“On where you take me to dinner,” she giggled, linking her arm through mine. I looked down at her in surprise, at how easy this had been. I didn’t deserve someone half as good as Beatrice. Somehow, God decided to make me a lucky bastard by sending her my way.
“Oh, you’re going to forgive me for sure,” I teased as we moved. “Just wait until you try the tiramisu.”
“It better be good, Pavlov.” She nudged me playfully on the shoulder as I stood by the door to let her pass first.
The restaurant was just down the street. It was a small Italian place, nothing fancy, but cozy with stellar food. The hostess seated us at a corner table, as private as could be.
We both ordered a glass of wine each and a salad to share. While we sipped the wine and dug into the salad, waiting for our mains to arrive, I felt a sudden urge to tell her what had happened earlier today.
She deserved the truth, the whole entirety of it.
“So…I think you were onto something last night,” I said.
“Oh?” The glass stilled on her lips, then she put it down without even taking a sip.
I twisted the napkin on my lap between my fingers. “Dante called me this morning.”
Her eyes widened, and I saw her shoulders tense. “What was he saying?”
“He offered to help get your other brothers to see reason,” I told her. “He said he understood our situation, given what happened between him and Alisa.”
A small smile played on her lips, and she played with the stem of her glass. “I can’t believe Dante called you.”
“He only did because you got us in a room together, you know?” I admitted.
Her face broke out into a grin. “Can you even imagine what would happen if you all had stayed and heard me out? Hell, we might even have started a joint family venture!”
At this, I laughed. A full, hearty, zesty laugh. Beatrice always did have a way of making the distance between us feel smaller.
“So, anyway,” I continued. “He said he’d be willing to talk to the rest of your brothers on our behalf.”
She leaned over the table, resting her chin on her palms. “And what did you say?”
“I said I’d think about it.” I leaned forward too. “What would you want me to say?”
Her eyes met mine in surprise. “You’re asking me what I want?”
“I am.” I held her gaze. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since last night. I’m sorry,” I said in earnest, the words as unfamiliar as they came. “You were only trying to help.”
Our food came just then, and Beatrice averted her gaze, taking her elbows off the table. The server left, and then Beatrice turned to look at me, picking up her fork and knife.
“I’m glad you see that now,” she said. “I think Dante’s offer’s a good one.”
I hadn’t yet decided for sure on the next steps, but felt that calling Dante wasn’t such a bad idea. However, I also didn’t want to raise Bea’s hopes in case I changed my mind later.
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, taking a bite of the potatoes. And that conversation was soon forgotten.
***
When we reached home, we both decided to hit the bed, given how long the day had been. After dinner at that Italian place, we went out for some cocktails.
“So tell me, why exactly did you take me out to dinner again?” she teased as we climbed up the stairs.
“I was coming to find you to apologize when they told me you’d gone out.” I shrugged. “So I followed you.”
“That’s a little stalkerish,” she pointed out with a wink.
“Yeah, I guess, when you put it like that,” I chuckled.
