I roll my eyes and quietly laugh at Delaney’s antics. We text about my fictitious Kardashian level wedding for the whole car ride to the restaurant. We pull up to Copertina, and Eddie comes around to open my door for me. I say a quick thank you and head towards the door, happy to be in wedges instead of heels on the cobblestone again.
“Hello, Celeste,” a deep, gravely voice looms over me. I smile.
“Oh hi, Andre. I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” I say.
“Every evening,” he says. A man of many words.
“Did you catch Les Mis at the theatre in the city? I think they just started a few weeks ago.”
Andre cracks what I’m sure is a very rare smile. “I had opening day orchestra tickets.” His happiness is so genuine it makes my smile grow.
What a big softy.
I nod in acknowledgment and move to step inside the dimly lit foyer when a big hand lands my shoulder. I turn to see Andre, smile gone, already replaced with a menacing grimace.
“Remember, Cynar,” he grunts, then immediately turns back towards the parking lot standing sentry as if we never had a conversation at all.
I follow a hostess to the table, yet again, in front of the kitchen. I thank her and tentatively glance toward the glass. Chef Angelo has his arms crossed, staring me down already. I quickly turn and pray that Jude isn’t vegan.Now that I think about it…I look around and realize he’s not here yet. Oh, well. No big deal, I can wait a little bit.
“Hello, my name is Lorenzo. I’ll be your server for this evening. Are we dining alone or waiting on someone?” a very charismatic middle-aged man with a bald head and thick black rimmed glasses asks, glancing over the empty chair across from me.
“Hi! Yes, I’m waiting on my date. He should be here any minute.” I give Lorenzo a reassuring smile. He nods and pulls out two menus, passing one to me and one to the empty chair before excusing himself. I discreetly pull out my phone and send Jude a text to let him know I’m here. He responds immediately saying he’ll be here soon and to go ahead and order a drink for myself while I wait.
I grimace, I don’tlovewaiting alone. I feel people’s eyes on me, wondering if I’m going to be stood up. I shake it off, push back my shoulders and actsounbothered as if I dine alone frequently. Lorenzo comes by to collect my drink order: a small glass of red wine that I will nurse all night.
I take my time to look around, noticing couples cozying up together in booths, clinking glasses in celebration of one occasion or another. I spot one couple actually sharing a spaghetti noodle à laLady and the Tramp. I bite my lip to holdin my laugh. It’s cute in theory, but I find the notion of sharing food that close to someone else’s mouth kind of gross. I sip my wine and listen to the soft classical music playing in the dining area.
I check my phone again and see no further texts from Jude even though almost fifteen minutes have passed since he told me he’d be coming. I take a grounding breath. Some of that time is allotted for travel, and there might be traffic; it happens.
Lorenzo comes back around with a more tentative smile. “Still waiting on someone?” he asks gently, but pointedly. I try not to let it get to me.
I wave my phone a little. “He said he’s on his way,” I offer.
Lorenzo’s smile never dips, “I’m sure he is.” He refills my water glass with a flourish and saunters away.
Another fifteen minutes go by and without something to eat or do with my hands I’ve had about two-thirds of my wine already. I sigh a little louder than expected but turn when I hear someone walking up behind me. A big hand falls on my shoulder. Big, but not as giant as Andre’s.
“I’m so glad you waited for me.” Jude’s low voice sounds next to my ear. The heat of his breath sends a little shiver down my back distracting me, but not enough to totally dissuade my annoyance. He swings around, placing himself in his seat with a big movie star grin on his face. Lorenzo immediately pops up out of nowhere and fills Jude’s water.
“My father’s clients wouldn’t settle over a debate we’ve been at for days.” He shakes his head as if I know anything about his father or what business he does. I nod along anyway.
“Lorenzo! My favourite server, I’ll have my usual. Celly?” He looks up at me and suddenly I’m flustered having not gone over the menu in my alone time.
“Um…” I flip through the two page spread, quickly reading over the pasta dishes. I spare a glance up to Lorenzo’s waitingexpression, “I’m sorry,” I look down and select the first thing I see off the menu, “I’ll have the risotto, please,” I say quickly, handing my menu to Lorenzo’s extended hand.
“Everything will be out shortly, Mr. Havenston,” Lorenzo croons, before whisking away to the kitchen.
“So,Mr. Havenston,I have to say I—” I start, but Jude cuts me off.
“You look gorgeous this evening, by the way,” he drawls, taking a long sip from a glass of wine I didn’t even see him receive. I look down at my pink dress. A V-neckline shows off my mediocre cleavage with a delicate scalloped edge. The skirt flares out slightly and I smooth my hands over the thin material.
“Thank you. You look great yourself,” I say looking over his attire. A fitted suit, no doubt custom made, showing off his toned physique. His blond hair looks straight out of a glossy magazine cover.
“Thanks, it’s my favourite Armani,” he says, his tone less smooth and more braggy. Whatever. If I had Armani, I guess I’d show it off too. He rambles on for several minutes, dropping more designer names, like Prada and Louis Vuitton, then glances at me to check my reaction to his clothing preferences. In my humbly poor opinion, if you can afford it, buy whatever you want. However,I’m more impressed with someone who has great taste in food rather than designer labels.
“So what is your usual order?” I ask, but before he can answer, our meals are placed before us, piping hot. My eyes shift to Chef Angelo who’s smiling and waving to Jude.
“Do you know him?” I ask.
