“Please,” I said, trying to convince him.
He inhaled a deep breath, shook his head, and then he held up a finger. “Lirio’s closed, but luckily, I know the owner.”
…
We didn’t speak the entire walk to the restaurant, and we tried our hardest not to look at one another. Every so often, I felt his eyes on me and I’d turn to face him. He’d glance away and I’d be left with a view of his profile, so achingly beautiful that I couldn’t help but stare for a moment. Halfway there, I couldn’t stand it any longer.
“I see you watching me,” he said.
“Look, I know we're still testing the waters here, and you’re doing me a big favor by agreeing to go with me, but…I ran all the way to your apartment in mismatched flip-flops and my feet are basically two giant blisters right now. Would you mind giving me a piggyback ride?”
He laughed and turned so I could hop onto his back. My feet thanked me the second I was off the ground.
“Better?" he asked.
I smiled. “Much.”
His grip tightened around my thighs and he carried me until we reached the restaurant.
The photo on the blog must have been recent because the windows of the restaurant were still taped up and the facade still lacked its finishing touches. The brick was painted black and the building was dark, but the streetlights illuminated a thin plastic banner hanging just above the door. Lirio was spelled across it in black scrolling letters.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, sliding my gaze to him.
He brushed off my compliment. “It’s not done yet.”
“Well, I love it already.”
His smile hit me full force when he turned to me. “Me too.”
“Did you taste the food earlier? When Antonio was here?”
He shook his head.
“Come on. Let’s heat it up and try it.”
“It won’t be nearly as good,” he said.
It was.
Of course Antonio would have plated the food with pretty details, but we managed just fine. The dishes were delicious, full of complex flavors that I had to sit and mull over as I chewed each bite. Dean and I fought each other for each morsel until the very end and even then, I still wanted more.
“Here,” he said, holding out his fork with the last bite of our dessert resting on top.
I smile and leaned forward, letting him feed me. The cheesecake tart with fresh blueberries was the perfect ending to the meal. The creamy texture rolled over my tongue and I let a soft moan escape my mouth.
“It’s exactly what I wanted,” I said, waving my hand over the empty plates and bowls. “This is the kind of meal I was expecting in Vegas.”
He nodded, watching me over the kitchen island.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier,” I said, broaching the subject I’d avoided throughout dinner.
He dropped his fork onto his empty plate and met my gaze. “A part of me knew you wouldn’t show up.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone had treated me the way I’d treated you, I wouldn’t have given them another chance either.”
“Is that what you wanted? A second chance?”
He wet his bottom lip and for a few seconds, I wasn’t sure he’d even answer.
“Dean?”
“The other day you said that no man is an island. Ever since I was young, I’ve been fiercely competitive. I guess I always thought of myself as a mountain climber. I wanted to be the fastest kid on the track, the smartest kid in the class, and the richest man in New York. I wanted to climb and climb and climb, but the top turned out to be an even colder type of isolation.”
"Are you saying you need a Sherpa?”
He laughed and bent forward over the island to kiss me. He took me by surprise and I could hardly kiss him back before he was pulling away.
“I need you,” he confirmed. “God help me.”
I smiled, flushed from ear to ear with a blush I didn’t bother trying to hide.
“When I pushed you out of my house that night, I told you that you’d find a better man than me, and well, I’ve decided that I’m going to be that man. In the last month, I’ve worked to become the type of man you deserve.”
“Oh really?” I asked, trying to keep my cool. Inside, I was pushing down the urge to shove the dishes off the island and throw myself at him.
“I sold off four of my restaurants, I hired three new managers to help with the workload, and I promoted Zoe so that she can help with daily operations. I won’t ever fully retire, but I’m not going to be a workaholic any more.”
“What about Lirio? You didn’t sell it, right?”
I’d kill him if he had.
He shook his head. “I still own Lirio. It’ll always be our restaurant.”
I smiled and leaned in, whispering against his lips just before I kissed him.
“The first of many.”
Epilogue
Dean
I reclined in the back seat of the town car and let the city lights ease my growing headache. My flight from Iowa had landed an hour ahead of schedule, but the traffic from the airport to Lirio was about to drive me insane.
The driver’s voice broke me out of my haze. “How was your trip, sir?”
I turned toward the front seat and met his eye in the rearview mirror. “The usual.”
My parents had badgered me the same as they always had, but this time Lily had been the topic of discussion.
“When are we going to get a grandchild? We’re only getting older.”
“Are you sure you want to stay in New York City? Is that really where you want to raise your family?”
“Aren’t you ready to make an honest woman out of her?”
I swore they were still living in the 1800s, but I’d tried my best to appease them. I’d had a ring burning a hole in the pocket of my pants for the last two months. I’d picked out a ring that was big, but tasteful. Julian had set the bar high a few months earlier—the bastard—but I’d been happy to spoil Lily. She’d flip when she saw it. If she saw it.
Our lives had been so busy the last few months. Opening Lirio had taken a lot of work and the restaurant still wasn’t running smoothly. Most nights, Lily and I were both working like dogs.
“Here you are sir. Would you like me to wait?”
I shook my head and offered him a tip. The night was still young and I knew Lily and I would be at the restaurant for quite a while.
“Go on ahead and drop my luggage at the house. We’ll catch a cab later.”
“Sounds good, sir.”
Lirio was packed when I walked in, busier than usual for a Wednesday night. The New York Times had featured our restaurant the week before and we were already starting to see the effects of the article.
“Hi Mr. Harper,” the hostess said, nodding at me as I walked in and hung my jacket on the coat rack near the door.
“Hey Sarah. What’s it looking like tonight?”
“We have over a hundred reservations and I haven’t tallied the walk-ins yet. There are two parties taking place in the back rooms at the moment.”
I nodded. “Good. Where’s Lily?”
She smiled and angled her head toward the center bar.
“Again?”
“Yeah, Todd called in sick.”
That was fourth time he’d called in sick in two weeks, and I knew for a fact the kid was calling in so he could make it to last minute auditions.
“All right, thanks,” I told her, moving past the hostess stand so I could find Lily.
We’d designed Lirio to be much smaller than Provisions. We’d wanted the experience to feel intimate. The tables were covered with white tablecloths with fresh flowers and tea candles. The lighting overhead was soft and meant to be forgotten. Beautiful abstract paintings hung sparingly on the walls, but the real art was the food. Antonio had created dishes for us that were jam-packed with color and flavor.