His expression changes then. It’s less engaged and more closed off. “It’s a long story,” he says, before taking a sip of his sparkling water. “I—”
“It’s OK,” I say. I respect his privacy, just as he respects mine. We’ll share our pasts when we’re ready. And now may not be the time.
The waitress brings over an antipasto plate, and I pop a kalamata olive in my mouth. Its deep, sharp flavor lures me back to Sunday morning brunch in Nonna Santorini’s warm New York City kitchen.
Ten years prior
Nonna Santorini places a bowl of steaming hot pasta in front of me. The noodles are handmade; so is the sauce. She uses only San Marzano tomatoes, grown in the terra-cotta pots on her balcony. She cans them each fall to have enough for sauces through the rest of the year. “You like Parmigiano-Reggiano?” she asks, wielding a block of white cheese and a grater.
“Yes, please,” I say.
James winks at me and refills my wineglass.
“We must fatten her up if she make you baby,” Nonna says to James.
My cheeks redden.
“You hear that, Ada?” James says, elbowing me lightly. “Nonna wants great-grandchildren.”
I smile and take a bite. It’s my first time meeting James’s grandmother, and I instantly love her. She’s short and stout and beautiful. Her silky gray hair is pulled back into a bun, and she wears a white apron around her waist. Everything about her is warm. Her kitchen. Her smile. Her embrace. Her heart. I decide that when I’m seventy-five years old, I want to be exactly like her.
“Do you like the food?” she asks, pushing the pasta bowl closer to me. “Have more!”
“Thank you,” I say. “I will.”
“James, dear,” she says. “Go out to the fire escape and get a log to add to the fire.”
He sets his napkin on the table and stands up obediently.
“You want babies?” Nonna asks after James has left the room.
“Yes,” I say, a little startled. “At least I think so.”
“Good,” she says, pleased. “You make happy babies.”
My cheeks redden, and I can’t tell if it’s just from the wine or the fact that I’m talking to my boyfriend’s grandmother about, well, sex.
“He loves you,” Nonna continues, smiling to herself. “The way he looks at you. There is much love in his eyes.” She kisses the gold locket around her neck. “So much love.”
“You OK?” Alex asks.
“Yes,” I say, nodding quickly. “Sorry. I was just thinking . . . it’s just that this restaurant reminds me of . . .”
“Memories,” he says.
I nod.
The band begins playing a soft melody. It’s something by Stan Getz, but I can’t remember the name of the song. I look at Alex sitting across the table, so kind, so gentle. I want to tell him, now. I want to tell him everything.
But just as I open my mouth, he does too.
“I have to tell you something,” he says. “About me.”
And instead of speaking, I listen.
Chapter 15
PENNY
I hear a beeping sound as I open my eyes. Where am I? I look up and see white walls. Everything’s white. A woman in a white dress, a nurse, hovers over me. “Morning, sugar,” she says, taking my wrist to check my pulse. “My, your husband will be happy to see you. We were worried there for a sec. I’ll just go get him.”
Is Dex here? I imagine how frightened he must have been to see me in this hospital bed. My eyes fill with tears. What happened? My head hurts; I reach my hand up to my temple and there’s a bandage.
The door opens and the nurse walks through the door again, this time with Collin.
“Darling!” he says, rushing to my side.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “I thought—”
“I thought I lost you,” he says, kissing my forehead. His face says “Play along,” so I do.
“Doctor Hanson is on his way in to see you,” the nurse chirps. “So sit tight with your husband now.”
I nod as she walks through the door. “What happened? Why does she think you’re my husband?”
“When I brought you here last night, they just assumed,” he says. “And then I realized that they don’t let anyone but family into this wing, so I had to lie.”
“Where’s Dexter?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” He looks uncomfortable, and it’s obvious he’s keeping information from me.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“Well, I went to find him. In Pioneer Square.” He rubs his forehead. “He wasn’t there, Penny.”