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“You must be so proud of Elysa. The work she does with the charity, but also”—he paused, turning to me with a glint of appreciation—“the Michelin Gourmand Award for Bistro Marmorata. Congratulations, Elysa. You and Maura must be very proud.”
I flushed. Most people in Dante’s circle had no idea what I did—because no one had ever bothered to ask.
Luca had.
And when I told him, he’d come by the bistro when he was on break from university. He’d even brought friends another time, supporting my work in a way Danteneverhad.
"Thank you." I nervously tucked a loose strand ofhair behind my ear. "Maura and I are thrilled. It’s been a lot of work, but it’s so worth it."
I didn’t dare to look at Dante. I couldn’t stand to see a smirk on his face or have him make some offhand remark about how I was just a server.
Luca continued like he couldn’t notice the tension that was simmering between Dante and me. “And the wine program? I saw that Wine Spectator included Bistro Marmorata on their list of restaurants to watch.”
I blinked, caught off guard that Luca knew. It had been a special day when we got the news. Maura and I had opened some excellent vintages to celebrate with the team.
“Wine Spectator?” Dante mused with an arched eyebrow like he couldn’t believe it and was certain Luca was bullshitting him. “Really?”
“Yes.” Luca narrowed his eyes. “You must know your wife has a talent when it comes to wine.”
Now, I did look at Dante. His face was grim, and he showed no emotion—well, except maybe a slight irritation. I shook my head imperceptibly, the fire inside me flickering out.
“She’s really great,” Luca continued, and I wish he’d stop it. He was baiting Dante. He’d asked me once if Dante had ever been to the bistro, and I’d joked that Dante thought I was merely a server. He’d been incensed and asked me why I hadn’t explained how things were to Dante, and I’d said something about how Dante was too busy to care and moved onto other topics. He obviously remembered me saying that.
“The editor was raving about how Elysa chooses natural wines, some fermented in amphoras like in the olden days, and presents rare varietals from small vineyards.” Luca’s jaw was clenched as he spoke to Dante, obviously annoyed with his ignorance when it came to my life. “In fact, Elysa picked the wine for tonight’s dinner, and it was amazing. Don’t you think so, Dante?”
Before Dante could say anything, I squeaked words out because I was panicked. “It’s been such a labor of love building the wine program,” I remarked with false cheer. Any minute now, I was going to bring out the pompoms and chant: “Give me an S, give me a T, give me an O, and for the love of everything holy, Luca,stop!”
"Well, you’ve certainly carved out a niche." Luca tucked his hands into his pockets, facing off against Dante. For a moment, it felt like we were in the O.K. Corral, and any second now…bang, bang.
I laughed nervously. “Dante, we should go. You said you wanted me to?—”
“Yes, we should go,” Dante cut me off and offered his arm to me.
Relieved, I was about to put my hand on his forearm when Luca kissed my cheek. “Wonderful seeing you,bella mia. Take care of yourself, and I’ll come by the bistro soon.”
I felt Dante stiffen, and I chuckled apprehensively. “Yes, Yes. Come. Anytime. The bistro is…you should come.”
Damn it!I needed to shut up before I spouted any more nonsense.
“Luca, nice to see you.” Dante’s tone clearly implied that he felt no such thing.
“Lovelyto see you again, Elysa…andyou, Dante.” Luca wasn’t backing down. Oh, no, he was looking for a brawl.
Dante all but dragged me out of the terrace into the ballroom. We were halfway through when Lucia came up to us.
“Dante, where have you been? I just got an email from the lawyers in Chicago and and?—”
“Lucia, I’m afraid that Elysa isn’t feeling well, and we have to leave,” he interrupted her in English while Lucia had spoken to him in Italian.
This wasn’t how he usually did things.
Wait! What?I wasn’t feeling well!
“Ah…I hope everything is alright.” She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe anything was wrong with me.
Girlfriend, I have no words, I thought, but then it appeared that I did. Petty? You bet!
“I have a headache,” I lied unconvincingly and then, for effect, put my free hand to my temple.