After we’d wandered and canoodled to our heart’s content, Neil drove me back to Callan and Tarissa’s so I could change for our evening date.
Neil dropped me off with a kiss; I let myself in with the spare key Tarissa had given me that morning.
Had it been the same morning? I could hardly tell, my sense of time felt so altered.
I showered off the day’s sweat and grime, washing my hair and scrubbing my skin. Afterward I spread a clay mask over my face in the hopes that maybe, maybe the sweat and heat wouldn’t cause me to break out.
Once clean and dry, I changed into my trusty Italian black dress. I’d have to write to Letizia about that dress, let her know it’d seen its share of exploits even in such a short time.
She’d be pleased.
As I dried my hair and reapplied my makeup, I wondered again about Neil and the future of our relationship. I’d wanted so badly to live in the moment, but in truth, the moment felt so very overwhelming. A short glance at my phone revealed e-mails about the restaurant, requests for media information, questions or offers from suppliers. I lived in an unbiblical dread over news that my mother had taken a turn for the worse.
But tonight, Neil and I were going on a date, and I tingled with anticipation despite my nerves. I used a heavier line of eyeliner than usual, but stuck with a nude lipstick for practicality’s sake.
I chose cognac-toned heeled sandals, and grabbed a long emerald-green cardigan for protection against aggressive air conditioning. As a finishing touch, I added a beaded amber necklace that my mother had given me two Christmases ago.
The garage door rumbled open beneath me—someone was home. After a last check in the mirror, I grabbed my clutch and headed downstairs.
Tarissa clasped her hand to her heart when she saw me. “That man had better propose to you,” she said before closing her mouth abruptly. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “We still have a lot to figure out,” I said. “I think any marriage talk is a ways out.”
“Neil’s picking you up?”
“He is.”
“Come sit with me in the kitchen. Would you like some tea?”
I almost declined the tea before remembering that Tennessee tea meant sweet, iced tea. “Sure. I’d like that.”
“Neil told us your mom was sick.” Tarissa reached into the cupboard for glasses. “I’m so sorry about that.”
My smile wobbled. “Thanks. I just…with her…” I sank onto one of the kitchen stools. “It’s difficult to make plans right now.”
Tarissa poured the tea and handed me a tall glass. I could see the words behind her eyes, but she remained quiet.
“I’m glad he has you and Callan,” I said. “I’d hate for him to be lonely.”
“Oh, he’s still lonely.” Tarissa perched on the stool next to me and sipped her tea. “He and Callan are good for each other, though. I’m a Memphis girl, but Callan’s from Chicago. He’s had a hard time adjusting to the South, but his friendship with Neil has helped.” She shrugged. “We might move to Chicago someday, but things are good for now.”
“I know Neil appreciates having you both here.”
Tarissa brightened. “You’re so sweet—we enjoy him as well. Now, where’s Neil taking you tonight?”
“Italian.” I took a long drink of my tea. “That’s good tea. I think the name of the restaurant was Amerigo?”
“Ooh, you’ll like it. Get the cheese fritters.”
“Cheese fritters at an Italian restaurant?”
“They’re probably not that Italian,” she admitted, “but so good nobody around here seems to care. They were featured in Bon Appétit magazine.”
“That’s cool. I will remember the cheese fritters.”
A knock sounded at the door, followed by Neil’s voice. “Hello? Juliette?”
“We’re in the kitchen!” Tarissa called back. “Miss Juliette looks mighty pretty.”
The heels of Neil’s shoes sounded on the hardwood floors. I spun on my stool to see his approach. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” he said, finally close enough to brush a short kiss on my lips. “I missed you.”
“I’ll leave the lights on for you,” Tarissa said. “You’ve got your key for when you get back?”
“It’s in my clutch,” I answered. “Thanks for the tea.”
“Anytime! You two go enjoy your dinner, have a little romance in your lives.”
