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“That sounds perfect,” I replied. “Should we order something in?”
Alexander nodded. “Casa D’Oliva has excellent Italian food. We could get takeout?”
At the mention of the restaurant, my eyes lit up. “I’ve been wanting to try that place! I’ve read great reviews online.”
“They have the best lasagna in town. My favorite is the seafood linguine, though.”
“Oooh, that sounds tasty,” I said. “I love a good linguine. Especially with shrimp.” My mouth was watering just thinking about it. “It was dad’s favorite, too,” I added softly. “He’d always order extra garlic bread with it.” I smiled wistfully at the childhood memory.
“You know, instead of takeout, we could eat at Casa D’Oliva,” I suggested, trying to sound casual. “I’d love actually to see the restaurant. And it might be nice to get out of the office for the evening.”
Alexander considered this for a moment before nodding. “You make an excellent point. Why stay cooped up here when we could enjoy an enjoyable meal out?”
He tidied up the table and continued, “It’s been too long since I’ve properly dined at Casa D’Oliva anyway. And it will be a treat to experience it with someone new.”
At his last words, my heart did a little flip. It almost sounded like...a date. But no, I scolded myself; I was reading too much into an innocent dinner invitation.
“Shall we?” Alexander said, gesturing towards the door with an inviting smile. He looked genuinely enthused by the prospect of dinner out together.
“Lead the way!” I said brightly, gathering my things. As we headed out into the evening, I felt a flutter of anticipation in my chest. This impromptu dinner might not be an actual date, butit felt like one. And seeing Alexander’s smile directed my way so warmly made my pulse quicken with possibility.
Chapter 10
The aroma of garlic, tomatoes, and fresh basil washed over me as Alexander and I entered Casa D’Oliva. The owner, Geno, a stout Italian man with a booming voice and an even bigger smile, greeted us warmly.
“Alexander, my friend! It’s been too long,” Geno bellowed, clasping Alexander’s hand. His eyes shifted to me. “And who is this lovely signorina?”
“Geno, meet Etta. She just started working with me at the publishing house,” Alexander said.
Geno grinned. “You are a lucky man to have such a bella donna working for you now!”
I blushed at the unexpected compliment, even though it was a little old-fashioned. I was thrilled nonetheless.
Alexander let out a chuckle. “Yes, I certainly am fortunate to have Etta on board. She’s incredibly talented.”
Geno’s face lit up. “Wonderful! I can tell already by your face she is a breath of fresh air for you.”
I smiled, taking in the welcoming interior of the restaurant. Exposed brick walls were adorned with framed black and white photos of Italy, while strings of tiny lights cast a warm glow over each table. The tantalizing scents of garlic, tomatoes, and fresh basil mingled in the air. Geno led us to a table by the front window overlooking the street, the flickering candles on each tabletop adding to the romantic ambience.
Geno gave Alexander a knowing glance and wink as we settled into the wooden chairs. “I’ll take extra special care of you two tonight,” he said before heading to the kitchen. Alexander and I were here as colleagues, I reminded myself, even if it felt more and more like a date with each passing moment.
Clearing my throat, I said, “So, I’ve got another idea for The Secret Garden of Stars...”
Alexander held up his hand, a small smile playing on his lips. “Etta, we’re outside the office now. No more work talk.”
I let out a soft laugh, my cheeks flushing. He was right - this was supposed to be an escape from today’s grind at the office. Still, it was hard to ignore the growing connection between us. The way Alexander’s eyes lingered on me, the casual brushes of our hands as we reached for the bread basket...it all made my pulse quicken despite my attempts to remain composed.
I took a sip of wine, savoring the rich flavor as I gathered my thoughts. This was all so new and unexpected. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
I smiled, secretly pleased. “Oh, okay then. What should we talk about instead?”
“Tell me about San Francisco. What was life like for you there?” Alexander asked, his blue eyes fixed on me intently.
I wondered momentarily if he was hinting about relationships I may have had there, but I brushed the thought aside. We were just two old friends catching up.
So I launched into stories of my tiny studio apartment, the thrill of reporting for the newspaper, and the endless stimulation of the big city. As I spoke, memories of my time in San Francisco flooded. I could practically smell the aroma of coffee lingering on busy street corners and hear the constant hum of traffic and chatter that was the city’s soundtrack.
I recalled the adrenaline rush I used to get on my way to cover a big story, weaving through crowds with my reporter’s notebook clutched tightly in my hand. The late nights I spent typing up articles in my cramped apartment, fueled by cups of cheap coffee and my determination to make it as a journalist. It hadn’t been an easy road, but even through the challenges and steep learning curves, I loved the vibrancy and sense of purpose.
