Really. It’s just dinner.
It has nothing to do with the way electricity sparked over my skin when I accidentally brushed against him.
Leon winds down the busy streets of Boston, parking in front of Deuxave to hand the keys over to the valet. I step out of the car as the door is opened for me and head into the restaurant, knowing that Leon and the other security will be making their rounds of the restaurant as we have dinner.
Elio is waiting for me at the hostess stand. He’s wearing dark grey dress pants and a dark green wool sweater, his medium-length dark hair brushed back behind his ears and curlingagainst his neck, and I try to ignore the way my lungs tighten as I see him.
When he sees me, he straightens, and I catch the slight widening of his eyes before he schools his expression back to neutral.
“Annie.” His voice has a slight rasp to it, and shivers run down my spine. “You look beautiful.”
Fuck. Just those three words send warmth blooming through me, my entire body alive from the compliment. I want to hear him say it over and over again, want to hear it with his body pressed against mine, his lips against my ear as he groans it out.
I have to stop this. I draw in a breath, pushing every thought out of my head that isn’t strictly about the business we’re here to discuss, and manage a smile. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself."
“Nice choice,” Elio comments as the hostess leads us to our table, his voice low as if to make sure I know he’s talking only to me. “I’ve never been here, obviously, but I’ve heard about it.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about the fact that I must seem like I’m showing off. I’d wanted to impress him by suggesting one of the best restaurants in the city, but now I wonder if he thinks I’m a bitch for pointing out how accessible this kind of dining has always been for me, while he grew up very differently.
The hostess brings us to a table in a corner, dimly lit with a gorgeous view of the city beyond, glimmering with evening lights. I wince slightly, immediately seeing how romantic this looks, how little this lends itself to actually doing work as we eat. “Is there a more well-lit table?” I ask her, purposefully not looking at Elio as I ask—I don’t want to see the look on his face. If it’s disappointment, I don’t know how I’ll feel, but if it’s relief…
“We’re booked out,” the hostess says regretfully. “But if you’d like to take a seat at the bar and wait for a table to open up, it could be about an hour.”
“No, no.” I shake my head quickly. “This is fine.”
We take a seat, and the hostess hands us menus and wine lists before walking away. I look at the wine list immediately, glancing at Elio.
“Do you have an opinion?”
He shrugs. “I prefer red, but if you’re going to get a bottle, I’m happy to share whatever you’d like.”
“How do you feel about French wine?”
“I’m partial to it.” Elio flashes me a smile, and my stomach erupts in a crowd of fluttering butterflies.
When the waiter appears, I order a bottle of French merlot and sparkling water. We open the menus as the waiter walks off, and I bite my lip, staring down at the descriptions of food rather than looking at Elio.
“Do you remember my Nonna Maria’s restaurant that we used to all go to? You and Ronan and Tristan and I?” His voice ripples over me, full of memory and nostalgia, and I swallow hard.
“I heard she closed it about five years ago.” I can’t look at him. “Something about being too old to deal with health inspectors and impossible customers."
“I was sorry to find that out.” Elio’s voice is soft. “I always loved going there, all of us.”
All of us.Why does part of me wish that he was sayingI always loved going there with you? Why does it bother me that I’m just another O’Malley sibling, just part of our pack that doesn’t exist any longer.
“I miss it too.” I bite my lip, willing the conversation to end. “But things change. They end. That’s the way it is.”
In the corner of my vision, Elio shifts. “She said you were the only person who appreciated her cooking properly." His voice softens. "She asked about you, you know. When I went to see her after I got back."
The thought of his grandmother remembering me, asking about me after all these years, makes something warm unfurl in my chest. Elio didn’t see his family often, after he was sent to be the O’Malley ward, but going to dinner at his grandmother’s restaurant was a way for him to keep a connection to the one person in his family that he loved. "How is she?"
"Good. Stubborn as ever. Still living in the same apartment, still cooking enough food to feed an army even though it's just her now."
I stifle a laugh at that, finally looking up. “That sounds like her.”
“You should go see her sometime.” Elio is looking at me, and I quickly look back down at my menu, unable to meet his eyes. “She’ll want to feed you until you explode, then send you home with enough leftovers for a week."
“I should be so lucky.” I let out a puff of relieved breath as the waiter returns with our wine and a bottle of sparkling water.
