Page 90 of Hard To Love

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Good evening, Senor and Senorita!” The waiter smiled when he approached our table with two glasses of wine. Brad had surprised me with reservations at Trattoria del Arte in midtown Manhattan, a favorite of mine. The place had uniquely old-world Italian feel and was loaded with charm.

The last time I was here was when we celebrated our two-year anniversary. Whenever there would be a special occasion, this was our go-to place. I had to hand it to him; he knew exactly what he was doing when he brought me here. The whole atmosphere had me feeling a little off my game.

Brad slid my glass towards me then raised his in the air. “Happy Birthday, Emily!” His eyes crinkled when he smiled. “And here’s to many more.”

I took advantage of my wine and paused while looking around the restaurant to gather my thoughts. I wasn’t sure what to say, or know where to even begin.

“Thanks, you for this. For everything.” I said then rested my hands on the table and fiddled with my wine glass.

He set his glass down on the table and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve got to say, it feels good being here with you. This place holds a lot of special memories for us. I couldn’t imagine ever bringing another woman here. Do you remember our first Valentine’s Day?”

My heart grew heavy from the memory. “You mean when you almost stood me up?”

I remembered the terrible feeling I had thinking that he wasn’t going to show up. How embarrassing would it be to get stiffed on Valentine’s Day!

He shook his head laughing as he brought his glass to his lips. “You were so pissed at me. I had this whole romantic evening planned, and I never called to let you know I was running late after work.”

“You mean the night when you shot your suspect in the balls?” I said, trying to stifle my laugh.

“Exactly! Poor bastard loses his left nut on the day for lovers. Kind of ironic,” he grinned. “You would be amazed by how much paperwork there is when you shoot a suspect. I was already an hour late when I left the station and I realized I hadn’t even bought you a card or flowers.”

“Yeah, you were quite the romantic. I remember you ran into the church across the street and signed a mass card and grabbed some roses from a funeral earlier in the day, and gave them to me.”

We both busted out laughing at the memory. It was a lot funnier now than it had been back then.

Brad rested his elbows on the table with his lips turned up into a charming grin.

“Hey, it was the thought that counts.” He reminded me, his eyes dancing in amusement.

“Oh, I remember. I was so pissed at you. If I remember correctly I had just cracked open wine bottle number two.” An adorable half smile appeared on his face, as he seemed to find humor in my reaction. I found myself smiling back.

He set his wine on the table and shook his head. “And I also remember it took me almost a month of working overtime to pay off the ‘Stick it to Brad’ bill for that night. You were so funny. It was the first time I’d ever seen you so pissed.”

He was right. I was so annoyed that I decided I would make him pay for his tardiness. If it was expensive, I ordered it!

“As I recall, you made out pretty good that night, too.” My hand flew to my mouth as I immediately regretted the words that I’d said.

How was it that being here with him could fill me with such warmth, yet made me hate him at the same time for what he had done?

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, clearly debating what he wanted to say next. He tossed his hand through his hair and smiled. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you, last time we spoke.”

“Brad, I don’t even know what to say other than I understand why you would be upset.” I looked away feeling my throat dry up.

“You never did tell me why the two of you broke up.”

I chewed nervously on my bottom lip and hoped that the red that colored my cheeks didn’t give me away. “He broke up with me. I guess he didn’t see a future with me, after all.”

My hands continued to fumble with my wine glass. I was desperate to keep myself busy so he couldn’t look at my face. Because I was sure if he did, he would be able to see right through the lies.

His brown eyes pierced right through me. “Do you guys still talk?”

I shrugged my shoulders and averted my eyes. “A little bit.”

His eyes remained locked on mine, but he didn’t say a word. After what appeared to be a huge stretch of silence, he finally spoke.

“Because, he didn’t look very happy when I saw him leaving your apartment building tonight.”

---