“Yes. It would be ours,” I say.
“Are you... are you sure?”
“Why should I take all the financial risk?” I say with a grin.
“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head. “Fuck DeLuca’s. Olive. Are you really sure?”
I take a deep breath, and I nod. “Yes,” I say, wiping my mouth with the paper napkin. “It’s time for a fresh start for us both, Leo.”
“Okay,” he says, folding his arms.
“But I’m nervous. I want to make sure we have time away from here, that this is our work, and that we love it, but that we nurture the side of our lives that isn’t inside these walls. I want to make sure I’m not overwhelmed by you because you’re the chef. You need to listen to me, and to take my concerns seriously. You’re not the star of the show.”
Leo knows better than to laugh. He nods, a genuine smile on his face.
“And if I tell you one day I want out, you need to listen to that.”
“I will,” he says. “And I have a few conditions too.”
I snap my head up and smile at him. “You do?”
“It’s going to be hard,” he says. “And at times it might feel overwhelming. And I’m going to need you to accept that we won’t get everything right.”
“You’re worried I’m going to be too tough to work with?” I say, my eyes flicking to the ceiling.
“Something like that,” he says, laughing. “Go easy on me, okay?”
“Only if you keep to my exacting standards,” I say, and Leo laughs.“But seriously, Leo, I’m opening my heart to this, and all the anxieties that come with it. We’re in it together, okay?”
Leo nods. “I am so fucking happy, I can’t...” He looks at me, square in the eye. “I would have been happy if you’d sold it too.”
“Liar,” I say. “But I know you would have accepted it.”
Leo stands up and points to a large folder sitting on the bar. It’s heavy and canvas, an architect’s folder. “I have some plans. Based on your feedback.”
“What is this?” I say, seeing Ginny’s firm’s initials in the corner of the folder.
“It’s the new interior ideas.” He moves his finger across the plans, pointing to each of the features. “The focus is on vibrant, classical Italian dining. With the big-ass bar still in place.”
“No, I mean... you spoke to Ginny?” I say.
“It was a happy accident,” he says. “I called her firm, they’re literally around the corner. Anyway, I asked them to put together some preliminary ideas for me. So that I could engage them if we got the investor excited.”
“They put you through to Ginny?”
“Yes,” he says. “It was a pretty awkward conversation, as far as they go.”
“That fucker never told me,” I say, laughing.
“Well, she’s very professional,” he says. “And also, she said she would do it as a favor to help you... what did she say? Hmm. That’s right... ‘come to your senses and follow your destiny.’”
“That sounds like Ginny.” I laugh.
Leo turns a page and taps the plans, showing a rough design of the menu. A single, elegant page. “PASTA @ NICKY’S. Polished and elevated Italian food.”
“Deconstructed Scotch egg tagliatelle?” I say, grinning. Tagliatelle with Italian sausage,egg, and pecorino sauce, topped with garlic breadcrumbs. I’m not sold, but as with everything, Leo and I will find a perfect compromise.
“There’s room to talk,” he says, laughing. “I figured I’d start in the clouds and we could meet somewhere in the middle.”
