‘What time is it?’
‘It’s gone half-eight.’
‘Ugh, I am such a lightweight,’ I say, throwing my head back and staring up at the sky. ‘Huh,’ I say, ‘look.’
Nick looks up and I study the contours of his handsome face.
‘Oh, wow,’ he says, ‘a full moon. No wonder it’s so bright out here. It’s gorgeous.’
You’re gorgeous, I think, marvelling at him marvelling at the moon. Geez, Ireallyneed to stop that. And then it hits me – all these out-of-character shenanigans… not my fault. It’s the full moon.
‘As if,’ I say to myself.
‘What was that?’ Nick asks, lowering his eyes to mine.
‘Nothing,’ I say with a wave. ‘I was blaming the full moon for all the weird shit that’s been happening.’
I purposefully avoid naming the weird shit, because at the top of the list is my crush on Nick that seems to be growing by the hour. Pretty soon, it’ll be so big, I’ll have to give it a name.
He throws me a faux side-eye. ‘Do youreallybelieve in all that?’
‘Hell no,’ I say with a laugh. ‘Too pragmatic.’
This is only partly true. I am a pragmatist when it comes to logistics and schedules – essentially work stuff – but there’s a lot about life that can’t be explained. Like the many coincidences that have led to tonight.
Nick sniggers, staring at me for so long, I worry I have food on my face. I wipe around my mouth, just in case, right as our waiter appears.
‘Caffè? Digestivo?’ he asks as he clears our dessert plates. I look longingly at the flourless chocolate and almond cake that I barely touched.
‘No, grazie,’ I say.
‘Sì, per favore,’ Nick replies at the same time.
The waiter looks between us, Nick’s dessert plate – scraped clean – suspended in the air.
‘Oh, what the hell,’ I say with a roll of my eyes. ‘Sì, per favore,’ I tell the waiter.
‘Ma certo,’ he replies with a warm smile, then leaves us.
‘I thought you were full,’ Nick says, his mouth in a lopsided smirk.
‘But I shouldtryit,’ I retort, sliding the menu nearer to take another look. ‘Nocino – never heard of it.’
‘It’s a walnut liqueur,’ says Nick.
‘How are you so smart about everything?’ I ask.
Hearty laughter shakes his entire body. ‘Pleasecan I bring you home to meet my family? You can be my one-woman PR team.’
‘Dor—’ I stop before I call him adorkfor the millionth time. I really need to expand my vocabulary. I’m also trying not to dwell on the whole home-to-meet-my-family thing.
‘What about your family?’ he asks, focusing the spotlight on me.
‘What would you like to know?’ I lob back.
‘Brothers? Sisters? Are your parents still together?’
‘No siblings. And, yes, my moms are still together.’