"This is so romantic," she breathes.
"It's one of the best restaurants in the city." I settle across from her. "I thought you'd enjoy it."
"I do! I mean, I will! I mean—" She laughs, nervous. "Sorry. I'm babbling."
"It's fine." And weirdly, it is. Her enthusiasm is different from the usual jaded attitudes I deal with.
The waiter appears with menus and the wine list. I order a bottle of Barolo, expensive and classic, perfect for the meal I'm planning.
"And for the lady?" The waiter looks at Liana.
"Oh, um..." She's studying the menu like it's written in code. "What's good?"
"Everything," I say. "But the steak is incredible. It's their signature dish."
She looks up. "How big is it?"
"Substantial." The waiter smiles. "Twenty-four ounces, dry-aged, served with roasted vegetables and—"
"Oh, I can't." Liana sets down her menu. "I'm on a really strict diet right now. Summer body, you know?" She pats her flat stomach. "I'll just have a garden salad. No dressing."
I blink. "A salad?"
"Yes! Just lettuce. Maybe some tomatoes if they have them?" She smiles at the waiter. "No cheese, no croutons, nothing fun. Just greens and a tomato. No dressing either."
The waiter looks at me. I look at her.
"Liana, this is Marconi's. You can get a salad anywhere. At least try something—"
"No, no, I'm being really good about this." She's firm. "I've been eating so badly lately. Time to get back on track. I need to be able to fit into my wedding dress, right?"
"Are you sure?" I'm already mourning the meal I was planning. "We could share something—"
"I'm sure! You get whatever you want, though. Don't let me stop you. Order anything you want!"
I try not to let out a sigh. If she wants to starve herself, that's her choice. I order the steak. Medium-rare, the way it's meant to be eaten.
While we wait, Liana talks. About her charity work. About her friends. About absolutely nothing of substance. Non-stop chatter that goes on and on.
Our food arrives. Her salad is exactly what she ordered, a plate of lettuce and a few sad tomatoes. My steak is a work of art. Twenty-four ounces of perfectly aged beef, charred on the outside, pink in the middle, smelling like heaven. I cut into it, and Liana watches. Stares, actually. Practically drooling over my steak.
"That looks amazing," she says.
"It is." I take a bite. Perfect. "Marconi's doesn't disappoint."
She spears a piece of lettuce. Chews several times. Looks at my steak again.
"Can I have just one bite?" she asks. "Just to try it?"
I pause mid-cut. "You want a bite of my steak."
"Just one! I just want to taste it. See if it's as good as everyone says. I swear, only one bite because I’m on a diet."
It seems harmless enough. "Sure."
I cut a piece and hand her my fork. She takes it, puts it in her mouth, and her eyes actually roll back.
"Oh my god," she moans. "That's incredible."
