Page 135 of Better Than Gelato
Jake’s smiles when he sees me and it sets my heart racing. The dimples are out in full force, and his eyes sparkle like stars. I catch my breath.
“Ciao, bella!” he says and gives me a kiss on each cheek.
“Ciao, bello,” I say.
We stand there a moment, not awkward exactly, but unsure.
“You look incredible,” he says.
“Thank you. You look well.”
Inside, a hostess leads us to a table for two in the corner. The restaurant is dimly lit and quiet. The chairs feel like real leather.
Jake wants to hear all about my trip. I tell him about my work and my dinner with Paolo.
“They’re expecting?” he says, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open. It’s an expression I remember.
“Yep. A little boy they’re calling Diego.”
He smiles sadly. “That’s wonderful news.”
Our food comes, and I have a sudden flashback to a hundred meals I’ve eaten with Jake.
“So, you’re working forConde Nast Traveler. Living your dream. I always knew you would.”
I smile. “Tell me about med school. This is your last year, right?”
We spend the next two hours eating and catching up. Everything about Jake is exactly how I remember, how I tried not to remember. The animated way he talks about patients and procedures makes me smile. He’s doing well. He’s happy.
We order tiramisu for dessert and coffee after that. He asks about my parents and how they’re enjoying retirement. I ask what Naomi’s up to. When the waiter walks by for the third time, Jake pays our bill.
“Thank you for a lovely dinner,” I say. “This was nice.”
“Yeah, it was.”
We stand on the sidewalk, traffic and pedestrians buzzing around us.
“Well…thank you,” I say again.
“Would you like to walk?” Jake asks.
I hesitate for a second then nod. We head away from downtown, through Battery Park and along the Hudson.
It’s the walking that brings everything back. This is our natural state. We don’t hold hands, but occasionally our arms brush and it sends sparks shooting through me. I’d somehow forgotten about this chemistry, the kind that makes my thoughts blur.
We talk a little, mostly just sharing each other’s company. Each step seems to erase the time apart.
“I want to apologize for how things ended between us,” Jake says.
I was really hoping we wouldn’t have this conversation.
“No need for apologies. It all worked out.”
“If not apologies, at least explanations.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Coming home was a hard transition for me.”
“I get it. The switch frombisteca milaneseto ramen noodles was a rough one for me.”
“I was failing my classes.”
