Page 71 of Unholy Union
The dining room is small, fitting twelve or thirteen tables at most. Sleek, dark wood lines the walls, interrupted only by thin panels of frosted glass and splashes of crimson lacquer.
There’s no music, only the low murmur of conversation and the rhythmic chop of the knives from the open kitchen.
The lighting is warm and golden, adding to the intimate atmosphere of the small, upscale establishment.
I watch as Sabrina’s eyes sweep across the space and land on the window view. Lincoln Center is visible in the near-distance, lit up like a cathedral in the night. Curiosity flickers in her eyes for a brief second, and I can guess exactly what she’s thinking before she diverts her gaze to the menu.
I almost grin to myself. She still doesn’t know.
“So what’s good here?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t know,” she answers. “I’ve never been.”
“What do you usually order at sushi restaurants?”
“Wait… is this…” she trails off, brows raised. Then she tries again in a more amused tone. “You’re not telling me you’ve never had sushi before?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Then why are we here? Why did you bring me here?”
I give a haphazard shrug, focusing on the menu. “Isn’t it your favorite? I saw some post of yours on Instagram. You and Lucchesi stuffing your faces with a whole table of sushi rolls.”
Her jaw drops open, though she looks tempted to laugh. “It wasn’t a table’s worth! There was, like, six or seven rolls… and between two people that’s not that much!”
“Alright, principessa, I believe you.”
“And we hadn’t eaten all day!”
“No need to explain.”
“Andwhatwere you doing looking at my Instagram?” she snaps, suddenly indignant. Her cheeks flame a light, rosy red that makes me grin. “My profile is private!”
“So you think. There are ways to bypass that.”
I let her imagination run wild as I study another page of the menu and she glares daggers at me from across the table. When seconds go by and she’s still stewing on it, I chuckle and take mercy.
“Alright, cards on the table. I spied once when your phone was unlocked. Your Instagram was up and I looked at your profile. Is that a crime?”
“Yes!” she says, sniffing. “But obviouslyyou,of all people, wouldn’t care!”
“You had fallen asleep. I was trying to put your phone on the table before it slid out your hand and fell on the floor. You should be thanking me. I took care of you that night.”
For a quick second her eyes narrow as she realizes the night I’m speaking of, then she returns her attention to the menu as if deciding she’s above it.
“I hope you like raw fish, Cato. I hardly ate today and I’mstarving.”
“What’s that got to do with me? I’m thinking their Kobe steak sounds good.”
“You have to try some sushi or sashimi! You can have steak anywhere.”
Our server returns as Sabrina is making her point, ready to take our order. My wife puts on a bright smile and immediately demonstrates just how well-versed she is in ordering all kinds of sushi and sashimi I’ve never heard of.
I’m not sure what we’re having as the server smiles and nods and then walks off. We’ve been left with glossy black chopsticks and chilled sake.
“Rainbow roll?” I ask. “What was in that one?”
“You’ll find out when you find out. Sake?” Sabrina smirks as she sips from her glass, looking every bit the troublemaker she can be.