“Callan taking you out tonight?” Neil asked her teasingly.
“As a matter of fact, that’s none of your business,” Tarissa retorted, but from the glimmer in her eyes I suspected they had an evening planned.
She waved us out the door, and we returned to Neil’s car, which he’d left running in the driveway with the A/C on.
“Ready for dinner?” Neil asked, leaning in for a more substantial kiss.
I mentally congratulated myself on the wisdom of the nude lipstick while twining my fingers in his hair.
The key to a great frittata is a very hot pan, because that, my friends, is what makes it fluffy.
—ALINE BROSH MCKENNA
For our evening out, Neil wore tropical-weight wool trousers with a beautiful drape, a striped button-down and a solid tie that brought out the coppery tones of his eyes. Upon our arrival, he retrieved a jacket from the backseat that matched his pants and carried it over his arm into the restaurant.
He looked wonderful; I couldn’t stop looking at him.
While the exterior of the restaurant—a strip mall—didn’t inspire, the interior surprised with dark wood and intimate lighting.
Several couples and families milled, waiting for their tables, but Neil and I were seated immediately at a corner table. Our bench seats met at a perfect ninety-degree angle, allowing us to sit as close as we liked.
Neil chose the lasagna while I elected to try the wild mushroom ravioli—only after placing an order for the cheese fritters—and I picked a bottle of wine I thought would suit them both, a red blend from the Umbria region of Italy.
“In hindsight,” Neil said after the waiter left, “I’ve got a lot of nerve bringing you here after eating with your family in Italy.”
“They’d be happy to hear that. There’s a place for Italian-American food in cuisine, though. Part of the joy of food is seeing it interpreted and reinterpreted around the world. Some of the best French patisseries are actually in Japan.”
Neil raised my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “You look beautiful tonight, did I tell you that?”
“You did. Are you trying to get me off the topic of Japanese patisseries?”
“Never. I think they’re romantic.”
I laughed. “Okay, fine,” I said, clasping his hand with both of mine. “I love you, Neil, and I’m so glad we’re here together. I think you’re even better than a Japanese patisserie.”
“That’s high praise—I’ll take it,” he said, leaning over to kiss me, a real kiss, right there in the restaurant. He pulled away and stroked my cheek with his hand. “I like you even better than Krispy Kreme.”
“I’ll walk with you inside,” Neil said, after pulling into Callan and Tarissa’s driveway later that night.
Callan and Tarissa must have been out for the evening; the house was dark and quiet. With an arm around my waist, Neil walked up the stairs alongside me, staying close by my side until we reached the door to my room.
He brushed hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. “Sleep well, Juliette.”
“Thank you,” I said, “for tonight. It was…actually kinda perfect.”
“I’m glad,” he said, running a soft finger down my cheekbone. A good night kiss, and Neil saw himself to the door.
I lingered in my doorway, hating to see him go, but knowing I needed a full night’s sleep before the following day. A quick wash and brush, and I climbed under the cozy blankets covering Tarissa’s guest bed before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When my phone
rang in the dark, my eyes flew open and I sat bolt upright. I looked around for my phone, finding it on the nightstand.
“Hello?”
“Aunt Juliette?”
“Chloé?”
“Mom just went to the hospital with Grand-mère, and I’m home by myself and I’m scared Grand-mère’s going to die and Mom’s not answering her phone and I didn’t know what to do.”
My heartbeat raced at the news even as I knew I needed to help Chloé calm down. “Where’s your Dad, honey?”
“He’s on a work trip.” The last word came out as a sob.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
“Are you at the hospital too? Could you come get me? Or stay here with me?”
My heart sank. “Oh, honey, I wish I could, but I’m in Memphis right now.”
“Oh.” She hiccupped. “I’m sorry.”
I switched on the lamp next to my bed and glanced at the wall clock. If it was one thirty here, it was eleven thirty for Chloé. She had to be exhausted. “Where are you in your house, sweetie?”
