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“Sorry for sounding like such a lunatic,” I tell Jack, closing my messages. “You’re right, it can wait until I’m home or at least until after dinner.” I try to add, but the sound of thunder is so loud it drowns me out.
I jump involuntarily and Jack replies by pulling me in even closer.
“Let’s just get to the restaurant, huh?” he says, trying to sound cheerful but the sudden change in the weather, followed by a torrent of heavy rain out of nowhere adds a new element to everything I’m feeling.
The perfect day so far is suddenly filled with dread.
Chapter Twelve
Jack
The restaurant’s right next to the lobby of the Oberon Hotel. Like the restaurant, it’s steeped in history and one of the city’s finest since being fully restored.
“Here we are,” I announce as the limo pulls up. A doorman in waterproofs has a huge umbrella waiting for us and helps us get from the street to the maître d' in one piece, bearing the brunt of the sudden violent turn in the weather for us.
“Pecorino?” Olivia asks, reading the neon sign from inside and making me chuckle as she shivers. “Isn’t that a cheese?”
“Don’t let the name fool you,” I promise her. “This is Italian food as you’ve never imagined it.”
I eat here as often as I can when I’m in town, and the owner is a fan who always makes sure I can get a table, even in a storm like this, walking in off the street like we have.
Not a shitty table either. Mario keeps his best tables empty, for occasions just like this.
Having Hollywood walk into your restaurant where everyone can see them eating is very good for business.
There’s never a menu at Pecorino’s. A wine list for those who want it, sure. But the menu is usually a choice of a half dozen or so dishes that change each day, depending on the produce bought that day or how the chef is feeling inspired.
Once Mario sees I have company, there’s no point trying to convince him of anything less than all four courses for us to share.
“So glad to see you again, Jack. This storm eh? Antonio, he tells me this morning, a storm is coming and he has the perfect dishes to warm your bones…”
I give him our thanks and he personally takes Olivia’s coat, treating her just like he would any other Hollywood celebrity.
There are more than a few stares towards our table, all of them wondering the same thing.
Who is Jack Mercury’s new and mysterious lady friend?
I wonder if Olivia herself should pen the article over dinner.
But what I have in mind might not be something she’d be able to have published in a newspaper let alone get out in a public restaurant.
The restaurant is warm, and once the interest in us dies down I can fully appreciate my girl in the soft light of our table, her eyes sparkling as she tries her best to hang on to worry and doubt.
“What about our plane?” she asks, looking more relaxed but sounding like she has to worry about something, even if it’s only out of habit.
“We might be stuck here,” I venture. Not meaning to worry her even more.
Quite the opposite.
I also keep a suite at the hotel here when I’m in town. Getting a room should be as easy as our dinner table.
She wants to fret and startup about her boss again, but I really mean it I don’t want her to worry anymore.
“I meant it when I said you are mine, Olivia,” I tell her truthfully.
“Sealed with a kiss, we can go as fast or slow as you want,” I add, her eyes growing wide again, her pupils dilating as she picks up on exactly what I’m talking about.
Our first course arrives, with two plates so we can share. Olivia’s never looked more beautiful to me, never seemed so innocent either.
I wonder if I’m not overdoing it but the truth be told, I really am just being myself.
I’ve never had anyone to spoil or dote on. Today doesn’t seem so farfetched. If anything, I can think of a dozen things we could have done differently if I was really setting out to spoil Olivia.
Things I hope I still get to do.
Things I know we’ll do together.
“I hope you like pasta,” I tell her, smiling. Knowing there’ll be more coming after this. Relieved when she makes a hungry face.
“I love pasta, it’s my true weakness,” she groans between bites, trying to blow on her food but wanting to eat it more at the same time.
She’s ticked every box so far. There’s nothing I don’t love about Olivia.
“How do you do it?” she asks me, fanning herself with her hand as she finally yields to waiting for the food to cool a little.
I raise my brow in a question.
