Page 18 of The Vow

“Perfetto. And yourself, sir?”

“Wait. I wasn’t done.”

“Oh. My apologies, miss. Please continue.”

“I’ll take the Linguini alla Vodka, the Cioppino... that’s fish stew, right? I remember reading a recipe in Good Housekeeping.”

“Si.”

“I’ll take that, the Bistecca alla Fiorentina cooked rare, and I’ll start with the Arancini. Oh... and the Braciole. No, two. I’d like two orders of Braciole, please.”

The waiter looked horrified, but I fell in love just then. Memories of big Italian dinners made their way to the forefront of my mind. Sitting around the table was less about eating, and more of an event. Over several courses, hearts connected, and I could feel my heart surge with pride. Despite that, I teased her, like me and my cousins used to tease each other at every Sunday feast.

“Hungry?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

“Whatever the lady wants.”

“What would the gentleman like?” the waiter asked.

“I’ll start with the Caprese salad, and the Chicken Potacchio for my entrée. And another bottle of Chianti.”

“Subito, signore.”

“Thank you, Vito.”

“What does ‘subito’ mean?”

“Right away.”

“Gotcha.”

Alex was fiddling with her chain, and then Christ appeared from behind her neck. I didn’t realize that she was wearing her crucifix. I remembered her tattoo, and thought to ask her about it, but instead, I asked, “Have you had rabbit before?”

“I grew up with it. We hunted it ourselves,” she said, draining her glass. “It was a really small town.”

“How small?”

“Small enough that we drove riding lawnmowers to the bar. We figured we wouldn’t get stopped for drinking and driving if the cops thought we were on our way to mow lawns. Did you grow up here?”

“Me and everyone else I know. I have a pretty big family.”

“That must have been nice... never feeling alone.”

“Yeah. We didn’t need therapy. Fighting things out with each other was therapy.” I smiled inwardly because not all fights signify the end. Pop even said that people who vent live longer, and once the bad words evaporate in the air, they’re gone forever.

“Do you see your family often?”

“Sometimes at Christmas. It’s mostly me and ma, now.”

“You didn’t kiss me.”

“Kiss you?”

“Isn’t that how Italians greet people? You didn’t kiss me on both cheeks.”

I decided to assert myself. For the first time outside the ring, I decided to grab life by the throat. “Stand up, Miss Adams.” Kissing her on both cheeks was not like kissing my grandmother. Beneath my lips, I felt the softest skin. Behind the fanciful rhythm of her breath, I heard desire. I had to pull away.