But the cost of having her back is losing her all over again when she goes back to her life in Italy. And I need to decide real fucking quick if I can survive that twice in my life.
Chapter ten
Isabelle
I’ll be honest. When I got the text from Willow inviting me to join her and some of the other players’ partners for dinner and drinks tonight, I almost turned her down. I’m already falling in love with the city and frequently catch myself comparing its beauty to Italy’s.
Adding more friends into the mix will only make leaving that much harder.
Especially since Gianni and Paul have already joined ranks with my mother in campaigning for me to consider moving here.
But as I push open the door to the restaurant where Willow said to meet them, I feel my lips curve up. Okay, maybe I am a little excited to meet the other women.
I spy Willow instantly, seated at a table with two other women, who if I had to guess are about the same age as me. One has blonde hair like my own, only hers is up in a high ponytail, and is wearing a casual-looking off-the-shoulder sweater. The other,a redhead, has glasses and looks formal in a buttoned-up blouse, but her smile is warm and easy.
“Isabelle!” Willow stands up, moving around the table to pull me in for a hug that surprises me. We’ve only met a few times, and I didn't realize we were at the hugging stage already, but I’ll take it. “I’m so glad you came. This is Sadie, she’s engaged to Maverick King, who plays third base” — she points to the redhead —“and Lark. Her baby-daddy-slash-husband is Dan Montgomery, the catcher. Ladies, this is Coach Stirling’s new stepdaughter, Isabelle.”
I take a seat between Lark and Sadie and try to mask my grimace. “Just Isabelle is fine. It feels super weird to call myself someone’s stepdaughter.”
“That’s what I said,” Lark exclaims, throwing her hands up. “It is weird. You’re not a kid. He’s not your new dad.”
I shake my head emphatically. “Nope, definitely not.”
“Fine. Moving on. Wine?” Willow lifts the bottle in the middle of the table and I nod. “So, Isabelle. Tell us everything about yourself.”
My brow furrows. “Is this a job interview or dinner?” I quip with a smile to show I’m teasing. They all laugh, but Willow just shrugs unapologetically, clearly still waiting for my answer. “What do you want to know?”
Sadie turns to me. “Don’t mind Willow, she’s nosy. She mentioned you’ve been living in Italy? What’s that like?”
The question makes me smile fondly. “It’s amazing. I never planned on moving there, but it’s easy to fall in love with the country. And my father’s entire family is there, so it’s home in a lot of ways.”
“I’d love to go there someday.” Lark sighs. “When I’m not a milking machine.” She grimaces, then flashes me an apologetic look. “Sorry. TMI. My daughter is only seven months old, so sometimes it feels like all I do is nurse her.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’ve got what feels like dozens of cousins. It seems someone is always pregnant or has a newborn.” I give her a reassuring smile. “I’ve been around breastfeeding mamas, pumping mamas, bottle-feeding mamas and papas. It’s all good.”
“Okay, enough about Lark’s boobs. More about Italy.”
I stifle a laugh. Willow reminds me so much of Maria, it makes me miss my cousin fiercely. I can’t help but feel like she’d fit in perfectly with these women.
“I went there for the first time eight years ago. And without getting into all the dirty details, I ended up staying. My father’s family all lives in the same area in the northern part of the country, close to Venice. My dad’s best friend Vito owns a restaurant and I started working there part time shortly after I decided to move to Italy.” I smile, thinking of the homey, family-style restaurant that is basically my second home. “I love to cook, and now I run the kitchen with him.” It’s a condensed version of my situation, but I don’t know these girls well enough to give them the full version.
“Wait, you’re, like, a chef?” Lark leans forward. “That’s so freaking cool.”
There’s one thing I love talking about more than anything, and it’s food. “Yeah, I’ve always enjoyed cooking. When I first went to Italy, my grandmother and I bonded in the kitchen. She taught me Italian, and I taught her English, while we cooked together. I never thought I’d make it my career, but here we are.”
“Tell me more about Venice,” Sadie interjects, changing the subject. “I’d love to take a canal boat through the city.”
“It’s not quite as magical as you might think.” I chuckle. “Parts of Venice are still lovely, but the touristy bits are crowded and dirty.”
“Sounds like Vancouver at times,” Willow adds. “I love our city, but dang, the shine wears off in February when it’s grey and wet and gross.”
The other women all nod in agreement, and a server shows up with two plates of appetizers they must have ordered before I arrived.
We eat and drink more wine, and the more I get to know the ladies, the more I like them.
When our plates are cleared and we’re each savouring one final glass of wine, Lark turns a mischievous look my way.
“Okay. I have to ask. There’s a rumour going around that you and Kai Yamaki know each other. He must love that you’re a chef now. I swear that guy eats more than anyone else I know. Damn him and his fast metabolism.”
