Page 19 of The Vow

“You smell nice,” she said.

“Um... thank you.”

“Okay, Pip, let’s get this over with.” With those words, Alex made the world spin faster.

The waiter delivered our appetizers and excused himself for interrupting. Exactly what he was interrupting I wasn’t sure, because I asked her, “What do you mean?”

“The reason we’re here.”

“We’re here to have dinner.”

“That’s it?”

“I thought it would inspire the story if you got to know me better.”

Perry Como serenaded us with a love song. She grew quiet. I was still contemplating her statement while her eyes darted around our table. “I don’t have a spoon for the noodles.”

“What did you call them?”

“Noodles. The linguini.”

“It’s pasta. Not noodles.”

“Who are you? The language police?”

“No. It’s simply the correct way to say it. Like eggs.”

“You mean eggs.”

She was driving me mad, but in the best way possible. “No, eggs. Like how Fonzie says, ‘Ayyyy.’’

“No,” she said, laughing. “Eggs rhymes with ‘beg.’”

“Wait. Are you American? You said your parents live in Florida.”

“I’m not. They just wanted to get as far away from here as possible. How’s the salad?”

She wore a sad expression, but I chose not to focus on it. I only wanted to make her smile and fix whatever was broken. “Delicious. This place only uses vinegar from Modena. How’s the Arancini?”

“Not bad. I like the gooey cheese inside. Would you like a bite?”

“Thanks, but I’m supposed to watch what I eat.”

“But you’re drinking wine!”

Her laughter made my lonely heart swell. “It’s in my veins. I drank wine before I could eat solid food.” Leaning across the table, I added, “It’s our little secret, though.”

“My lips are sealed,” she said, causing me to stare at her heart-shaped mouth.

“Excuse me, miss. What would you like for your starter course?”

“The noodles,” Alex said, looking directly at me. The family of three was leaving. Even a five-year-old kid was better behaved than my dinner companion. The little girl wore a sparkly headband. She stopped and placed one finger on her chin, contemplating if Alex should be her new best friend. She skipped away, but not without another glance in our direction.

“You mean the Linguini?” Vito asked her.

“Yes.”

“I understand. Grazie.”