I stareat myself in the glass pane of the restaurant and wonder who is the woman staring back at me. I’m wearing a new blood red wrap dress that clings to my curves, conceals my pouch, and showcases just the right amount of cleavage. I spent way too much money on it, but it accentuates all my attributes and hides most of the flaws. I paired it with favorite black leather boots and a simple YSL clutch to dress it down because while I wanted to look good, I also didn’t want to look as if I was trying too hard.
I’m going on a blind date with a man who has probably paid handsomely to meet the woman of his dreams. I feel like a fraud. I’m not the least bit interested in dating someone new, but every moment I spend doing something that I wouldn’t have normally done when I was with Troy is a win for me. It feels like a victory.
I’ll admit I was a little apprehensive about going through with this evening. It all seems very unnatural. All I know is that I’m meeting someone named John, and he picked the place for the first date. I get to pick the place for the second date if there even will be a second one. We’re meeting at some place called Piccolo Fiume, a restaurant I never heard of. It’s a small Italian eatery tucked away on a narrow street in the heart of the meatpacking district. They don’t even have a website. The only thing that makes me feel a little better about it is that Caroline promised that she has an entire file on John down to his underwear brand and that I’ll be completely safe.
I take a deep breath to settle my nerves and open the door. As soon as I walk into the restaurant I am assaulted with the aroma of fresh garlic, capers and oregano. It smells delicious and immediately I’m assured that if nothing else, I’m going to get a good meal out of this.
I’m greeted by a jovial man with a head full of beautiful silver hair and olive skin.
“Welcome to Piccolo Fiume. Do you have a reservation?”
The restaurant is full. There are patrons seated at every table, and not one of them is occupied by a single man. Did he even show up?
“I’m meeting someone.”
“Are you meeting a gentleman named John?”
“I am.”
“Right this way, Signorina.”
We walk alongside a painted mural of what I assume is an Italian landscape until we reach a narrow staircase.
“Watch your step.”
As we climb the staircase, I grow even more nervous, so I begin to ramble.
“The food smells so delicious here. Are there any specialties you think I should try?”
“We make the best veal in the city. The veal piccata is my great-grandmother’s recipe from the old country.”
“You’re the owner?”
“Yes, Signorina, for thirty years.”
“You’ve been here for thirty years?”
“We’ve been in business a total of thirty and we’ve been at this location for fifteen of them.”
Wow, my city never ceases to surprise me.
“I hope you enjoy your meal, Signorina. We pride ourselves on the freshness of our food and our service. Here’s your table.” The owner grins as he nods at me and turns to leave. “Your server will be with you shortly.”
My date is waiting at the table, and the moment we lock eyes, my stomach drops.
This is not someone named Johnathan.
It’s Jason.
Jason from The Wild Boar.
And he looks like he just had a million-dollar makeover.
He’s dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans, a crisp white shirt, and a modern black leather jacket on top that looks like it cost more than everything I have on. The hair on his head is shorn low, but the beard on his face has grown somewhat in a week’s time.
He looks panty-dropping hot.
“This has to be fate,” he says with a grin so wide I can’t help but smile back. I think he’s just as surprised to see me too.
