Page 22 of The Vow

“You can cook?”

“I’m Italian. Cooking is...”

“In your veins. I get it,” she said, slurping one long linguine. “I can’t cook. I can’t bake, either. Christ, a woman can at least manage to do one. I suck at both.”

“You’re hilarious.” I meant it. Her sarcasm wasn’t the kind that grated on my nerves. Her wit was refreshing, and she’d fit right in at family dinners.

“I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a comedian.”

“Well, you are hilarious.” I decided to be my father who didn’t let fear of rejection come between him and the woman who eventually set his life on a different path. “You’re also incredibly beautiful.”

I thought I had offended her, but she blushed with gratitude. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“So, Alex? Do you have a love story in you?”

“I hope so. A girl’s gotta eat.”

“Tell me.”

“Now?” she asked, mid-bite.

“Yes. You’re a writer. Can you make up a love story on the spot?”

Something in the air shifted. Her tough exterior wasn’t enough to hide what was festering inside of her, but I couldn’t figure out what made her act like a character from her own novel. We went from playful banter to ominous silence in a matter of seconds.

“Excuse me,” she said without warning. She stood abruptly, as though the restaurant was on fire. “Where’s the restroom?”

“Behind you. Through that archway,” I said, standing with her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. I’ll be right back.”

I wanted to kick myself. On my third-month anniversary date with Anjela, I took her to a nice seafood place, and then to the drive-in. I thought she was enjoying herself, but halfway through the second feature, she offered to get us popcorn, but she never came back and walked the mile home. Later, when I finally managed to get her to speak to me, she told me that she felt I was trying too hard, and that the date felt rehearsed. I had apologized and professed my undying love, but not long after that, she chewed up and spat out my heart.

I’m praying that Alex doesn’t feel like she’s my pet project, that I barely know her and I’m pressuring her, but before I could panic, she returned from the restroom.

“Hi,” I said, pulling her chair out for her.

“Sorry about that.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Our waiter pulled up beside us with a cart full of food. Alex’s eyes grew wide as he placed each dish on the table. The group of businessmen packed their briefcases and left, while the silver-haired couple were leisurely sipping their cocktails, unaware of the time, and unconcerned with their surroundings. Life owed them, and not the other way around.

“I think I’m going to need a doggie-bag.” I had filled her wine glass while she was gone. She finished it in four long gulps. “Have you ever been in love, Phillip?”

My full name sounded strange on her lips. “I believed I was. Once. A long time ago. She betrayed me.”

Alex nodded. I thought she would tell me about her own love life, but instead, she slipped into a fictional world. “Two kids who were deeply in love were married straight out of college. They had nothing. No house, no money. Only a modest apartment, and a lot of shared dreams. They daydreamed about having children... and a puppy. He always said a puppy would make their family complete.”

“More wine?”

She smiled meekly. “Yes, please. One night, the woman felt sick. Her husband offered to go to the drugstore, but since it was pouring outside, she told him no, and that she’d survive. The husband insisted, and because he was so stubborn, so wonderful, and so fucking stubborn, she told him to go, and to hurry.” She paused for a moment.

“Is this a horror story?”

“Yes.”

“I asked for a love story, Alex.”