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Prologue
Emily
Ten Years Ago
“You look very, very pretty,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. He was sitting next to me in this half booth, rather than in the chair facing us, lonely and vacant.
I didn’t mind, though. Who knew the next time he’d be next to me.
He leaned in, sneaking a peck that turns into a torturous kiss, his fingers tracing my jaw. It didn’t matter that the restaurant was full, that our food was cooling because the heat between us was unbearable. All that mattered was that his lips were on mine.
“Where did you come from?” I asked when we pulled apart, my eyes flicking from one corner of his to another.
“La Jolla, California,” he joked, kissing me again. He looked down at my plate of spaghetti and back up at me. “You know what this means?”
“What?”
“We need to Lady and the Tramp this,” he said, picking up a lone noodle to offer me one end. I laughed, and he nuzzled my neck.
“We can’t be that couple,” I said through wheezing giggles.
“Okay, fine.” He kissed me again and pulled me in tighter.
The owner of La Scarola eyed me from the corner. He had known me my entire life—since I was a kid in pigtails to my awkward teenage years of sharp elbows and a mouth full of braces. And in that moment, he got to see me in love for the first time.
Love. Was that what this was?
I’d only known him for a week.
The owner stared us down, and Max froze. He pointed to the chair, and I nodded as he stood up and took the seat across from me. So far away.
“Tell me what your biggest dream is,” he said, stabbing a piece of pasta with his fork.
I spun the spaghetti and took a bite. “You already heard it.”
“Come on, Martini. I love the way you light up when you talk about it. Tell me again.”
“Okay.” I smoothed out my napkin on my lap. This was the fifth time I’d repeated this story, but I couldn’t get enough of how Max listened to me, like he’d do whatever it takes to make it happen.
After one deep breath, I said, “I want to live in a big city. I haven’t decided yet—Chicago, New York, Boston. Nothing on the west coast. I want to go somewhere new. Somewhere completely different.”
Max nodded and took another bite, but those hypnotic blue eyes, icy like Antarctic waters, stayed on me. Ever since we met at the snack bar at Tin Lake, I hadn’t stopped trying to swim in them.
“What else?” he asked, but he knows the rest of the fantasy.
“I will have a nice apartment overlooking the city. In the mornings, I will drink coffee and just watch the city go by on my balcony. My job will be in advertising or marketing and it will be hectic, but I will take a slow morning. Always.”
“And at night?”
“At night, I will grab martinis with friends. With three olives.” This was why he calls me Martini. Goosebumps crawled up my arm every time he said it.
“Because you love olives.”
“I love them. So much.” I patted his hand. “You’ve never told me what your dream is.”
He shook his head. “You’ll think it’s weird.”
I tilted my chin down and looked at him from under my lashes. “Try me.”
