Just then, the waiter returned with his tray. Chris and I sat down as he placed the plates on table in front of us.
“Courtesy of La Tavola Trattoria,” the waiter boasted. “Salmone al ferri e Veal Chop Rosmarino.”
“It looks delicious,” I said, my mouth watering with the smells that wafted off the plates.
Chris smirked as if he knew a secret. “Remember the ravioli from that Italian restaurant that you told us you loved the day your dad brought you here?”
Even after thirty-three years, I could almost taste the sauce in my mouth. “I remember not wanting to taste it because it had ‘green specks’ in it. My dad promised me it was delicious, so I tried it. Then I ate the entire bowl. Best ravioli I’ve ever had. The funny thing is I remember it so well because I insisted that they misspelled ‘ravioli’ on their menu. They left the ‘i’ off the end. I told our server that the cans in my pantry didn’t spell it that way. The waiter just laughed when I told him that. Oh, and when my dad read the menu to me, I couldn’t understand why they’d named their salmon ‘Carlos.’”
Chris smiled. “I remember. That’s how I found out that your dad took you to a place called Carlos & Carlos in Chicago. The owner of that restaurant, Juan Carlos Montiel, opened another restaurant not too far from here called La Tavola Trattoria.”
“Are you serious?” I squealed. “You did all that research, all this planning, just for me? Chris you are so amazing.” I squeezed his hand across the table.
Lifting my fork, I took my first bite of the salmon. I could almost hear the heavens open up and angels sing the Hallelujah chorus. The bite practically melted in my mouth, coating my tongue with flavor.
Wide-eyed, I mumbled with a mouth full of food, “This is fantastic.”
“I thought you might say that,” Chris beamed.
We ate in silence for several minutes while Il Volo continued to serenade us. For a few minutes it almost felt like we were actually in Italy.
“Grazie,” Chris thanked the waiter as he came to pick up our empty plates. “The food was delizioso.”
“Sono contento,” The tall, thin, balding waiter gave a little bow. “I’m glad you like it. Happy to make this evening special.”
The waiter scurried off with the plates on his tray as Chris stood up and reached for my hand. “Just one more tiny surprise,” he said excitedly. “Come with me.”
I placed my hand in his and he guided me toward one of the larger fountains, front and center of the tower.
“You’ll get the best view from here,” he told me as we sat down together on the ledge.
“What is it?” I asked, looking around at the same scenery we’d been seeing for the past hour.
Chris shook his head. “You should know me by now… you’ll see.”
I laughed and shook mine too. “I thought you’d say that.”
Just then, the first firework shot off in the distance, exploding behind the tower.
“Wow!” I cried, watching the colorful blast of red and white sparkle in the night sky and illuminate the stately monument.
One after another, fireworks blasted and twinkled in the dark. I watched in awe at the beauty of it all. “Thank you so much for this,” I told Chris.
Chris just smiled, nudging me gently with his shoulder. Suddenly I realized that no other man on earth could make me happier than the one sitting beside me.
I watched as the finale of fireworks erupted simultaneously. Losing myself in the beauty of the tower against the backdrop of tiny sparkling explosions, tears glistened in my eyes as I considered all the thought, research, and planning Chris did to make this night memorable. I turned my head to look at him. He’d stepped away from the fountain and was now kneeling in front of me with a very familiar black guitar in his hands. My hands immediately flew to my mouth. Oh my god! He kept it all these years!
Strumming a few chords, he held my gaze. “I remember the first time I sang for you,” he said softly. “I remember watching you walk across that cafeteria holding this same guitar in your hand. You floated like an angel across that miserable place like you were carrying a basket of manna to satisfy my hunger for music. Your smile was contagious. You were so beautiful back then, and even more so now. But you are so much more than just a pretty face.” He grazed his fingers across the chords, sucking a breath as if he had prepared a speech.
He continued with a smile on his face. “You have a heart of gold. I love how thoughtful you are, how caring. I love the way you want to help people. I love how you make me want to be a better person. You give me confidence and make me feel special, but it’s more than just the way you make me feel. I love how you inspire me, how you teach me to enjoy life, how you encourage me to reach for the stars. I love you for showing me how to give love and how to accept love—even after all I’ve been through. I love me when I’m with you.”