“Kitchen. I came downstairs for the phone.”
“Want to take it someplace comfy? The living room or your bedroom?”
Chloé sniffed. “I guess I could take it back to bed.”
“Snuggle up in bed, tuck your stuffed giraffe under your arm.”
“Okay,” she said a few minutes later. “I’m in bed. I have Giraffi.”
“Good. I haven’t had any calls from your mom or uncles, so I’m guessing that the hospital trip isn’t a huge emergency,” I said, praying for my words to be true. “People with cancer need different medical care than people without, so that can mean more hospital trips.”
“I’m scared she’s gonna die.”
What could I tell her? “Me too. Cancer is scary, there’s no way around it, and we don’t know what the future holds. But,” I added, “we have to pray. Which is hard—I wish my worrying would fix things. I have enough worry to fix all the things, all the time,” I added with a half laugh.
“Can we pray together? Would you pray with me?”
“Of course,” I assured her hastily, feeling guilt for not having suggested it first. We prayed for my mother’s doctors, for her pain, for her safety. We prayed that we would feel less scared. Our words were simple, but as we traded prayers, I could hear Chloé’s breathing regulate and her voice steady.
“Thanks, Aunt Jules,” she said after our final amen. “I kinda wish you were here.”
“Me too, sweetie. When I get back you’ll get the biggest hug.”
“You’ve been traveling a lot.”
“I have,” I said, fighting another stab of guilt. “It’s true. But the restaurant is opening soon, and I’ll be home for a long, long while after that.”
“That’s cool. I like your restaurant.”
“I’m glad.”
“I’d, like, want to go there for prom.”
At her age, I would have been terrified to take my date to the family restaurant. But I loved her lack of self-consciousness as related to her family, and hoped that maybe it would survive the rest of her adolescence. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
“I wish I could talk to my mom,” she said, her voice soft and hesitant.
“The reception at the hospital is terrible, and she may have had to turn her phone off. Did you try your uncles?”
“They’re not answering their phones, either.”
“Want me to call Clementine? I bet she’d go over and hang out with you.”
“No, I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll bet she’s awake. And she’s gotten really good at Bananagrams lately too.”
Silence. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
I very nearly laughed out loud. “Why don’t I call you right back, okay, hon?”
“Okay.”
First I tried to call Sophie, Alex, and Nico, but like Chloé, I couldn’t get through.
So I dialed up Clementine. “What are you doing calling me?” she asked when she picked up. “You’re supposed to be romancing and eating…and sleeping, considering the time over there.”
“I know. Chloé called and woke me up.”
“Everything okay?”
“Nelson’s out of town, Sophie’s at the hospital with my mom, and Chloé’s home alone trying not to wig out. Look, I know it’s late, but any way you could go over there and play Bananagrams or something with her for a bit?”
“Of course. I can take Gigi with me too, if you think she’d like that.”
“Oh, she’d love it.”
“I knew your mom was back in the hospital—Nico left about half an hour ago to meet them.”
“Did he say what happened?”
“He got the call from Alex. It sounded like there was another fever, and they were concerned about a kidney infection, maybe? But I wasn’t on the call, so don’t take my word for it.”
I opened my mouth to ask about the circumstances of Nico being nearby at eleven o’clock but decided instead to focus on the problems at hand.
“Chloé would love some company, I think. Sophie’s phone’s not working, but I’ll send her a text so she knows that you’re there.”
“I’m getting Gigi’s leash right now.”
I released the breath I realized I’d been holding. “Thank you so much, Clementine. I owe you.”
“Nonsense. I’m wearing my shoes, just threw the Bananagrams into my bag.”
“Text me if you need anything?”
“I will. Go back to sleep.”
“Sure,” I said, knowing full well that it’d be at least an hour until I relaxed enough for sleep.
I called Chloé back and told her the plan, though I left out the bit about Gigi—Gigi could be a happy surprise.
