A/N: I've had a few messages asking if I'd be finishing this story, and that motivated me to write this – I'm sorry it's been so long! Thank you for your comments. I realise that if you do decide to read this you'll be having to remind yourselves of part 1 because I wrote that SO long ago...after this there's still one final part to go. Thanks again guys!

The Weekend – Part 2

Saturday evening

Troy was sitting back in the lounge, alone in his thoughts. He didn't know where his parents has disappeared off to and he didn't much care. He wondered what had possessed him to spend his birthday with them; but as Gabriella reappeared before him he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

"It's past seven," he noted with a frown. "I can't believe they've still got you working!"

The young maid smiled. "I just finished for the night," she explained. "I'm actually lodging here until I find myself a flat, but I'm on my way out to get some dinner. So I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Troy sat up, surprised about the living arrangements until he reminded himself that the previous maids had been married and so obviously had households of their own before taking the job. Then something else occurred to him. "Hang on – does that mean my mum and dad don't pay you? Are they taking all your rent out of what would be your wages?"

"Oh, no," she assured him. "I mean, my rent does come out of my pay but I still have some left over."

He was relieved for her, in a way that he knew was odd when he had known her for less than a day. "But they couldn't have invited you to eat with us, considering you cooked our lunch? That's...harsh. I'm sorry you have to put up with that."

Laughing, Gabriella shook her head. "It's not like my cooking skills are good enough to make me feel like I'm missing out," she joked.

"Well, I enjoyed it. So where do you like to take yourself for dinner?"

"There's a pizza restaurant a couple of streets away. They know my order so well now that all I have to do is walk in and the manager tells the kitchen to get it started." She grinned at him. "Best pizza I've ever had, anywhere."

Troy raised an eyebrow. "The best, you say? Even better than Freddie's back in London?"

This earned him a smirk from Gabriella. "I've never tried his pizza, but I'd bet my favourite beats yours, yes."

"Hmm, this sounds like quite a risky bet. Would it be totally awkward of me to invite myself along and try the food myself?"

She looked at her feet. "Yes." Then, before he could backtrack, she raised her eyes to his and smiled. "But I think you should do it anyway."

His mood lifting completely, Troy picked up his jacket and followed her out of the house, fishing his car keys from his pocket as they walked. "In that case, let's take my car."

"It's really not that far, though," Gabriella protested. "There's no need."

He opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in. "Please. It's already starting to get dark. Let's be lazy, shall we?"

With a laugh and a sigh, she got in the car and shut the door. Within five minutes she had directed him to her chosen destination for dinner. "Okay, 'Rocco's Pizza' – impress me!" he announced as they parked and wandered inside the restaurant. He sent his companion a playful grin to show he was simply playing along with their 'challenge', and was delighted as she raised an eyebrow as if daring Troy to suggest that the food wouldn't be up to scratch.

Gabriella made a beeline for the counter as there was no queue. The menu was on the wall above it. "So," she began, her voice suddenly taking on a more self-assured tone, Troy thought. "What are you having?"

He glanced at the list of options, then returned his gaze to her. "You know what? I'll eat pretty much anything on a pizza. Since you're trying to sell me on this place, how about you choose for me?"

She merely blinked at him. It took him a minute to realise why; she was used to being told what to do by her parents. The idea of her choosing his food for him probably sounded like some kind of prank from her point of view.

"Really, I'd like you to choose for me," he assured her. "I don't have a favourite – you should see me back at home, I've actually had every kind of pizza known to man. Anything to avoid cooking."

This remark brought Gabriella back to herself. "You don't cook? What, not at all?"

Troy shook his head. Her genuine shock was evident. But before she could comment any further, a smiley man with greying hair and a moustache appeared behind the counter.

"Hey, Rocco," she greeted him warmly, and he called out a polite hello as well.

"Gabi! The usual, is it?" the older man asked with a knowing grin, and as she nodded at him the exchange made Troy feel glad to be there. There was something warm about the place, like being welcomed into a family environment, somehow. A world away from how it had felt to return to the Bolton family home.

"And this is Troy," Gabriella offered as Rocco looked on. "Can you do one of your specials for him?" She looked at the menu for a few seconds. "Let's go with...the meat feast. Thanks," she added as he disappeared off to deal with their orders.

"So, Rocco makes all the pizzas himself?" Troy asked, watching as the man headed straight for the kitchen.

"Not all of them," she replied with a smirk. "That would be impossible during their rush hours. But he does as much of the prep and the cooking as he possibly can. Saturdays around this time are perfect because the dinnertime rush is out of the way, and there's still hours left before the late night party-goers turn up to mob the place. You're guaranteed a quiet meal, and it's almost always Rocco making your pizza."

"You seem to know a lot about the business," he said, eyeing her curiously. Their heads snapped up as they heard Rocco call out to a younger guy working nearby, asking him to take their drinks orders while he made their meals.

"It's my second job," she explained casually, then turned to speak to the man approaching them. "How's it going, Marc? A lemonade for me please."

Marc looked to Troy with an expectant smile, and he barely thought about it before answering: "I'll have a coke, thanks."

When it was just the two of them again, and they'd found themselves a nearby table, he looked at Gabriella, stunned. "When on earth do you have the time to work a second job?"

"I'm off maid duties on Sundays, so I'm always here then." she told him. "And I do the odd evening shift too."

He considered this, shaking his head in disbelief. "Wow. So you literally never get a day off?"

As their drinks were brought over, she took a sip of her lemonade and looked him in the eye, her voice deadpan."What's a day off?"

And Troy would have taken her seriously had their not been an amused sparkle in her eyes – the eyes he couldn't seem to look away from whenever their gazes locked.

