Fate Interrupted

22. In Bocca Al Lupo

Ren

JANUARY 30, 2010

Almost two months have passed since my birthday. I haven't seen Gio at work, and I found a new place to dance. I haven't tried to look for him. I haven't phoned or texted or searched his name. I'm pretty darn proud of myself. But to say I've completely erased him from my mind would be a lie.

At a bare minimum, he still crosses my mind at least twice a day. I'll catch myself dressing up with him in mind for work on the off chance I run into him, though I still never have, and I'm embarrassed to admit I almost always think about him as I fall asleep. I dream of finding him, knocking on his door, and talking to him about everything that happened—feeling him again in my arms, his soft kiss on my lips.

But that's my hopeless heart whispering those wishes, still trying to cause trouble. My conscious mind squashes those thoughts as quickly as possible. We're moving on. 

In fact, I'm finally going on a date again with the least offensive guy who has been interested in me since moving here (since I'm not about to try internet dating again anytime soon.) You guessed it—it's Bryce.

After that night at the club, I held him off for a long time, but he's been friendly and patient, if not a touch persistent, in an eye-rolling yet heart-melting, adorable way. And believe me, when I say—I think I've finally had enough Saturday nights alone these last two months.

Okay, okay, AND it's Gio's birthday on Sunday. So I'm going to be trying really hard not to text him 'Happy Birthday.' My plan is a date with Bryce on Saturday will take my mind off accidentally drunk texting him—which I just might do if I'm drinking wine and watching some sort of romantic movie by myself at home.

Bryce is picking me up in ten minutes, and I'm almost ready. We are going to In Bocca Al Lupo, the hot new restaurant in town. It's a late dinner—8:00 pm, but it's the only time we could get. As I stand in front of my closet, I smile to myself as I realize this is the perfect opportunity to wear one of my favorite dresses from New York, which is now just collecting dust in the back of my closet.

I pull out my dark green one-shoulder dress that is somehow both romantic and edgy and match it with sexy 4" stiletto ankle boots. I had actually spent real time on my hair tonight and curled it into a relaxed wave and a dramatic side part. I check myself out in my closet mirror.

Damn, I look good—if I don't say so myself.

As we enter the restaurant, I'm definitely impressed. It's a historic building in Old Town with exposed brick walls and wood ceiling joists. The lighting is moody with a dim amber glow, but the lights themselves are beautiful, glass balls hung at different heights like floating orbs. I think it's the most dramatic interior design I've seen since New York. I briefly wonder what the bathrooms look like, as the best-designed restaurants in New York also have the coolest-looking bathrooms.

We are led to a section in the middle with curved C-shaped dark brown leather booths. I slide in on one side, and Bryce slides in on the other. He looks perfect tonight in a crisp, light-colored shirt and black blazer. His hair is styled, and his blue eyes twinkle at me over the table as I pick up my menu. It's pretty traditional Italian food, but I've heard how fresh and delicious it is, and my mouth starts to water as I look over the entrees.

"You want to share some Bruschetta?" His dimples pop, fetching out my smile.

"Yeah, that sounds great."

We discuss what we're having and decide to split a bottle of wine. The waiter comes over, and I let Bryce order the appetizer and wine. While he's asking questions to the waiter, my eyes wander the space again, it has a great vibe. I can see why it's so popular.