Chloé sounded relieved to hear about Clementine, though she tried to cover it up beneath a veil of teenage nonchalance. We said our good nights, and I hung up.
Fully awake, I sent Neil a text letting him know that I needed a later start in the morning. What started out as a short text grew longer as I explained the complexities of the situation, but I hit Send and climbed into bed, forcing my breathing to slow and willing my muscles to unclench.
As I laid in my bed, I fought the guilt in swift, hand-to-hand combat. I should have been there. And yet I’d been able to do what I could from afar.
If only I’d been able to actually talk to one of my siblings. The uncertainty over my mother tied my brain into knots. I tried to breathe deeply, tried to pray, but I felt my psyche spiral deeper and deeper into panic.
I jumped when my phone rang again. This time, I looked at the caller information—Neil.
“I’m so sorry,” I said when I picked up. “I didn’t mean to wake you with my text.”
“Shh, don’t apologize,” he said. “I just wanted to see if you were okay. I figured you were awake.”
Hysterical laughter threatened to burst forth. “Yeah. Pretty sure. I’m just…I can’t get through to anyone. My mom went in for a UTI last week, and it sounds like she’s got a kidney infection.”
“That’s logical,” Neil answered, “but treatable.”
“I…” I only just stopped myself from telling him that I wished I’d been there. Sharing dessert was one thing—sharing guilt another. Neil didn’t need that. “I’m worried about my mom. And I’m worried about Chloé.”
“And you wish you could be there for them,” Neil finished on my behalf.
“It’s complicated. I’m just…Chloé was really frightened. I haven’t heard her that upset since she got lost at Rose Parade years ago. But”—I took a deep breath to calm myself, though the more deep breaths I took the more lightheaded I felt—“she’s playing Bananagrams with Clementine. Clementine really is amazing. Chloé’s in good hands. And Gigi’s there too, so for tonight at least, she’s taken care of.”
“What about you?”
“Pardon?”
“Want me to come over? I don’t have Bananagrams, but I’ve got a de
ck of cards around here somewhere. We can play that game of Go Fish you mentioned.”
“You’re sweet. I’ll be fine, Neil,” I lied. “I’ll be okay.”
“Promise?”
I left the line silent enough that Neil made up his mind. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” I breathed.
When we both hung up, I rose and exchanged my sleep camisole for a proper bra and sweatshirt.
Neil arrived scant minutes later. How close did he live? I’d find out later. For now, I settled for being held in his arms.
He led me downstairs to the den. “I found the playing cards,” he said, “but we could also watch Doctor Who on Netflix.”
“Oh,” I said, “truthfully, I’m not sure I have the brainpower for cards. Not even Go Fish.”
“Who it is,” he said.
Five minutes later we were snuggled up on the couch beneath the throw, his arm around my shoulders, my head against his chest.
We sat together, watching the TARDIS careen through space, time, and opening credits text.
I fell asleep seconds later.
Light streamed into the den windows when I next opened my eyes. A second’s worth of contemplation reminded me how I’d wound up on the couch, and why Neil was still asleep next to me.
I couldn’t help but smile at him. His head rested on the back cushion of the sofa, listing slightly to the side. He looked adorable.
The clock on the entertainment system read 6:42 a.m. So much for my attempt at sleeping in. Despite the unusual night, I felt surprisingly refreshed. But then—I’d spent half of it curled up with Neil.
As if he knew I’d been thinking of him, he sighed in his sleep before his head lolled to the opposite side.
I stood and stretched gently, testing my muscles for hidden aches. Finding none, I tugged my sweatshirt down before heading to the kitchen to rummage for breakfast.
Inside Tarissa’s fridge I found plenty to work with—fresh eggs, jarred roasted red peppers, fresh spinach, potatoes, and a stray onion hiding in the corner.
I turned on the oven and hunted around for equipment.
Reservations for Two Page 18
