Page 42 of Banter & Blushes

Okay, I needed to escape. This was... not working.

I took a deep breath.Rebecca and I would be laughing together by now.

“No, I don’t, uh, date customers,” I stammered. “But I do enjoy making good food. And, uh... that’s why I’m here. You know, cooking. Since I’m the chef.”

Why am I saying this? What am I even doing? I need to take heed to all the red flags slapping me in the face and get away from this woman.

She tilted her head, giving me a confused,slightlyannoyed look, as if I were the one playing hard to get. “Cooking, huh? That’s... cute.”

I didn’t know why that annoyed me. But it did.Everythingshe said was getting under my skin. And not in the way I was supposed to be feeling.

Suddenly, I was justdone. I was so completely obsessed with Rebecca, it was laughable I even had a thought about entertaining… whatever this was. I had to get away from this woman before I accidentally said something completely stupid, like, “You’re cute, but you’re not Rebecca, and that’s all I can think about.”

“Okay, well... I’ll grab you the menu, then,” I said quickly, taking a step back.

“Oh, I’ve already decided,” she said, not giving up just yet. “Maybe you can tell me where I can place an order for a guy like you? You know,a manwho knows how to make a woman feel special.”

That was it. The final straw. I couldn’t even look at her anymore without inwardly wincing, regretting that this entire conversation was happening in the first place. All I could think about was Rebecca, and the way she made me feel, and the way she had so kindlyrejectedme playfully only to give in to my horrendous lasagna tacos.

I was not going to do this. I was not going to play along.

“Uh, right, okay,” I said, my voice a little too clipped. “I’m going to just... get you that menu.”

I turned to walk away but managed to knock over a stack of napkins in the process. “Great,” I muttered, picking up the napkins in a hurry.

“Are yousureyou don’t want to tell me about your love life first? Seems I make you a little nervous,” she called after me, her voice a little too sweet now.

“Love life? No, no,” I said, with a little too much enthusiasm. “I’m good. Really good. No love life. Just... lasagna. Right now. Justlasagna.”

I gave one final, strained smile and practically sprinted into the back of the kitchen, where I promptly slammed the door behind me.

I leaned against it, breathing heavily.

What the heck was wrong with me?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I managed tofail miserablyat trying to move on.

I was so not ready for this.

THE HEART OF THE MATTER

LUCA

Icouldn’t keep running from it. That much was clear.

So, I did the only thing that made sense to me in that moment—I went to my parents.

It’s funny how you can get so tangled up in your own head that you forget about the wisdom of the people who’ve loved you your whole life. In all my dramatic attempts to move on from Rebecca, I had somehow convinced myself that I could fix it on my own. But, man, that just wasn’t working.

I was feeling more confused and lost than I had in a long time. I needed clarity. I needed grounding. So, instead of talking to Joe, I drove to my parents' house.

They weren’t exactly what you’d call “modern” parents. They still lived in the same little cottage they’d built when they first moved to the town. It had the same old creaky front door and smelled faintly of garlic and tomatoes from my mom’s kitchen. The place was cozy and comforting—everything I needed at that moment.

When I walked in, my mom was at the stove, stirring a pot of what looked like her famous Sunday sauce. My dad was lounging on the couch, his feet propped up as usual, reading the local newspaper. They were both in their late fifties now, but they still carried that youthful spark that made them seem much younger than their years. They’d been together for more than thirty years, andthey still managed to make each other laugh every day, a feat that seemed impossible given the amount of time they’d been together.

“Mi Luca!” My mom's face lit up when she saw me. “What’s going on? You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“Hey, Mama,” I muttered, walking over to her. “I just... I need to talk to you guys. Can I sit down for a minute?”

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