“I took it for granted as a kid. But in my early teens, I started to appreciate the city’s uniqueness—the way the modern world and the ancient wove together to make up the fabric of Rome. I also learned to like the tourists, believe it or not. Sure, they could be loud, entitled, and obnoxious. But I enjoyed sitting in front of the Colosseum when the guided tours would come through.”
He took another sip of wine and continued, “I loved listening to the tour guides, because I desperately wanted to travel back then. I thought I wanted that more than anything. Since I grew up poor, getting to see the world seemed like an impossible dream. But I could close my eyes and daydream as I listened to the guides reciting the same facts, over and over again in French, German, English, Japanese. I loved hearing all those languages being spoken. I thought that might be the closest I’d ever get to traveling.”
I finished my piece of cheese and smiled at him. “But you did it! You ended up getting to travel all over the world.”
I didn’t expect him to suddenly look devastated. He murmured, “It came at too high a price. My parents died in a car crash when I was fifteen. I got to travel because my uncle took me abroad after that. If I could…”
His voice wavered. He closed his eyes and took a breath before starting again. “If I could have one wish, I’d choose more time with my parents—staying in that tiny apartment with them and never going anywhere. I’d choose that a million times over.”
I whispered, “I’m so sorry, Tory.”
He opened his eyes and tried to smile. “Next time you ask for a story, I’m going with a lie. The truth is much too hard sometimes.”
“It really is,” I said softly.
“It’s getting late. I know you’re tired, so I should let you go.”
“Okay.” I tried to smile too, even though my heart was aching after what he’d told me. “Thanks for convincing me to come home and sleep in my own bed.”
“Thank you for actually listening to me and taking care of yourself.” He kissed two fingertips and touched them to his screen. “Good night, Arie.”
“Good night, Tory.”
After we ended the call, I curled up under the covers and hugged a pillow to my chest. The comforting scent of his cologne lingered faintly on my wrist. I breathed it in and closed my eyes.
Even though I was tired, I started to replay the events of the last few days. So many huge, important things had happened this weekend, between my son getting married and meeting Tory. Even leaving my diner in someone else’s hands for the first time had been a big deal.
It felt like everything was changing. While that was definitely unsettling, I had a reason to be excited, too. I had no idea where this thing with Tory was going to end up, but I was looking forward to finding out.
7
Salvatore
Over the next week, Armando and I got in the habit of video calling each other every day. I’d told myself I was going to keep this casual, but I had a hard time staying away from him. Plus, I worried about him and wanted to make sure he was taking care of himself.
His schedule was my main cause for concern. It turned out Sundays were his “early” night. The rest of the week, the diner was open until ten p.m., so he didn’t make it home until ten-thirty or even later. On top of that, he left the house by five-thirty seven days a week, to get the diner ready to open for breakfast.
To me, those hours were completely unreasonable. I didn’t understand how he hadn’t collapsed from sheer exhaustion or sleep deprivation. He tried to justify it by saying he’d been doing it for years. When I told him that didn’t make it okay, he’d shrugged it off by saying, “It’s what I’m used to.”
As hard as it was to watch him run himself ragged, I knew I couldn’t do much about it. All I could do was remind him to eat—which he often forgot, despite being around food all day—and encourage him to delegate more of his responsibilities to his staff, so he could cut back his hours.
“I definitely plan to delegate more,” he told me on Friday afternoon, as he sat at the desk in his office and organized a stack of receipts. “But I couldn’t do that this week. I took all that time off last weekend, and I’m planning to take tomorrow off, so I don’t want to pile too much on Javier’s shoulders.”
“But you said he enjoyed being in charge last weekend, and that he’s always asking for more responsibility,” I reminded him. “Do you think the real issue is that you have a hard time letting go of old habits?”
He grinned at his phone, which was propped up on the desk. “You sound like a therapist.”
“But do you think I could be right?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” He pulled out his giant desktop calculator—because of course he did his own bookkeeping instead of hiring someone—and said, “I need to finish up these receipts, before I take over for my cook while he’s on his dinner break.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven.”
“Are you sure you want to pick me up? I could just as easily meet you wherever you’ve made those secret plans you won’t tell me about.”
“The last thing you need on your day off is to drive all over Southern California. And I know you said you wanted to cook for me, but please, let me buy you dinner instead.”
He shook his head. “It’s the least I can do, after you paid for room service last weekend.”