Evangeline
Tendrils of steam floated in the air above my soup. I lifted my spoon and blew across the deep red broth. I poured it into my mouth, and the taste of fresh tomatoes mixed with earthy vegetables exploded on my tongue.
When I came home today, Gian had surprised me with dinner. He’d set the table, complete with flickering candles and placemats. I glanced at Gian across the table. He hadn’t taken a bite of anything.
“The soup is great. Did you cook all this yourself, or did you call your mom for help?”
He lifted the glass of ruby-colored wine to his lips and took a sip. “I might or might not have had Carmela walk me through the steps over the phone.”
“Either way, I’m impressed. You didn’t have to do all this.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. I wanted to cook for you. I couldn’t stand the thought eating takeout again or, worse, eating another can of that soup you have stocked in the pantry like you’re preparing for the end of the world.” He mock shivered.
The past couple of weeks had slipped by with me in a dreamlike state. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy or hopeful. The only way it could improve would be for me to land a part in the production I was auditioning for next week.
In the last week or so, I had buried all the recurrent doubts about my relationship with Gian and convinced myself I was finally on the right path. I told myself it wasn’t too soon to feel this strongly about someone else, and nothing mattered except the way we felt about each other.
Apart from a few minor hiccups, days ran seamlessly from one to the next. I danced and danced until my feet ached, and I practiced lines from the play until I could recite them in my sleep. Even on the nights Gian worked late, he always came home in time to crawl into bed with me.
Sometimes we talked until the early hours of the morning about anything and everything. Our childhood. Dancing. Food. Our families. Our goals. Our dreams. Even though we were still in the early phases of our relationship, I honestly felt as if I knew him better than anyone in the world.
Other times, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We’d stumble to the bed or any horizontal surface, exploring, kissing, moaning, and laughing. While I knew this moment of perfection couldn’t continue indefinitely, I refused to worry about the future. I’d wasted enough of my life worrying, fretting, and planning, and nothing had worked out like I expected. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, or at least that’s what I was starting to believe.
“Hey. It’s not that terrible, and it’s organic.”
“Exactly. Organic and tasteless.”
I took a few more bites of my soup. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”
“I have to work tonight. I won’t be home until late.”
I rested my spoon against the side of my bowl. “What’s late?”
“I don’t know. Three. Maybe four in the morning.”
“Why?”
“There’s a special event at the club, and I need to be there to supervise.”
I lifted my napkin and wiped the corners of my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you from doing your job. Are you going to get in trouble?”
“No. My dad and I own the club together.” Gian tensed, and his jaw flexed. “When he got sick, I took over, and as you can imagine, the day-to-day management is not high on his list of priorities anymore.”
My stomach lurched at the mention of his dad. We’d stopped by to visit every morning before Gian dropped me off at the dance studio. I never knew what to do while Gian holed up in his dad’s room for a good hour. I tried to make myself useful by doing any dishes or starting a load of laundry, except domestic things were never my strong suit, and I secretly wondered if his family wished I stayed away.
Admittedly, the tension between Mrs. Trasatto and me had lessened significantly since my confession, and sometimes, it seemed as if she liked me. She hugged me and kissed both of my cheeks every morning like I was really going to be her daughter-in-law someday. Like she would be happy to have me as a member of her family. An ache bloomed inside my gut, and I rubbed my breastbone, pushing away the thought.
Stay in the present.
“I’m so sorry, Gian.”
“No need to apologize.” He sucked in a deep breath, ridding himself of the sorrow visible in the tense set of his shoulders. “You’ve been wonderful to my family and me over the last few weeks. My mom can’t stop singing your praises. By the way, that’s a big deal because she’s normally pretty stingy with her compliments.”
Some of the tautness lessened in my limbs, and I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you sure about that? Because I thought she was going have a heart attack when I tried to reheat some of her marinara sauce in the microwave.”
He laughed, and his golden eyes looked like twin pools of warm honey. My cheeks heated. “She got over it quickly when she saw how perfectly you folded her laundry.”
I snorted. “I guess all those summers slaving away at the local department store weren’t in vain after all.”
He leaned over and kissed me, loitering there for a few beats. “I need to take off. Call me if you need anything. Do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t include the dishes. I’ll clean up when I get home.”
I looped my arms around his neck and inhaled his intoxicating scent. Like every time I touched him, my anxieties melted away like they never existed in the first place. Gian wanted me. I felt safe with him, both physically and mentally.
I was quickly coming to the conclusion that I wanted to be part of his life as long as he’d let me. Sure, I had tried to keep my feelings for him under wraps—though, I’m pretty sure I lost that battle before I started fighting. As treacherous as it sounded, I liked his arms around me at night. I liked the way my heart doubled in size when he flashed me one of his covert smiles. I liked nearly everything about him.