“Dean. Please take me to Lirio.”
A tiny spark lit up behind his sad eyes. “I waited there for two hours. I sat in the restaurant by myself, waiting for the door to open. You never showed up and it’s too late to go back now.”
I could visualize him there perfectly, that glimmer of hope in his eyes. He’d thought I’d show. What had it felt like to put the food away in the fridge after waiting there alone for two hours? I wanted to wrap my arms around him and make it up to him, but I knew he would pull away. We didn’t work like normal people. We were stubborn and proud.
I knew I had to work for his forgiveness, so I took a step back and then felt for the hand railing on his stoop. I used it to guide me down the steps backward. All the while, he stood in his doorway, on the precipice of shutting me out of his life for good.
I kept walking backward, keeping my eyes on him until I was in the middle of the sidewalk. Then, I flung my arms out to my side and yelled at the top of my lungs, “I’m sorry! I’m SORRY! DO YOU HEAR ME NEW YORK CITY?!” I twisted around in a circle and yelled out to the houses around me.
“I stood up a wonderful man and I’M SORRRRYYYYYY!”
A car alarm went off a few streets over and I swore I heard a cat screech with annoyance down the block.
I stopped twirling and dropped my hands back to my sides, facing Dean with absolute abandon.
“I’m sorry,” I said, one last time, just for him. It was sincere and real and it was the best I could do.
We stood frozen, staring at one another. He kept his position in the doorway and I stayed outside, giving him space. I thought he’d turn and walk. After everything we’d put each other through, the odds of him loving me the way I loved him weren’t in my favor.
“Please,” I said, trying to convince him.
He inhaled a deep breath, shook his head, and then he held up a finger. “Lirio’s closed, but luckily, I know the owner.”
…
We didn’t speak the entire walk to the restaurant, and we tried our hardest not to look at one another. Every so often, I felt his eyes on me and I’d turn to face him. He’d glance away and I’d be left with a view of his profile, so achingly beautiful that I couldn’t help but stare for a moment. Halfway there, I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“I see you watching me,” he said.
“Look, I know we're still testing the waters here, and you’re doing me a big favor by agreeing to go with me, but…I ran all the way to your apartment in mismatched flip-flops and my feet are basically two giant blisters right now. Would you mind giving me a piggyback ride?”
He laughed and turned so I could hop onto his back. My feet thanked me the second I was off the ground.
“Better?" he asked.
I smiled. “Much.”
His grip tightened around my thighs and he carried me until we reached the restaurant.
The photo on the blog must have been recent because the windows of the restaurant were still taped up and the facade still lacked its finishing touches. The brick was painted black and the building was dark, but the streetlights illuminated a thin plastic banner hanging just above the door. Lirio was spelled across it in black scrolling letters.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, sliding my gaze to him.
He brushed off my compliment. “It’s not done yet.”
“Well, I love it already.”
His smile hit me full force when he turned to me. “Me too.”
“Did you taste the food earlier? When Antonio was here?”
He shook his head.
“Come on. Let’s heat it up and try it.”
“It won’t be nearly as good,” he said.
It was.
Of course Antonio would have plated the food with pretty details, but we managed just fine. The dishes were delicious, full of complex flavors that I had to sit and mull over as I chewed each bite. Dean and I fought each other for each morsel until the very end and even then, I still wanted more.
“Here,” he said, holding out his fork with the last bite of our dessert resting on top.
I smile and leaned forward, letting him feed me. The cheesecake tart with fresh blueberries was the perfect ending to the meal. The creamy texture rolled over my tongue and I let a soft moan escape my mouth.
“It’s exactly what I wanted,” I said, waving my hand over the empty plates and bowls. “This is the kind of meal I was expecting in Vegas.”
He nodded, watching me over the kitchen island.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier,” I said, broaching the subject I’d avoided throughout dinner.
He dropped his fork onto his empty plate and met my gaze. “A part of me knew you wouldn’t show up.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone had treated me the way I’d treated you, I wouldn’t have given them another chance either.”
“Is that what you wanted? A second chance?”
He wet his bottom lip and for a few seconds, I wasn’t sure he’d even answer.