“Well, I applied to work as an intern for Diamant and got an interview. I’m still in the running for the position, but I’m not sure what will happen. Not a lot of people can afford to work for free, so hopefully that works in my favor.”
“Then why apply?”
“Well, I’ve always loved fashion. I planned on attending university in Milan for fashion, but then my life went to shit.If I get it, I’ll go back to Septime because they’re only open for dinner, just to pay the bills. I’ll eventually get promoted at Diamant…hopefully.”
The deep stare continued like he hung on every word. “And then what?”
“I don’t know. Meet someone and settle down. Have a couple of kids. But before I can turn the page and start a new chapter like that, I have to close the old one.”
“Meaning?”
“I have unfinished business.” Would I be able to start my own family without honoring the people that I lost? My parents? My sisters? The family that was brutally ripped from me? Maybe my father deserved it for being a traitor, but my mother and my sisters certainly didn’t.
He didn’t ask what that meant, like he already knew.
The food arrived a moment later, two crispy galettes stuffed with sauce and meat with fried eggs on top. After eating lasagna three days in a row, I was excited to eat something else for a change. I wasn’t sad to be skipping it when I’d turned off the oven before leaving my apartment. “Wow, this looks good.”
Luca used his knife and fork to slice his into pieces, the egg yolk dripping over the rest of the plate. But he scooped the bites into his mouth quickly, elbows on the table, solely focused on the food and not me. It was as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
Transfixed, I watched him eat and only took a few bites myself because I’d never seen him eat before. “Hungry?” I teased.
“I lifted before I headed over.”
Lifted a car? A tree trunk?
He crossed his arms over his chest and sank back in the chair, watching me eat instead.
“I’m a bit slower than you.”
“I’m in no rush.” He turned and made eye contact with the waiter, who came over a second later. “I’ll take another.”
“Espresso?”
“Galette.”
The waiter left to put the order in.
I cut into my crepe and watched more of the yolk drift across the plate. “Wish I could eat like that.”
“Start lifting and you can.”
“Working out isn’t really my thang, so…”
“Really?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. “You just look like that?”
“Like what?”
His stare hardened on my face.
He didn’t answer, and I continued to eat, feeling self-conscious about shoveling food into my mouth while he stared. He reached for his espresso and finished it. Then he continued to stare as if I was talking when I was just eating and eating and eating. His second galette was eventually delivered, and as with the first, he cut it into pieces and inhaled it like he was still starving. He finished his second before I finished my first.
Then he blurted out a question. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“What?” I asked blankly.
He didn’t repeat the question.
“Uh, no. Last thing on my mind, honestly.” Because I was too busy finding an apartment. Finding a job. Putting my life back together. Feeling the grief for the first time because it was the only chance I’d had the opportunity to truly feel it.
