking on to Amanda’s. Sabrina watched as he brushed his tongue seductively over his lips, into that irresistible side smirk of his. His dark eyes sparkled in a way that made it clear there was only one person in this room his heart desired. Sabrina was pretty sure every woman in the crowd melted on the spot. ‘He is unreal,’ Sabrina laughed, unable to stop from shaking her head and shoving Amanda. Surely that fire in his eyes was a good sign that Sabrina hadn’t done any irreversible damage to their relationship and that Dan would be able to overcome the fears his dad embedded in him?