“That it is. Now starts the creative part of the year,” I told Dom. Customers rolled in all summer with little effort on our part. In fact, according to the numbers I’d run last night, this was our best season on record. I’d answered a few emails this week about the Halloween scavenger hunt, and, before Caterina and I were … whatever we were now, she’d found similar opportunities for Thanksgiving and Christmas. She was brilliant and beautiful, and still not speaking to me.
Bella confirmed that she’d dropped off the drive and letter to Caterina yesterday and made sure to stress how sad she seemed. While I didn’t doubt she felt as terrible as I did, at least I’d done something about it. When she let herself go for a little while and gave into what we had without worrying about logistics or what would go wrong, she was perfect.Wewere perfect. If only she stopped being so damn stubborn. I loved her enough to wait and fight, but if she’d already given up, what was I really fighting for?
In an effort to distract myself, I surveyed the lunch crowd. For October, on a weekday, it was still a healthy amount of people. Dad started an investment account for me, and the numbers were in good shape. That used to be all I needed to be happy until a gorgeous Italian girl from Brooklyn strolled into my restaurant looking for something to eat and upended my priorities. Now I neededher, and the more time passed without some kind of a reply, the more of a lost cause it became.
“Joe?” Tommy, one of our waiters, tapped me on the shoulder. “I tried taking a customer’s order, but she’s insisting on speaking to you. She’s at the booth in the corner.” He tilted his chin toward the back and hustled to the next table before I could ask why. I blew out a slow breath and shook my head as I made my way to the corner, stopping in my tracks when I recognized the woman sitting in the booth.
“I’m dying for somemutzadallesticks. Think you could hook me up?” Caterina’s lips spread in a slow smile.
I blinked a couple of times, wondering if this was an illusion brought on by wishful thinking. In the days following her departure, I saw her everywhere, and it had driven me mad. But as I stared at her head on, this wasn’t a sadness-induced mirage. She was here, sitting at the same table as she had that first night she’d stumbled in here looking for an escape. It seemed both like yesterday and a lifetime ago.
She rose from her seat and walked toward where I stood, trying to will my heart back into my chest. She was so beautiful, it was unfair. I’d never stood a chance.
I wanted to scoop her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her, not giving even one fuck about the bustle of customers around me, but we needed to talk first.
She reached out to place her hand on my chest, stilling before her palm settled over my racing heart. “I’m sorry, Joe. I panicked, and I hurt you, and I never,everwanted to do that.” She swallowed and darted her eyes away for a moment. “How I feel about you…it scares me. The two weeks I spent with you were the happiest I’ve ever been, and I was afraid of never having that again.”
She took a deep breath and grabbed my wrist. “I love you. And I don’t care how hard it is. Whether or not I see you once a week or once every six months, I’m yours.” A watery smile stretched her lips before she laced our fingers together and squeezed my hand. “All yours, baby.” Her features hardened before she clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Again, if you could just blink or—”
She squealed as I lifted her by the waist and crushed my lips against hers. I dug my fingers into her hair as I kept my other arm around her waist. After the past few days, afraid I’d lost her, she was back in my arms, and I couldn’t put her down until I was convinced this was really happening, not some dream my lonely mind had conjured because I missed her so damn much. We belonged together, and, now that she was back in my arms, I’d be damn sure to never let her go again.
“Hey, lover boy!” We broke apart as we turned to Dominic’s voice. “Customers, dude.”
Caterina giggled into my neck before I set her down.
“So, you love me?” I whispered before tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“So, so much, Joe.” Her chin quivered as she nodded. “You have no idea how—”
I grabbed her hand and weaved through the tables, pulling her behind me.
“Sorry,” I muttered to a few patrons I recognized. “I haven’t seen my girlfriend in a long time.” I turned my head, searching for a wince at my use of the word girlfriend, but she didn’t flinch.
“Where are we going?” Caterina asked as she tried to keep up with my swift pace out of the restaurant.
“My apartment,” I told her before taking her mouth in another sloppy but grateful-as-all-hell kiss. “I won’t be able to hold back or be quiet.” The corners of my lips twitched when her eyes darkened. “And we both know you can’t.” I looped my thumbs into the waistband of her jeans and yanked her closer, right into the bulge in my pants that was about to break my zipper. “I need inside you…a few times. I’ll owe Dominic for taking the lunch rush.” I nipped at her jaw, loving the way she slumped against me. “And part of the dinner one, too, most likely.” I leaned my forehead against hers. “I love you so much. I’m afraid if I stop touching you, you’ll disappear.”
“Nope.” She blinked away a tear and tried to cover it up with a swipe of the back of her hand. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well,” I slid my hand to the nape of her neck, “you did say you loved me, and that you’re mine. You even called me baby.” I covered her mouth with mine again and grazed my teeth along her bottom lip as I pulled away.
“Get upstairs before I get arrested in front of my own restaurant.” My hand came down on her ass with a loud smack before I opened my front door and pulled her up the stairs with me.
Maybe we didn’t have it all figured out yet. But I knew, without a doubt, nothing would ever be better than this. Better thanus.
43
Caterina
One month later
“He fits in really well!”My cousin Rosa whispered behind me as we peered at the zoo that was our family from the doorway of my mother’s kitchen. Thanksgiving was always a chaotic madhouse, and adding my family chomping at the bit to meet Joe for the first time, the energy had somehow intensified. Although the taste ofanisettemade me want to puke, I let my aunt pour a drop in my coffee to ease my anxiety.
“He’s a tolerant man.” I sipped my coffee, cringing as the taste of licorice assaulted my taste buds each time I swallowed.
“And hot as hell.” She nudged my side. “Nice work. I know I wouldn’t have come home if I’d had a taste of that on vacation.”
“That’s enough, Rosa,” my Aunt Renee scolded from across the kitchen. “Make yourself useful and put these out before we do Cat’s cake.” She handed my cousin a tray of cookies. This was why you never wore pants with buttons on an Italian holiday. We had a round of antipasto before dinner, which consisted of a large tray of lasagna in addition to the turkey, and seven different kinds of dessert, including my plain yellow birthday cake with chocolate frosting.
