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“There should be some wine in the buffet.” She sets the plates in front of two chairs and opens the door to the furniture near the dining table. Bottles of wine, vodka, and rum are inside.
“Wow. I didn’t know that was in here.”
“White or red?” Nova holds up a bottle of each. “You’re supposed to drink red with pasta, but I don’t believe in following the rules.”
Again, I chuckle. “I don’t either. But I’m not picky, so I’ll let you choose.”
“Good, because I’m not a fan of red.” She puts the red wine away and takes the white wine to the table.
“Need a bottle opener?” I feel oddly at ease, which is strange since I haven’t had or wanted company for some time now.
“It’s in the drawer to the left of the stove.” She points to it and sits.
I get the opener and two wine glasses. I only know where they are because the cabinet doors are glass. At the table, I open the bottle of wine. The label says Prosecco.
Nova watches me. “If you’d prefer another…” She rises from the chair.
“It’s fine.” I would have had a beer with my spaghetti, but wine will do, and I don’t mind Prosecco, even if it’s on the sweeter side.
I fill our glasses and sit at the head of the table beside her. I’m starving, but I don’t want to dig in before we each have our food. I reach for the tray since my arms are longer. “Which would you like?”
She stands and serves herself the cauliflower pasta and garlic wine sauce.
I knew she’d pick that.
“What about you?” Her beautiful eyes narrow. “You look like a spaghetti, marinara, and meatball kind of guy.”
Good guess. “You’d be correct.”
She smiles, and I swear the room brightens. I could stare at her face all day, it’s that interesting and unique.
Nova fills my plate and sits back down. We both take our cloth napkins and drape them over our laps.
She giggles but doesn’t say anything, just eats her pasta.
I follow her lead and moan at the delicious taste. “This is incredible.”
She nods and sucks a noodle through her lips.
With a mouth like hers, it’s erotic as hell. I rinse my food down with some wine. “This surprisingly pairs well with the spaghetti.”
“Prosecco pairs well with anything.” She takes another sip. “In my opinion,” she adds.
I smile and continue to eat.
Silence falls between us.
Right when it starts to grow awkward, Nova says, “I feel like one of us should say something.”
To the point. I can get on board with that. It’s refreshing, considering all I’ve dealt with over the last year. People who know my story tend to tiptoe around me. “How have you been?” I ask the first thing to come to mind, and wish I could take it back the moment she frowns.
“Not good.” She stares at her pasta. “I’m sure you’ve seen the media posts about me. They’re everywhere.”
I shrug, like I haven’t Googled her. “I don’t really follow social media.” True, unless it involves the Gianni or Morello family, or Sera, who I intend to stop cyberstalking.
She studies me with those magnetic eyes. “I believe you.”
Another refreshing response. I sip more wine.