"There is. It looks like it's straight out of a movie with checkered tablecloths and placemats with pictures of the map of Italy on them, but the people who own it know how to make good pizza."
This felt like a real date! Excited, I said, "I can be ready in minutes, if you can."
Before he answered, I was off like a shot to grab my bag and make sure I looked presentable. A few minutes later I returned to find him standing there in his suit and tie looking particularly unready for slices at a little pizza place. Likely, dressed like that, he'd stick out as badly as he did at The Last Drop. Stepping toward him, I ran my finger down his tie and smiled up at him. "Maybe you could loosen this tie and look like it's not your first time eating pizza."
Tristan arched one dark eyebrow. "Are you insinuating that I look uptight?"
"You've gone to this place before, right? I'm going to guess that nobody spoke a word to you the whole time you were there."
I saw by the slight downturn of his mouth that I was right. They'd probably thought he was some FBI agent coming to town to track down some serial killer. He had that icy, government official vibe sometimes.
As I slid the tie from around his collar, I explained, "They probably got the wrong idea about you. Small town pizza places don't likely get too many customers who look like you do."
"You make it seem like I'm some sultan. It's a suit and tie, Nina."
I stepped back and looked him up and down. "It's a suit that costs more than many people make in a month and a tie that likely cost more than most teenagers pay for a pair of sneakers, Tristan. Ordinary people don't wear that to get a slice of pizza."
He took the tie out of my hands and brought my fingers to his lips for a kiss. Settling his gaze on me, he said quietly, "Neither of us are ordinary, no matter how much you want to be."
His stubborn belief that I was anything but the regular person I'd always been made me smile. "Well, we don't have to flaunt our extraordinariness all the time. Sometimes it's just nice to appear like ordinary people, so off with the tie and jacket."
Tristan narrowed his eyes slightly for a moment, surprised by my order, but the jacket followed the tie and he was ready to go. "Better?"
"The top button can be undone too, if you really want to look relaxed," I teased.
He opened his collar and motioned toward the door. "I hope the car is going to be okay," he said in a mocking tone. "Or do we have to walk or buy some used car?"
As I headed for the front door, I said, "Now you're not taking this seriously at all, are you?"
"On the contrary. I'm up for buying another car. Or maybe a horse and buggy would help with toning down the...what did you call it?"
I turned around at the car and laughed. "Extraordinariness. It's a word."
"It's a mouthful," he joked and lifted my chin to kiss me. "Now get in the car. Pizza's waiting."
He hadn't exaggerated in his description of Tony's Pizza Heaven. Red and white checkered tablecloths covered the old square Formica tables and at each place setting were paper placemats with red, white, and green maps of Italy and cartoon drawings of major tourist attractions, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa and the Coliseum, on them. The wooden chairs were old and hard, but the place was warm and comfortable.
I skimmed over the laminated menu while Tristan seemed to study it, but when the waitress came over to take our order he was quick to tell her we wanted a large pizza and a pitcher of soda. I sat staring at him thinking how surreal this scene was.
He noticed my confused expression. "Something wrong?"
I wasn't sure if something was wrong. Maybe it was how comfortable he seemed at a place I'd been so sure he wouldn't fit in. Shaking my head, I answered, "No. You seem quite at home here."
"Surprised? You think you know me, but you don't know everything about me, Nina."
"I guess I don't. That's okay. You don't know everything about me either."
Smiling, he remained quiet, making me feel like he knew more than I suspected. The silence between us made me feel uneasy, and I shifted in my chair and looked past him at the pictures on the far wall. Black and white photographs of Italian architecture were scattered along the walls of the restaurant and set me at ease. Very much like art, they were beautiful to look at, even in their cheap faux wood frames.