Before my failed wedding, I knew that I was going to be on my honeymoon for my birthday and I was so excited about it. I wondered what we would do to celebrate, whether we’d go to a restaurant or we’d shop for authentic Italian ingredients before making our own food together. Perhaps we’d go for a walk on the beach or cuddle up under the stars and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Whatever would happen, I was excited for my first birthday as a married lady. I don’t need to remind you how that played out.
I suppose, when I arrived here, never mind that it’s hard to keep track of the date when you’re on holiday, I just put all thoughts of celebrating out of my mind. Even when things turned around for me and I started enjoying myself, I suppose I just… forgot to let my birthday back in.
I was already blown away by the gesture, before I knew what it was. None of this would be happening without Ali, Marty and Freddie, and I can’t thank them enough for making an effort to make my birthday special. I’m sure that, in context, my first birthday with my new husband on my honeymoon would have been hard to top, but this… this is something else.
As soon as we were all dressed in our best (and I’d had my birthday FaceTime call with my family back home), carts arrived to drive us down to the dock, where we boarded a small private boat. I had no idea where we were going, which only added to the excitement. I asked if we were going back to the mainland or to visit Capri, but my friends just smiled at me, refusing to ruin the surprise in the last moments leading up to it.
You’d think I might be disappointed, when the boat didn’t actually take us away from the island at all. Instead it simply transported us to the other side, but it was nice to see it from a little distance, during the day. To admire the shifting scenery, from the beaches to the trees to the cliff faces.
After docking at a tiny jetty, that you would absolutely miss if you didn’t know it was there, we are walking up a narrow path, leading us gradually up the cliff face.
I do everything I can to try and pretend I’m not absolutely knackered from the walk. It’s not that it’s especially long or steep, I’m just incredibly unfit, it turns out. I am absolutely not getting back on my diet when I get home – my days of starving myself to squash into a dress for a man are a thing of the past – but I probably do need to start going to the gym more, so that I can walk up hills without dying and use my muscles without them aching for days afterwards.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ our boat driver/guide starts. ‘Welcome to Grotta Biancofiore.’
As we reach the top of the path and are ushered inside our destination, I feel my chin hit the hard floor. We’re inside the restaurant Freddie told me about, the one built inside a cave in the side of a cliff.
Inside it is nice and cool and kind of dark but, looking outside the cave, it’s like peering into another dimension, a portal to a hot and sunny place with an ocean, crashing against the rocky shore far below us.
There is just one table set up in the vaulted limestone cave, which somehow just looks exactly as you would imagine a cave to look, but also manages pulling off looking like an absolutely stunning restaurant too.
There is no music playing, no noisy air con, just the sound of the waves and the gentle breeze to keep us cool. Our table is right by the edge of the cave, looking out to sea. Only a small fence stands between us and a sheer drop.
‘This place is incredible,’ I say as I sit down. ‘Are we the only ones here?’
‘We hired it out for your birthday brunch,’ Marty tells me. ‘The place looks even better at night, with all the lights everywhere, but it was fully booked tonight and we were working at short notice so, I guess, you give people enough money, they’ll open a restaurant whenever you want.’
‘Not that the money matters,’ Freddie quickly adds.
‘I just… I can’t believe it… Is this real life?’ I ask as I look around. ‘Seriously, I think I might be in heaven.’
As waiters cover our table with a variety of sweet and savoury dishes – more food than I can imagine the four of us being able to eat – I realise that I must be right.
‘Yep, I’m dead.’
‘I’m okay with it,’ Ali says. ‘If this is the afterlife, I’m happy to live here for eternity. I always thought I’d go, y’know, downstairs.’
‘We all did,’ I tease with a laugh.
To drink there is a variety of fruit juices – the peach one is my absolute favourite – and the waiter takes our coffee orders. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever have another birthday as incredible as this for as long as I live.
‘Guys, I honestly can’t believe you’ve brought me here,’ I say after swallowing a mouthful of sfogliatella, a flaky lobster-tail pastry absolutely bursting with Nutella. ‘This is just… this is perfect.’
‘You are the love of my life,’ Ali tells me, leaning over to squeeze my shoulder. ‘You deserve the world.’
‘I am so lucky to have you,’ I tell her, before turning to the men. ‘Freddie, you’ve not even known me a month and, Marty, we met yesterday, and you organised my birthday party!’
‘Ah, forget about it,’ Marty said through a mouthful of frittata. ‘Any friend of Freddie’s is a friend of mine.’
I raise my eyebrows for a split second.
‘Yeah, okay, I know yesterday wasn’t a good start, and I knew you weren’t a hooker, I was just being cute, trying to scare you off so this one would come home and get back to work.’
‘Apology accepted?’ I reply. It sounds more like a question than a statement, but I’m not actually sure whether or not he’s apologising.
‘Seriously,’ he says. ‘You seem like you’re having a great time together, and I got to meet Ali, so I’ll drink to all of that.’
Marty lifts his espresso cup.
‘To Lila,’ he says. ‘The birthday girl.’
Everyone joins Marty in toasting me with their drinks.
‘So, did he nearly scare you off?’ Freddie asks me.
‘Nah,’ I reply casually. ‘I was tempted to take his money though.’
‘Hilarious,’ Marty replies. ‘You know, I thought it might work, make you think that Freddie was a bit of a bad boy, but as clients go, man, he’s a bit of a nightmare.’
‘Gee, thanks.’ Freddie laughs sarcastically.
‘Nothing wrong with him, he’s a great guy, but… as far as a client goes…’
‘I’m boring,’ Freddie spits out. ‘That’s what he’s trying to say. I’m a boring guy. I have no crazy exes. I haven’t had any wild affairs with the actresses or models he tries to set me up with. I’m just a dull guy who likes to watch movies and play video games and occasionally star in the odd BDSM movie.’
‘I mean, that last part doesn’t sound boring at all,’ Ali chimes in. ‘But, if it helps, the fact that there’s a complete lack of information about you out there – no skeletons, or exes, or skeleton exes – it may well be because you’re just a dull, average, normal guy. But to people like me, you seem mysterious. It makes me wonder about you. Question what dirty secrets you must be hiding.’
‘Is that good for business?’ Freddie asks Marty.
‘Erm, I guess, yeah,’ he replies. ‘I’d rather have people wondering whether or not you were into swinging than know you spent evenings on Red Dead Online.’
‘Then I’ll take it,’ Freddie says happily. ‘Another toast. To being boring.’
‘To being boring,’ I reply, clinking mugs with him. ‘It’s always served me well.’
‘Well, now we get to be boring together, don’t we?’ he says.
Gosh, I hope so.