We stare at each other for a moment, and I decide that it’s time for us to be on the same page. I’m thinking about exactly what to say to her when the server comes back with our food.
I notice the pine nuts before the waiter even sets the plate down.
“Don’t breathe, Tessa.” I turn to the server. “Excuse me. She requested no pine nuts.”
He profusely apologizes before heading back to the kitchen.
Tessa gives a faint whistle. “If I didn’t know you well, I’d say you made a polite request, but your eyes tell a different story. I don’t get allergic reactions from breathing in the air surrounding a nut, just if I ingest it. It’s not a big deal.”
Not a big deal.She’s out of her mind. After seeing her in the hospital, there’s no way I’d take even the slightest chance with her. I don’t even want her to be in the sameroomas a pine nut.
“What if you accidentally ate it? Something could’ve happened to you. Restaurants need to take allergies seriously,” I grumble.
Tessa cocks an eyebrow. “Weren’tyouthe one who said, just last year at the summer staff luncheon, that most people ‘probably didn’t even have allergies’ and were just requesting modifications based on dietary preferences?”
Tilting my chin up, I avoid eye contact. “I don’t recall. Anyway, that was before you.”
She snorts, taking a small sip of her wine. “Esme and Peyton would love this interaction, by the way. They’re always pushing me to send food back when the kitchen gets my order wrong.”
I look up, confused. “What do you do with the food if you don’t send it back?”
Tessa shrugs. “Usually, I just pretend to eat it or switch with one of them so I don’t have to bother the staff.”
Slowly setting down my fork, I ask, “What do you mean bypretend?”
“I kind of just, like, pour the dressing on the salad and move the leaves around a little so they won’t be offended.”
I roll my eyes at this frustrating woman. “For fuck’s sake. Enough with the pretending.”
“That’s kind of rich, coming from the King of Pretending… the Czar of Pretend Land… the Mayor of Pretendington, the?—”
“I’m done pretending. And I’vebeendone pretending. For a while now.”
She leans back. “What do you mean bya while?”
I place my hand on hers. “The ‘pretend’ part of our relationship left the house a long time ago.” My voice comes out thick with emotion I can’t contain.
“The phrase isleft the building,” she whispers.
“I don’t care whatever-the-fuck it is, Tessa,” I reply quietly.
She shifts in her seat. “You can’t really blame me when you’ve never actually said the words. That this isn’t pretend. That this is real.”
“This hasn’t beenpretendsince I heard you tell my mother you loved her home in an objectively terrible Italian accent.” The words fall out between heavy breaths.
She inhales sharply and brings her hand to her mouth. Suddenly, I’m wishing we were anywhere but here. Someplace else, more private, where I could capture her gasps with my tongue.
“I wanted it to be real in Brescia, Gio.” Her eyes are wide, sincere. “I wantedusto be real so badly.”
“It was real in Italy. And it’s real now. Maybe it’s been real for longer than either of us wants to admit.”
Tessa inches closer to me, drawing me in. And suddenly, I don’t care that we’re in public. The world has narrowed to only the woman in front of me. I gaze at her for a moment in this light, soaking in the view. The blue of her dress against the deep tan of her skin. The moonbeams kissing her hair. The feel of her hand in mine. Taking a mental picture, I hope that years from now I’ll still see it.
Her bright eyes search mine. “What?”
“Nothing…” I trail off. “I just don’t want to forget this.”
Tessa glances at the doors of the restaurant. “How soon can we get out of here without being rude?”
