I don’t miss the excitement in his voice. I know Lou wants to be more intimate. I just haven’t felt it with him.
“Thank you, that’s so sweet of you, but I’m staying with Dario for now.”
“The best friend?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a Di Lorenzo, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
I don’t know why my hackles go up. It’s the way he asks the question. It’s not the first time he has asked questions about Dario. However, this time rubs me some way. I don’t like it.
“They’re of Italian descent, right? From the old country.”
“Di Lorenzo. That should tell you all you need to know.”
Lou clears his throat. “Well, does he mind me coming there? I want to spend some time with you.”
“Actually, this is his space, I would never invite someone here.”
It’s the truth even if Dario didn’t say to keep Lou out of his home. Besides, Dario may not like to talk about his family, but I’ve grown up around him enough to know they have secrets, and I wouldn’t want to invite someone into his life, not fully understanding them.
This trip to Italy is about to change something for Dario. I’ve feared that his family wants him to take over Amore Domestico, the family’s first restaurant in Italy. I mean, it is his legacy. However, that would leave me here in New York without my best friend and with a restaurant to run all on my own.
I’ve been feeling like I’m about to lose him. As hard as I’ve tried to ignore it, it’s been like an eerie feeling circling my thoughts.
I snort to myself. If I’m honest, Dario has become more than a best friend since we’ve been working together. We breathe each other’s next move. The way we work in the kitchen is magic. I’m going to miss him while he’s gone.
“Carleen?” Lou calls my attention back to the phone. I run my hand into the front of my hair, knowing I should end this conversation now.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“If I can’t come see you tonight. I want you to come spend a weekend with me and my family. I want them to get to meet you.”
“Oh, Lou. I’m sorry. I’m not ready for something like that. Actually, I was thinking we should take a break. I think we want different things, and I don’t want to string you along.”
He’s silent for a moment. Suddenly, I hear him curse away from the phone. “Listen, maybe I’m moving too fast, but I don’t think that means we should end things. How about we do take a break. I’ll give you a month or two and then we can try things again.”
“I don’t know, Lou.”
“Just think about it. Text me anytime you want to talk. I’ll be here whenever you want, but I’ll give you some space.”
“Okay,” I say because at this point, I just want off this call.
“You have a good night.”
“You too.”
I hang up, finish jutting down the recipe and pick up my other journal to write how this day has left me feeling. An hour later, I pass out with a ton of thoughts on my mind.
Chapter 4
Work Marriage
Carleen
“Amazing, right?” Dario croons as I pull into my mouth the slice of cheese he has held up to my lips.
“Oh my God. It’s so fresh,” I reply. “That hint of spice is everything.”
“Here, mangiare,” he says as he shaves some of the cheese into a bowl of crab ravioli and marinara sauce. “I went old school. This is my great-great-grandfather’s gravy with a little Dario flair.”
I smile as he calls the sauce gravy. I don’t think he realizes it, but Dario’s Italian American culture slips through so often, always carrying that Jersey flair. It’s endearing.
I open my mouth and take in the bite he offers. It’s fucking orgasmic. This is so natural for him. Dario’s love for food comes through in his cooking.
“Wow,” I say after I finish chewing.
“You like? I used the wine from the Di Lorenzo vineyards. Its earthy notes are perfect. I can’t wait to make this for Nonno.”
My shoulders sag a little from the reminder that he’s leaving. I don’t know what I’ll do if he has to stay in Italy to run the restaurant there. Dario has been there for me for so much in my life.
I’ve always imagined him as my children’s godfather. There may be no chance of him ever being the father of my children and I’m learning to be okay with him never knowing how in love with him I am, but I still want him in my children’s lives.
“Do you know how long you will be?” I ask the question I’ve been avoiding.
A sad look comes to his face. “I’m not sure. You’re welcome to stay at my place as long as you need to though.”
Just not welcome to come along. I nod and turn away to busy myself with wiping the spotless counter.