"I don't know how you do it, Gabriella," he said, taking a long gulp of his own drink. "I couldn't keep doing what I do if I didn't have the weekend breaks to look forward to. Not that I hate what I do or anything; it's just a little bit irritating and sometimes I wish I wasn't my own boss, that's all." He chuckled, knowing he sounded ridiculous. He was sure that this woman probably longed to be her own boss, especially when the people she currently worked for (well, for six out of her seven day working week, anyway) were so cold and rude.

"I do it to earn enough money for university," she explained. "I decided I didn't want to start my course until I could afford to pay for it. At least for the first year. I'm not saddling myself with the debt!"

Troy smiled at her. "Very smart. What are you going to study?"

"Art and Design – but it's mainly the fashion design area that I'm interested in."

He looked at the passion in her eyes just at the mention of it and he could see it – he could picture her getting away from his mum and dad's house and doing what she really wanted, what she obviously loved, somewhere else. He could picture it because it was exactly what he had done.

"It sounds much more interesting than my degree, anyway," he replied. "Business and Marketing. It's every bit as boring as it sounds. Even for me, and I always wanted to run my own company."

Gabriella chuckled. "So what does your company do?"

"We're a chain of restaurants," Troy told her, biding his time with good reason.

She prompted him. "Specialising in..."

He spotted Rocco coming through with their food, waiting until he had set it down on their table and left them in peace before responding.

"Pizza," he said slyly, taking a bite of his meat feast special.

As she took the first bite of her usual char-grilled chicken and mushroom pizza, Gabriella stopped in her tracks. "You..." she exclaimed as she finished her first mouthful. "You run pizza places?"

He shrugged sheepishly at his mild deception. "'Fredrico's'" he informed her, now grinning in amusement at it's similarity to Rocco's place. Suspicious of his game now, the woman sitting opposite him frowned at the name. "Seriously, that's what it's called," he promised her. "We thought it would give it an Italian edge."

"No, I've heard of it," she replied. "I just thought you were joking. You're the one that started Fredrico's? I mean, those restaurants are so popular!"

"And you don't think I'm believable as the brains behind that operation?" he asked, pretending to be offended.

She looked horrified. "Oh! I'm so sorry, of course you...I never meant to imply-"

"Hey," he interrupted, feeling bad. She looked stricken at his playful accusation. "Hey, I was just having fun with you, Gabriella. Don't worry."

She let out a long breath and managed a nod. "It's Gabi," she told him after a silence. "Call me Gabi."

"Okay, Gabi. So, anyway, I can understand why it sounds unlikely, me being associated with such a big chain. It's a good job I don't involve myself in the cooking."

Now that she understood his humour, she looked bemused. "Well, I was going to say! So what do you involve yourself in?"

"The advertising," he replied. "The accounts, the managerial side – at least when it comes to organising staff wages and that kind of thing. I have an office in every restaurant from London to Liverpool, but I'm based in London. My best friend Freddie is the real talent behind the place. The menus and the dish choices are all his creations. He mainly sticks around in our London branch with me, but he'll head out to the others to check on the quality of the food if necessary."

Gabi's smile got wider as she listened. "So he's Fredrico, then," she remarked.

"That's right. He makes the best pizza I've ever tasted – although actually I might have to rethink that title now I've tried Rocco's. This meat feast is amazing. Your friend here could put me out of business!"

"Don't tell him that – he'll be getting a big head," she giggled. "Anyway, it sounded a lot like you were admitting I was right, just then. About who's favourite pizza is better," she reminded him.

"Ah, well hang on," Troy backtracked. "I'll need to try every pizza on this menu before I make my decision."

"Then it's only fair I do the same with your friend's pizza," Gabi shot back.

He nodded. "I can't argue with that."

"Freddie's..."she shook her head at how casual he'd been over his favourite pizza back at the house. Of course, had she known he was really referring to the well-known chain of restaurants, she wouldn't have been so bold in her claim that Rocco's was the best.

They finished their food in a comfortable silence, both of them still amused at the conversation they'd just had. Gabi then got up to pay using her discount, and Troy insisted on giving her his half when she tried to shrug it off. He thanked Rocco and Marc for their service and walked with Gabi back to his car.

It was quiet when they got back to the house. And not just because there was still no sign of the older Boltons. Troy could feel a shift in the initial connection he'd felt between him and Gabi. It left him wanting to kiss her goodnight. Only how could he be thinking like that when he'd known her just a matter of hours?

This wasn't remotely the same as meeting a woman in a bar or a club and kissing her just for the hell of it; just because he'd had a few beers or because he craved the feeling of a woman's lips on his. This was about wanting to kiss this woman in front of him, because of who she was. Because something was happening to him since meeting her that morning.

Either way, whatever he wanted, Troy didn't kiss her. He stood awkwardly by the stairs, her folding her jacket over her free arm and smiling shyly at him.

"So...thanks, Troy," Gabi said finally, speaking in the quiet voice she'd started out with. "For the lift, and for the company. And happy birthday, again."

He smiled. "Thank you for your company. Andfor introducing me to Rocco's pizza. It's certainly the best time I've had while eating fast food."

"I should..." she trailed off, gesturing upstairs. "See you in the morning?"

Troy hoped he hadn't imagined the hope he heard in her voice. "Yeah, I'll be here. Goodnight, Gabi."

She wished him goodnight back, and as she made her way up the stairs he headed into his parents' kitchen to raid the fridge for beer. Or whatever alcoholic drink he could get his hands on.

At least this birthday hadn't been quite as bad as it had started out.