At the top, we’re alone. The two of us above the rooftops as the sun pours gold flakes across the city.
But it’s not the view that has me spellbound. It’s Jackie.
Leaning against the pale marble arch, she’s effortlessly beautiful. She glows in the last light of day, smiling, hair haloed by the breeze.
I slowly pull out my phone and take a picture. This one is going on my desk.
It feels nearly sacrilegious to pull her away, but we’re cutting it close for the dinner reservation.
The small-town boy in me is still awestruck every time I step into places like this. Even now, when the glass elevator glides up the tallest palazzo in Venice, I catch myself doubting I belong.
The white-gloved attendant, rigid in his burgundy uniform, pulls the lever, and the gate opens onto a marble terrace bathed in amber light.
Jackie reaches out, hooking her pinkie around mine. Her gaze locks on me, intense and scorching. Then another finger joins, then another, until we’re anchored to each other as we step beneath cream-colored canopies fluttering in the evening breeze.
“I’ll have to keep my mouth shut about this place,” Jackie says at last, her voice quiet as she gazes out over the shimmering lagoon, stretching out endlessly below. “Eliza’s going to kill Carter for making her miss this.”
A sheen of heat clings to Jackie’s skin, the August humidity finally catching up with us. But she’s radiant.
I can’t bring myself to regret this moment with her. “I’m sure Carter will make it up to her,” I say, the corners of my mouth twitching. “One way or another.”
Her expression tips up, mock annoyed. “Oh, shut up.”
“Buona sera.” The waiter emerges next to the table. “Are you ready to order?”
Jackie agrees to the wine pairing with her seafood.
“And for you, sir? We have a—”
A glass of red wine wouldn’t kill me, but I smile politely at him. “A local soda will do.”
She falters. “Then lemonade for me, too.”
“You don’t have to change your order,” I chuckle. “You can drink in front of me, I’m not in rehab. Just…” I swipe a hand through my hair, letting out a breath. “Took a break. I went a little too hard for a while. It stopped working for me.”
Drinking and pretending I was happy, because I was laughing. The hard liquor burning through memories like old photos turned to ash in a fire. It was stupid. And only temporary.
“I’m sorry I mocked you that night at the boathouse,” she murmurs.
She’d been furious, lashing out. “That’s not what I remember about that night.”
Jackie swallows, reaching for the edge of the tablecloth, her fingers smoothing it out with a nervous tremble.
Dinner passes smoothly, between good food and unexpectedly normal conversation.
“Don’t your hockey buddies miss you?” Jackie asks.
“During the summer, we don’t meet as often.” I take a bite of the paper-thin slice of prawn carpaccio, the silky sweetness melting on my tongue. “The ones with kids are mostly away once school’s out.”
She hums thoughtfully, spearing a piece of white fish from the wide plate. “Do you imagine doing that, too, at some point?”
“What? Going to Disney World and camping?”
Jackie snickers. “Having kids.”
I set the fork aside and lean back in my chair. “You know I do.”
“Oh,” she murmurs. “That was such a long time ago. Maybe you changed your mind since…” She trails off, leaving the rest unspoken.
